{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15249/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15249","id":"gutenberg_15249","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15249","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Politics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Sociology","Christianity -- England -- 20th century"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, and the\nPG Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOUTSPOKEN ESSAYS\n\nBY\n\nWILLIAM RALPH INGE, C.V.O., D.D.\n\nDEAN OF ST. PAUL'S\n\nFIFTH IMPRESSION\n\nLONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON\nFOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK\nBOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS\n\n1920\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAll the Essays in this volume, except the first, have appeared in the\n_Edinburgh Review_, the _Quarterly Review_, or the _Hibbert Journal_. I\nhave to thank the Publishers and Editors of those Reviews for their\ncourtesy in permitting me to reprint them. The articles on _The\nBirth-Rate, The Future of the English Race, Bishop Gore and the Church\nof England_, and _Cardinal Newman_ are from the _Edinburgh Review_;\nthose on _Patriotism, Catholic Modernism, St. Paul_, and _The Indictment\nagainst Christianity_ are from the _Quarterly Review_; those on\n_Institutionalism and Mysticism_ and _Survival and Immortality_ from the\n_Hibbert Journal_. I have not attempted to remove all traces of\noverlapping, which I hope may be pardoned in essays written\nindependently of each other; but a few repetitions have been excised.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                  PAGE\n\n   I. OUR PRESENT DISCONTENTS                        1\n\n  II. PATRIOTISM                                    35\n\n III. THE BIRTH-RATE                                59\n\n  IV. THE FUTURE OF THE ENGLISH RACE                82\n\n   V. BISHOP GORE AND THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND        106\n\n  VI. ROMAN CATHOLIC MODERNISM                     137\n\n VII. CARDINAL NEWMAN                              172\n\nVIII. ST. PAUL                                     205\n\n  IX. INSTITUTIONALISM AND MYSTICISM               230\n\n   X. THE INDICTMENT AGAINST CHRISTIANITY          243\n\n  XI. SURVIVAL AND IMMORTALITY                     266\n\n\n\n\nPhotera theleist soi malthaka pseydhe lhego, he sklher' alethhe;\nphrhaze, she gar he krhisist.\n\n_Euripides_.\n\n\nThe case of historical writers is hard; for if they tell the truth\nthey provoke man, and if they write what is false they offend\nGod.--_Matthew Paris_.\n\nQuattuor sunt maxime comprehendendae veritatis offendicula; videlicet,\nfragilis et indignae auctoritatis exemplum, consuetudinis diuturnitas,\nvulgi sensus imperiti, et propriae ignorantiae occultatio cum\nostentatione sapientiae superioris.--_Roger Bacon_.\n\n    Iudicio perpende; et si tibi vera videntur,\n    Dede manus; aut si falsum est, accingere contra.\n\n_Lucretius_.\n\n\nEventu rerum stolidi didicere magistro.\n\n_Claudian_.\n\n\n'All' he toi men tahyta thehon en gohynasi kehitai.\n\n_Homer_.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nOUR PRESENT DISCONTENTS\n\n(AUGUST, 1919)\n\n\nThe Essays in this volume were written at various times before and\nduring the Great War. In reading them through for republication, I have\nto ask myself whether my opinions on social science and on the state of\nreligion, the two subjects which are mainly dealt with in this\ncollection, have been modified by the greatest calamity which has ever\nbefallen the civilised world, or by the issue of the struggle. I find\nvery little that I should now wish to alter. The war has caused events\nto move faster, but in the same direction as before. The social\nrevolution has been hurried on; the inevitable counter-revolution has\nequally been brought nearer. For if there is one safe generalisation in\nhuman affairs, it is that revolutions always destroy themselves. How\noften have fanatics proclaimed 'the year one'! But no revolutionary era\nhas yet reached 'year twenty-five.' As regards the national character,\nthere is no sign, I fear, that much wisdom has been learnt. We are more\nwasteful and reckless than ever. The doctrinaire democrat still vapours\nabout democracy, though representative government has obviously lost\nboth its power and its prestige. The labour party still hugs its\ncomprehensive assortment of economic heresies. Organised religion\nremains as impotent as it was before the war. But one fact has emerged\nwith startling clearness. Human nature has not been changed by\ncivilisation. It has neither been levelled up nor levelled down to an\naverage mediocrity. Beneath the dingy uniformity of international\nfashions in dress, man remains what he has always been--a splendid\nfighting animal, a self-sacrificing hero, and a bloodthirsty savage.\nHuman nature is at once sublime and horrible, holy and satanic. Apart\nfrom the accumulation of knowledge and experience, which are external\nand precarious acquisitions, there is no proof that we have changed much\nsince the first stone age.\n\nThe war itself, as we shall soon be compelled to recognise, had its\nroots deep in the political and social structure of Europe. The growth\nof wealth and population, and the law of diminishing returns, led to a\nscramble for unappropriated lands producing the raw materials of\nindustry. It was, in a sense, a war of capital; but capitalism is no\naccretion upon the body politic; it is the creator of the modern world\nand an essential part of a living organism. The Germans unquestionably\nmade a deep-laid plot to capture all markets and cripple or ruin all\ncompetitors. Their aims and methods were very like those of the Standard\nOil Trust on a still larger scale. The other nations had not followed\nthe logic of competition in the same ruthless manner; there were several\nthings which they were not willing to do. But war to the knife cannot be\nconfined to one of the combatants; the alternative, _Weltmacht oder\nNiedergang_, was thrust by Germany upon the Allies when she chose that\nmotto for herself. If the modern man were as much dominated by economic\nmotives as is sometimes supposed, the suicidal results of such a\nconflict would have been apparent to all; but the poetry and idealism of\nhuman nature, no longer centred, as formerly, in religion, had gathered\nround a romantic patriotism, for which the belligerents were willing to\nsacrifice their all without counting the cost. Like other idealisms,\npatriotism varies from a noble devotion to a moral lunacy.\n\nBut there was another cause which led to the war. Germany was a curious\ncombination of seventeenth century theory and very modern practice. An\nEmperor ruling by divine right was the head of the most scientific state\nthat the world has seen. In many ways Germany, with an intelligent,\neconomical, and uncorrupt Government, was a model to the rest of the\nworld. But the whole structure was menaced by that form of\nindividualistic materialism which calls itself social democracy, and\nwhich in practice is at once the copy of organic materialism and the\nreaction against it. The motives for drilling a whole nation in the\npursuit of purely national and purely materialistic aims are not strong\nenough to prevent disintegration. The German _Kriegsstaat_ was falling\nto pieces through internal fissures. A successful war might give the\nempire a new lease of life; otherwise, the rising tide of revolution was\ncertain to sweep it away. As Sir Charles Walston has shown, it was for\nsome years doubtful whether the democratic movement would obtain control\nbefore the bureaucracy and army chiefs succeeded in precipitating a war.\nThere was a kind of race between the two forces. This was the situation\nwhich Lord Haldane found still existing in his famous visit to Germany.\nIn the event, the conservative powers were able to strike and to rush\npublic opinion. Perhaps the bureaucracy was carried along by its own\nmomentum. Two or three years before the war a German publicist, replying\nto an eminent Englishman, who asked him who really directed the policy\nof Germany, answered: 'It is a difficult question. Nominally, of course,\nthe Emperor is responsible; but he is a man of moods, not a strong man.\nIn reality, the machine runs itself. Whither it is carrying us we none\nof us know; I fear towards some great disaster.' This seems to be the\ntruth of the matter. No doubt, a romantic imperialism, with dreams of\nrestoring the empire of Charlemagne, was a factor in the criminal\nenterprise. No doubt the natural ambitions of officers, and the greed of\ncontractors and speculators, played their part in promoting it. But when\nwe consider that Germany held all the winning cards in a game of\npeaceful penetration and economic competition, we should attribute to\nthe Imperial Government a strange recklessness if we did not conclude\nthat the political condition of Germany itself, and the automatic\nworking of the machine, were the main causes why the attack was made.\nThere is, in fact, abundant evidence that it was so. The scheme failed\nonly because Germany was foolish enough to threaten England before\nsettling accounts with Russia. But this, again, was the result of\ninternal pressure. Hamburg, and all the interests which the name stands\nfor, cared less for expansion in the East than for the capture of\nmarkets overseas. For this important section of conservative Germany,\nEngland was the enemy. So the gauntlet was thrown down to the whole\ncivilised world at once, and the odds against Germany were too great.\n\nFor the time being, the world has no example of a strong monarchy. The\nthree great European empires are, at the time of writing, in a state of\nseptic dissolution. The victors have sprung to the welcome conclusion\nthat democracy is everywhere triumphant, and that before long no other\ntype of civilised state will exist. The amazing provincialism of\nAmerican political thought accepts this conclusion without demur; and\nour public men, some of whom doubtless know better, have served the\nneeds of the moment by effusions of political nonsense which almost\nsurpass the orations delivered every year on the Fourth of July. But no\nhistorian can suppose that one of the most widespread and successful\nforms of human association has been permanently extinguished because the\nCentral Empires were not quite strong enough to conquer Europe, an\nattempt which has always failed, and probably will always fail. The\nissue is not fully decided, even for our own generation. The ascendancy\nwill belong to that nation which is the best organised, the most\nstrenuous, the most intelligent, the most united. Before the war none\nwould have hesitated to name Germany as holding this position; and until\nthe downfall of the Empire the nation seemed to possess those qualities\nunimpaired. The three Empires collapsed in hideous chaos as soon as they\ndeposed their monarchs. In the case of Russia, it is difficult to\nimagine any recovery until the monarchy is restored; and Germany would\nprobably be well-advised to choose some member of the imperial family as\na constitutional sovereign. A monarch frequently represents his\nsubjects better than an elected assembly; and if he is a good judge of\ncharacter he is likely to have more capable and loyal advisers.\nPresident Wilson's declaration that 'a steadfast concert for peace can\nnever be maintained except by a partnership of democratic nations; for\nno autocratic government could ever be trusted to keep faith within it,'\nis one of the most childish exhibitions of doctrinaire _naivete_ which\never proceeded from the mouth of a public man. History gives no\ncountenance to the theory that popular governments are either more moral\nor more pacific than strong monarchies. The late Lord Salisbury, in one\nof his articles in the _Quarterly Review_, spoke the truth on this\nsubject. 'Moderation, especially in the matter of territory, has never\nbeen a characteristic of democracy. Wherever it has had free play, in\nthe ancient world or the modern, in the old hemisphere or the new, a\nthirst for empire and a readiness for aggressive war has always marked\nit. Though governments may have an appearance and even a reality of\npacific intent, their action is always liable to be superseded by the\nviolent and vehement operations of mere ignorance.' The United States\nare no exception to this rule. They have extended their dominion by much\nthe same means as the empire of the Tsars or our own. Texas and Upper\nCalifornia, the Philippines and Porto Rico, were annexed forcibly; New\nMexico, Alaska, and Louisiana were bought; Florida was acquired by\ntreaty; Maine filched from Canada. In no case were the wishes of the\ninhabitants consulted. Our own experience of republicanism is the same.\nIt was during the short period when Great Britain had no king that\nCromwell's court-poet, Andrew Marvell, urged him to complete his\nglorious career by demolishing our present allies:\n\n    A Caesar he, ere long, to Gaul,\n    To Italy an Hannibal.\n\nOn the other hand, none of the 'autocrats' wanted this war. The Kaiser\nwas certainly pushed into it.\n\nDemocracy is a form of government which may be rationally defended, not\nas being good, but as being less bad than any other. Its strongest\nmerits seem to be: first, that the citizens of a democracy have a sense\nof proprietorship and responsibility in public affairs, which in times\nof crisis may add to their tenacity and endurance. The determination of\nthe Federals in the American Civil War, and of the French and British in\nthe four years' struggle against Germany, may be legitimately adduced as\narguments for democracy. When De Tocqueville says that 'it is hard for a\ndemocracy to begin or to end a war,' the second is truer than the first.\nAnd, secondly, the educational value of democracy is so great that it\nmay be held to counterbalance many defects. Mill decides in favour of\ndemocracy mainly on the ground that 'it promotes a better and higher\nform of national character than any other polity,' since government by\nauthority stunts the intellect, narrows the sympathies, and destroys the\npower of initiative. 'The perfect commonwealth,' says Mr. Zimmern,' is a\nsociety of free men and women, each at once ruling and being ruled,' It\nis also fair to argue that monarchies do not escape the worst evils of\ndemocracies. An autocracy is often obliged to oppress the educated\nclasses and to propitiate the mob. Domitian massacred senators with\nimpunity, and only fell '_postquam cerdonibus esse timendus coeperat_.'\nIf an autocracy does not rest on the army, which leads to the chaos of\npraetorianism, it must rely on '_panem et circenses_.' Hence it has some\nof the worst faults of democracy, without its advantages. As Mr. Graham\nWallas says: 'When a Tsar or a bureaucracy finds itself forced to govern\nin opposition to a vague national feeling which may at any moment create\nan overwhelming national purpose, the autocrat becomes the most\nunscrupulous of demagogues, and stirs up racial or religious or social\nhatred, or the lust for foreign war, with less scruple than a newspaper\nproprietor under a democracy,' The autocrat, in fact, is often a slave,\nas the demagogue is often a tyrant. Lastly, the democrat may urge that\none of the commonest accusations against democracy--that the populace\nchooses its rulers badly--is not true in times of great national danger.\nOn the contrary, it often shows a sound instinct in finding the\nstrongest man to carry it through a crisis. At such times the parrots\nand monkeys are discarded, and a Napoleon or a Kitchener is given a\nfree hand, though he may have despised all the demagogic arts. In other\nwords, a democracy sometimes knows when to abdicate. The excesses of\nrevolutionists are not an argument against democracy, since revolutions\nare anything rather than democratic.\n\nNevertheless, the indictment against democracy is a very heavy one, and\nit is worth while to state the main items in the charge.\n\n1. Whatever may be truly said about the good sense of a democracy during\na great crisis, at ordinary times it does not bring the best men to the\ntop. Professor Hearnshaw, in his admirable 'Democracy at the\nCrossroads,' collects a number of weighty opinions confirming this\njudgment. Carlyle, who proclaimed the merits of silence in some thirty\nvolumes, blames democracy for ignoring the 'noble, silent men' who could\nserve it best, and placing power in the hands of windbags. Ruskin,\nMatthew Arnold, Sir James Stephen, Sir Henry Maine, and Lecky, all agree\nthat 'the people have for the most part neither the will nor the power\nto find out the best men to lead them.' In France the denunciations of\ndemocratic politicians are so general that it would be tedious to\nenumerate the writers who have uttered them. One example will suffice;\nthe words are the words of Anatole Beaulieu in 1885:\n\n     The wider the circle from which politicians and\n     state-functionaries are recruited, the lower seems their\n     intellectual level to have sunk. This deterioration in the\n     personnel of government has been yet more striking from the\n     moral point of view. Politics have tended to become more\n     corrupt, more debased, and to soil the hands of those who\n     take part in them and the men who get their living by them.\n     Political battles have become too bitter and too vulgar not\n     to have inspired aversion in the noblest and most upright\n     natures by their violence and their intrigues. The elite of\n     the nation in more than one country are showing a tendency\n     to have nothing to do with them. Politics is an industry in\n     which a man, to prosper, requires less intelligence and\n     knowledge than boldness and capacity for intrigue. It has\n     already become in some states the most ignominious of\n     careers. Parties are syndicates for exploitation, and its\n     forms become ever more shameless.\n\nA later account of French politics, drawn from inside knowledge and\nexperience, is the remarkable novel, 'Les Morts qui parlent,' by the\nVicomte Le Vogue. Readers of this book will not forget the description\nof the _bain de haine_ in which a new deputy at once finds himself\nplunged, and the canker of corruption which eats into the whole system.\nIt is no wonder that the majority of Frenchmen do not care to record\ntheir votes. In 1906, 5,209,606 votes were given, 6,383,852 electors did\nnot go to the poll. The record of democracy in the new countries is no\nbetter. We must regretfully admit that Louis Simond was right when he\nsaid, 'Few people take the trouble to persuade the people, except those\nwho see their interest in deceiving them.'\n\n2. The democracy is a ready victim to shibboleths and catchwords, as all\ndemagogues know too well. 'The abstract idea,' as Scherer says, 'is the\nnational aliment of popular rhetoric, the fatal form of thought which,\nfor want of solid knowledge, operates in a vacuum.' The politician has\nonly to find a fascinating formula; facts and arguments are powerless\nagainst it. The art of the demagogue is the art of the parrot; he must\nutter some senseless catchword again and again, working on the\nsuggestibility of the crowd. Archbishop Trench, 'On the Study of Words,'\nnotices this fact of psychology and the use which is commonly made of\nit.\n\n     If I wanted any further evidence of the moral atmosphere\n     which words diffuse, I would ask you to observe how the\n     first thing men do, when engaged in controversy with others,\n     is ever to assume some honourable name to themselves, such\n     as, if possible, shall beg the whole subject in dispute, and\n     at the same time to affix on their adversaries a name which\n     shall place them in a ridiculous or contemptible or odious\n     light. A deep instinct, deeper perhaps than men give any\n     account of to themselves, tells them how far this will go;\n     that multitudes, utterly unable to weigh the arguments on\n     one side or the other, will yet be receptive of the\n     influences which these words are evermore, however\n     imperceptibly, diffusing. By argument they might hope to\n     gain over the reason of a few, but by help of these\n     nicknames the prejudices and passions of the many.\n\nThe chief instrument of this base art is no longer the public speech\nbut the newspaper.\n\nThe psychology of the crowd has been much studied lately, by Le Bon and\nother writers in France, by Mr. Graham Wallas in England. I think that\nLe Bon is in danger of making The Crowd a mystical, superhuman entity.\nOf course, a crowd is made up of individuals, who remain individuals\nstill. We must not accept the stuffed idol of Rousseau and the\nsocialists, 'The General Will,' and turn it into an evil spirit. There\nis no General Will. All we have a right to say is that individuals are\noccasionally guided by reason, crowds never.\n\n3. Several critics of democracy have accused it not only of rash\niconoclasm, but of obstinate conservatism and obstructiveness. It seems\nunreasonable to charge the same persons with two opposite faults; but it\nis true that where the popular emotions are not touched, the masses will\ncling to old abuses from mere force of habit. As Maine says, universal\nsuffrage would have prohibited the spinning-jenny and the power-loom,\nthe threshing-machine and the Gregorian calendar; and it would have\nrestored the Stuarts. The theory of democracy--_vox populi vox dei_--is\na pure superstition, a belief in a divine or natural sanction which does\nnot exist. And superstition is usually obstructive. 'We erect the\ntemporary watchwords of evanescent politics into eternal truths; and\nhaving accepted as platitudes the paradoxes of our fathers, we\nperpetuate them as obstacles to the progress of our children.'[1]\n\n4. A more serious danger is that of vexatious and inquisitive tyranny.\nThis is exercised partly through public opinion, a vulgar, impertinent,\nanonymous tyrant who deliberately makes life unpleasant for anyone who\nis not content to be the average man. But partly it is seen in constant\ninterference with the legislature and the executive. No one can govern\nwho cannot afford to be unpopular, and no democratic official can afford\nto be unpopular. Sometimes he has to wink at flagrant injustice and\noppression; at other times a fanatical agitation compels him to pass\nlaws which forbid the citizen to indulge perfectly harmless tastes, or\ntax him to contribute to the pleasures of the majority. In many ways a\nRussian under the Tsars was far less interfered with than an Englishman\nor American or Australian.\n\n5. But the two diseases which are likely to be fatal to democracy are\nanarchy and corruption. A democratic government is almost necessarily\nweak and timid. A democracy cannot tolerate a strong executive for fear\nof seeing the control pass out of the hands of the mob. The executive\nmust be unarmed and defenceless. The result is that it is at the mercy\nof any violent and anti-social faction. No civilised government has ever\ngiven a more ludicrous and humiliating object-lesson than the Cabinet\nand House of Commons in the years before the war, in face of the\noutrages committed by a small gang of female anarchists. The\nlegalisation of terrorism by the trade-unions was too tragic a surrender\nto be ludicrous, but it was even more disgraceful. None could be\nsurprised when, during the war, the Government shrank from dealing with\ntreasonable conspiracy in the same quarter.\n\n     The _Times_ for May 24, 1917, contained a noteworthy example\n     of justice influenced by pressure, and therefore applied\n     with flagrant inequality. In parallel columns appeared\n     reports of 'sugar-sellers fined' and 'strike leaders\n     released.' The former paid the full penalty of their\n     misdeeds because no body of outside opinion maintained them.\n     The latter, who were stated to have committed offences for\n     which the maximum penalty was penal servitude for life, got\n     off scot-free because they were members of a powerful\n     organisation which was able to bring immense weight to bear\n     on the Government.[2]\n\nThe 'immense weight' was, of course, the threat of virtually betraying\nthe country to the Germans. The country is at this moment at the mercy\nof any lawless faction which may choose either to hold the community to\nransom by paralysing our trade and channels of supply, or by organised\nviolence against life and property. Democracy is powerless against\nsectional anarchism; and when such movements break out there is no\nremedy except by substituting for democracy a government of a very\ndifferent type.\n\nDemocracy is, in fact, a disintegrating force. It is strong in\ndestruction, and tends to fall to pieces when the work of demolition\n(which may of course be a necessary task) is over. Democracy dissolves\ncommunities into individuals and collects them again into mobs. It pulls\nup by the roots the social order which civilisation has gradually\nevolved, and leaves men _deracines_, as Bourget says in one of his best\nnovels, homeless and friendless, with no place ready for them to fill.\nIt is the opposite extreme to the caste system of India, which, with all\nits faults, does not seem to breed the European type of _enrage_, the\nenemy of society as such.\n\n6. The corruption of democracies proceeds directly from the fact that\none class imposes the taxes and another class pays them. The\nconstitutional principle, 'No taxation without representation,' is\nutterly set at nought under a system which leaves certain classes\nwithout any effective representation at all. At the present time it is\nsaid that one-tenth of the population pays five-sixths of the taxes. The\nclass which imposes the taxes has refused to touch the burden of the war\nwith one of its fingers; and every month new doles at the public expense\nare distributed under the camouflage of 'social reform.' At every\nelection the worldly goods of the minority are put up to auction. This\nis far more immoral than the old-fashioned election bribery, which was a\ncomparatively honest deal between two persons; and in its effects it is\nfar more ruinous. Democracy is likely to perish, like the monarchy of\nLouis XVI, through national bankruptcy.\n\nBesides these defects, the democracy has ethical standards of its own,\nwhich differ widely from those of the educated classes. Among the poor,\n'generosity ranks far before justice, sympathy before truth, love before\nchastity, a pliant and obliging disposition before a rigidly honest one.\nIn brief, the less admixture of intellect required for the practice of\nany virtue, the higher it stands in popular estimation.[3] In this\ncountry, at any rate, democracy means a victory of sentiment over\nreason. Some may prefer the softer type of character, and may hope that\nit will make civilisation more humane and compassionate than it has been\nin the past. Unfortunately, experience shows that none is so cruel as\nthe disillusioned sentimentalist. He thinks that he can break or ignore\nnature's laws with impunity; and then, when he finds that nature has no\nsentiment, he rages like a mad dog, and combines with his theoretical\nobjection to capital punishment a lust to murder all who disagree with\nhim. This is the genesis of Jacobinism and Bolshevism.\n\nBut whether we think that the bad in democracy predominates over the\ngood, or the good over the bad, a question which I shall not attempt to\ndecide, the popular balderdash about it corresponds to no real\nconviction. The upper class has never believed in it; the middle class\nhas the strongest reasons to hate and fear it. But how about the lower\nclass, in whose interests the whole machine is supposed to have been set\ngoing? The working man has no respect for either democracy or liberty.\nHis whole interest is in transferring the wealth of the minority to his\nown pocket. There was a time when he thought that universal suffrage\nwould get for him what he desires; but he has lost all faith in\nconstitutional methods. To levy blackmail on the community, under\nthreats of civil war, seems to him a more expeditious way of gaining his\nobject. Monopolies are to be established by pitiless coercion of those\nwho wish to keep their freedom. The trade unions are large capitalists;\nthey are well able to start factories for themselves and work them for\ntheir own exclusive profit. But they find it more profitable to hold the\nnation to ransom by blockading the supply of the necessaries of life.\nThe new labourer despises productivity for the same reason that the old\nrobber barons did: it is less trouble to take money than to make it. The\nmost outspoken popular leaders no longer conceal their contempt for and\nrejection of democracy. The socialists perceive the irreconcilable\ncontradiction between the two ideas,[4] and they are right. Democracy\npostulates community of interest or loyal patriotism. When these are\nabsent it cannot long exist. Syndicalism, which seems to be growing, is\nthe antipodes of socialism, but, like socialism, it can make no terms\nwith democracy. 'If syndicalism triumphs,' says its chief prophet Sorel,\n'the parliamentary regime, so dear to the intellectuals, will be at an\nend.' 'The syndicalist has a contempt for the vulgar idea of democracy;\nthe vast unconscious mass is not to be taken into account when the\nminority wishes to act so as to benefit it.'[5] 'The effect of political\nmajorities,' says Mr. Levine, 'is to hinder advance,' Accordingly,\npolitical methods are rejected with contempt. The anarchists go one step\nfurther. Bakunin proclaims that 'we reject all legislation, all\nauthority, and all influence, even when it has proceeded from universal\nsuffrage.' These powerful movements, opposed as they are to each other,\nagree in spurning the very idea of democracy, which Lord Morley defines\nas government by public opinion, and which may be defined with more\nprecision as direct government by the votes of the majority among the\nadult members of a nation. Even a political philosopher like Mr. Lowes\nDickinson says, 'For my part, I am no democrat.'\n\nWho then are the friends of this _curieux fetiche_, as Quinet called\ndemocracy? It appears to have none, though it has been the subject of\nfatuous laudation ever since the time of Rousseau. The Americans burn\nincense before it, but they are themselves ruled by the Boss and the\nTrust.\n\nThe attempt to justify the labour movement as a legitimate development\nof the old democratic Liberalism is futile. Freedom to form\ncombinations is no doubt a logical application of _laisser faire_; and\nthe anarchic possibilities latent in _laisser faire_ have been made\nplain in the anti-democratic movements of labour. But Liberalism rested\non a too favourable estimate of human nature and on a belief in the law\nof progress. As there is no law of progress, and as civilised society is\nbeing destroyed by the evil passions of men, Liberalism is, for the\ntime, quite discredited. It would also be true to say that there is a\nfundamental contradiction between the two dogmas of Liberalism. These\nwere, that unlimited competition is stimulating to the competitors and\ngood for the country, and that every individual is an end, not a means.\nBoth are anarchical; but the first logically issues in individualistic\nanarchy, the last in communistic anarchy. The economic and the ethical\ntheory of Liberalism cannot be harmonised. The result--cruel competition\ntempered by an artificial process of counter-selection in favour of the\nunfittest--was by no means satisfactory. But it was better than what we\nare now threatened with.\n\nThat the labour movement is economically rotten it is easy to prove. In\nthe words of Professor Hearnshaw, 'the government has ceased to govern\nin the world of labour, and has been compelled, instead of governing, to\nbribe, to cajole, to beg, to grovel. It has purchased brief truces at\nthe cost of increasing levies of Danegeld drawn from the diminishing\nresources of the patient community. It has embarked on a course of\npayment of blackmail which must end either in national bankruptcy or in\nthe social revolution which the anarchists seek.' The powerful\ntrade-unions are now plundering both the owners of their 'plant,' and\nthe general public. It is easy to show that their members already get\nmuch more than their share of the national wealth. Professor Bowley[6]\nhas estimated that an equal division of the national income would give\nabout L160 a year to each family, free of taxes. But even this estimate,\ndiscouraging as it is, seems not to allow sufficiently for the fact that\nunder the present system much of the income of the richer classes is\ncounted twice or three times over. Abolish large incomes, and jewels,\npictures, wines, furs, special and rare skill like that of the operating\nsurgeon and fashionable portrait painter, lose all or most of their\nmoney value. All the large professional incomes, except those of the low\ncomedian and his like, are made out of the rich, and are counted at\nleast twice for income-tax. It is certain that a large part of the\nnational income could not be 'redistributed,' and that in the attempt to\ndo so credit would be destroyed and wealth would melt like a snow man.\nThe miners, therefore, are not seeking justice; they are blackmailing\nrich and poor alike by their monopoly of one of the necessaries of life.\nAnd now they strike against paying income-tax!\n\nIt is not necessary or just to bring railing accusations against any\nclass as a body. Power is always abused, and in this case there is much\nhonest ignorance, stimulated by agitators who are seldom honest. In a\nrecent number of the _Edinburgh Review_ Sir Lynden Macassey speaks of\nthe widespread, almost universal, fallacies to which the hand-worker has\nfallen a victim. They believe that all their aspirations can be\nsatisfied out of present-day profits and production. They believe that\nin restricting output they are performing a moral duty to their class.\nThey do not believe that the prosperity of the country depends upon its\nproduction, and are opposed to all labour-saving devices. They refuse\nco-operation because they desire the continuance of the class-war. Such\nperversity would seem hardly credible if it were not attested by\noverwhelming evidence. The Government remedy is first to create\nunemployment and then to endow it--the shortest and maddest road to ruin\nsince the downfall of the Roman Empire.\n\nWe may have a faint hope that some of these fallacies will be abandoned\nby the workmen when their destructive results can no longer be\nconcealed. But sentimentalism seems to be incurable. It erects\nirrationality into an act of religious faith, gives free rein to the\nemotion of pity, and thinks that it is imitating the Good Samaritan by\nrobbing the Priest and Levite for the benefit of the man by the\nroad-side. The sentimentalist shows a bitter hatred against those who\nwish to cure an evil by removing its causes. A good example is the\nlanguage of writers like Mr. Chesterton about eugenics and population.\nIf social maladies were treated scientifically, the trade of the\nemotional rhetorician would be gone.\n\nWe have seen that democracy--the rule of majorities--has been\ndiscredited and abandoned in action, though officially we all bow down\nbefore it. Another popular delusion is that the chief change in the last\nfifty years has been a conversion of the world from individualism to\nsocialism. In the language of the Christian socialists, who wish to\ncombine the militant spirit and organisation of medieval Catholicism\nwith a bid for the popular vote, we have 'rediscovered the Corporate\nIdea.' But if we take socialism, not in the narrower sense of\ncollectivism, which would be an economic experiment, but in the wider\nsense of a keen consciousness of the solidarity of the community as an\norganic whole, there is very little truth in the commonly held notion\nthat we have become more socialistic. It is easy to see how the idea has\narisen. It became necessary to find some theoretical justification for\nraising taxes, no longer for national needs, but for the benefit of the\nclass which imposed them; and this justification was found in the theory\nthat all wealth belongs to 'the State,' and may be justly divided up as\n'the State'--that is to say, the majority of the voters--may determine.\nWhenever the question arises of voting new doles to the dominant section\nof the people at the expense of the minority, our new political\nphilosophers profess themselves fervent socialists. But true socialism,\nwhich is almost synonymous with patriotism, is as conspicuously absent\nin those who call themselves socialists as it is strong in those who\nrepudiate the title. This paradox can be easily proved. The most\nsocialistic enterprise in which a nation ever engages is a great war. A\nnation at war is conscious of its corporate unity and its common\ninterests, as it is at no other time. The nation then calls upon every\ncitizen to surrender all his personal rights and to offer his life and\nlimbs in the service of the community. And what has been the record of\nthe 'socialists' in the struggle for national existence in which we have\nbeen engaged? In the years preceding the war they ridiculed the idea\nthat the country was in danger of being attacked, and used all their\npower to prevent us from preparing against attack. They steadily opposed\nthe teaching of patriotism in the schools. When the war began, they\nprevented the Government from introducing compulsory service until our\nFrench Allies, who were left to bear the brunt, were on the point of\ncollapse; they, in very many cases, refused to serve themselves, thereby\navowing that, as far as they were concerned, they were willing to see\ntheir country conquered by a horde of cruel barbarians; and they nearly\nhanded over our armies to destruction by fomenting strikes at the most\ncritical periods of the war. This attitude cannot be accounted for by\nany conscientious objection to violence, which is in fact their\nfavourite weapon, except against the enemies of their country. Their\nsocialism is, in truth, individualism run mad; it is the very antithesis\nto the consciousness of organic unity in a nation, which is the\nspiritual basis of socialism. In this sense, the nation as a whole has\nshown a fine socialistic temper; but the disgraceful exception has been\nthe socialist party. The intense and perverted individualism of the\nso-called socialist is shown in another way. Whatever liberties a State\nmay permit to its citizens, it is certain that no nation can be in a\nhealthy condition unless the government keeps in its own hands the keys\nof birth and of death. The State has the right of the farmer to decide\nhow many cows should be allowed to graze upon ten acres of grass; the\nright of the forester to decide how many square feet are required for\neach tree in a wood. It has also the right and the duty of the gardener\nto pull up noxious weeds in his flower-beds. But the socialist\nvehemently repudiates both these rights. Being an ultra-individualist,\nhe is in favour of _laisser faire_, where _laisser faire_ is most\nindefensible and most disastrous.\n\nIt would be easy to maintain that the organic idea was more potent, both\nunder medieval feudalism and under nineteenth-century industrialism,\nthan it is now. In former days, economic and social equality were not\neven aimed at, because it was thought inevitable that in a social\norganism there must be subordination and a hierarchy of functions.\nEssentially, and in the sight of God, all are equal, or, rather, the\nessential differences between man and man are absolutely independent of\nsocial status. In a few years Lazarus may be in heaven and Dives in\nhell. Beside this equality of moral opportunity and tremendous\ninequality in self-chosen destiny, the status of master and servant\nseemed of small importance; it was a temporary and trivial accident.\nAccordingly, in feudal times, as to-day in really Catholic communities,\nfeelings of injustice and social bitterness were seldom aroused and\nclass differences take on a more genial colour. In spite of the\nlawlessness and brutality of the Middle Ages it is probable that men\nwere happier then than they are now.\n\nThe French Revolution, which was a disintegrating solvent, pulverised\nsociety, and was impotent to reconstruct it. Yet under the industrial\nregime which followed it in this country, the nation was conscious of\nits unity. The system was the best that could have been devised for\nincreasing the population and aggregate wealth of the country; and even\nthose who suffered most under it were not without pride in its results.\nThe ill-paid workman of the last century would have thought it a poor\nthing to do a deliberately bad day's work.\n\nI am not praising either the age of feudalism or the 'hungry forties' of\nthe nineteenth century. In the latter case especially the sacrifice\nexacted from the poor was too great for the rather vulgar success of\nwhich it was the condition. But to call that age the period of\nindividualism, and our own generation the period of socialism, is in my\nopinion a profound mistake. In Germany, too, the real socialists are not\nthe 'Spartacist' scoundrels who have betrayed and ruined their country,\nbut the bureaucracy with their _Deutschland ueber Alles_. If I were a\nlittle more of a socialist, I could almost admire them, in spite of all\ntheir crimes.\n\nThe landed gentry (and in honesty I must add the endowed clergy) are a\nsurvival of feudalism, as the capitalist is a survival of industrialism.\nBoth have to a large extent survived their functions. The mailclad\nbaron, round whose fortified castle the peasants and others gathered for\nprotection, has become the country gentleman, against whom the\nindictment is not so much that his only pursuit is pleasure, as that his\nonly pleasure is pursuit. 'The rich man in his castle, the poor man at\nhis gate' were intelligible while the rich man protected the poor man\nfrom being plundered and killed by marauders; but in our times nobody\nwants a castle or to live under the shadow of a castle. The clerical\nprofession was a necessity when most people could neither read nor\nwrite. But to-day our best prophets and preachers are laymen. As at\nancient Athens, in the time of Aristophanes, 'the young learn from the\nschoolmaster, the mature from the poets.' Similarly, the captain of\nindustry cannot hold the same autocratic position as formerly, in view\nof the growing intelligence and capacity of the workmen; and the\ncapitalist who is not a captain of industry is a debtor to the community\nto an extent which he does not always realise. This class is becoming\npainfully conscious of its vulnerability.\n\nThere are, therefore, irrational survivals in our social order; and\nthough it may be proved that they are not a severe burden on the\ncommunity, it is natural that popular bitterness and discontent should\nfasten upon them and exaggerate their evil results. It cannot be\ndisputed that this bitterness and discontent were becoming very acute in\nthe years before the war. An increasing number of persons saw no meaning\nand no value in our civilisation. This feeling was common in all\nclasses, including the so-called leisured class; and was so strong that\nmany welcomed with joy the clear call to a plain duty, though it was the\nduty of facing all the horrors of war. What is the cause of this\ndiscontent? There are few more important questions for us to answer.\n\nThose who find the cause in the existence of the survivals which we have\nmentioned are certainly mistaken. It is no new thing that there should\nbe a small class more or less parasitic on the community. The whole\nnumber of persons who pay income-tax on L5000 a year and upwards is\nonly 13,000 out of 46 millions, and their wealth, if it could be divided\nup, would make no appreciable difference to the working man. The\nwage-earners are better off than they have ever been before in our\nhistory, and the danger of revolution comes not from the poor, but from\nthe privileged artisans who already have incomes above the family\naverage. We must look elsewhere for an explanation of social unrest. If\nwe consider what are the chief centres of discontent throughout the\ncivilised world, we shall find that they are the great aggregations of\npopulation in wealthy industrial countries. Social unrest is a disease\nof town-life. Wherever the conditions which create the great modern city\nexist, we find revolutionary agitation. It has spread to Barcelona, to\nBuenos Ayres, and to Osaka, in the wake of the factory. The inhabitants\nof the large town do not envy the countryman and would not change with\nhim. But, unknown to themselves, they are leading an unnatural life, cut\noff from the kindly and wholesome influences of nature, surrounded by\nvulgarity and ugliness, with no traditions, no loyalties, no culture,\nand no religion. We seldom reflect on the strangeness of the fact that\nthe modern working-man has few or no superstitions. At other times the\nmasses have evolved for themselves some picturesque nature-religion,\nsome pious ancestor-worship, some cult of saints or heroes, some stories\nof fairies, ghosts, or demons, and a mass of quaint superstitions,\ngenial or frightening. The modern town-dweller has no God and no Devil;\nhe lives without awe, without admiration, without fear. Whatever we may\nthink about these beliefs, it is not natural for men and women to be\nwithout them. The life of the town artisan who works in a factory is a\nlife to which the human organism has not adapted itself; it is an\nunwholesome and unnatural condition. Hence, probably, comes the\n_malaise_ which makes him think that any radical change must be for the\nbetter.\n\nWhatever the cause of the disease may be (and I do not pretend that the\nconditions of urban life are an adequate explanation) the malady is\nthere, and will probably prove fatal to our civilisation. I have given\nmy views on this subject in the essay called _The Future of the English\nRace._ And yet there is a remedy within the reach of all if we would\nonly try it.\n\nThe essence of the Christian revelation is the proclamation of a\nstandard of absolute values, which contradicts at every point the\nestimates of good and evil current in 'the world.' It is not necessary,\nin such an essay as this, to write out the Beatitudes, or the very\nnumerous passages in the Gospels and Epistles in which the same lessons\nare enforced. It is not necessary to remind the reader that in\nChristianity all the paraphernalia of life are valued very lightly; that\nall the good and all the evil which exalt or defile a man have their\nseat within him, in his own character; that we are sent into the world\nto suffer and to conquer suffering; that it is more blessed to give than\nto receive; that love is the great revealer of the mysteries of life;\nthat we have here no continuing city, and must therefore set our\naffections and lay up our treasures in heaven; that the things that are\nseen are temporal, and the things that are not seen are eternal. This is\nthe Christian religion. It is a form of idealism; and idealism means a\nbelief in absolute or spiritual values.\n\nWhen applied to human life, it introduces, as it were, a new currency,\nwhich demonetises the old; or gives us a new scale of prices, in which\nthe cheapest things are the dearest, and the dearest the cheapest. The\nworld's standards are quantitative; those of Christianity are\nqualitative. And being qualitative, spiritual goods are unlimited in\namount; they are increased by being shared; and we rob nobody by taking\nthem.\n\nSecularists ask impatiently what Christianity has done or proposes to do\nto make mankind happier, by which they mean more comfortable. The answer\nis (to put it in a form intelligible to the questioner) that\nChristianity increases the wealth of the world by creating new values.\nWealth depends on human valuation. For example, if women were\nsufficiently well educated not to care about diamonds, the Kimberley\nmines would pay no dividends, and the rents in Park Lane would go down.\nThe prices of paintings by old masters would decline if millionaires\npreferred to collect another kind of scalps to decorate their wigwams.\nBookmakers and company-promoters live on the widespread passion for\nacquiring money without working for it. It is hardly possible to\nestimate the increase of real wealth, and the stoppage of waste, which\nwould result from the adoption of a rational, still more of a Christian,\nvaluation of the good things of life. I have dealt with this subject in\nthe essay on _The Indictment against Christianity_, and have emphasised\nthe importance of taking into consideration, in all economic questions,\nthe _human costs_ of production, the factors which make work pleasant or\nirksome, and especially the moral condition of the worker. Good-will\ndiminishes the toll which labour takes of the labourer; envy and hatred\nvastly increase it while they diminish its product. It is, of course,\nimpossible that the worker should not resent having to devote his life\nto making what is useless or mischievous, and to ministering to the\nirrational wastefulness of luxury. Christianity, in condemning the\nselfish and irresponsible use of money, seeks to remove one of the chief\ncauses of social bitterness. Senseless extravagance is the best friend\nof revolution.\n\nThe abuse poured upon 'the old political economy,' as it is called, is\nonly half deserved. As compared with the insane doctrines now in favour\nwith the working-man, the old political economy was sound and sensible.\nHard work, thrift, and economy in production are, in truth, as we used\nto be told, the only ways to increase the national wealth, and the\ncontrary practices can only lead to economic ruin. There is not much\nfault to find with the old economists so long as they recognised that\ntheir science was an abstract science, which for its own purposes dealt\nwith an unreal abstraction--the 'economic man.' Every science is obliged\nto isolate one aspect of reality in this way. But when political economy\nwas treated as a philosophy of life it began to be mischievous. A book\non 'the science of the stomach,' without knowledge of physiology or the\nworking of other organs, would not be of much use. Man has never been a\nmerely acquisitive being; for example, he is also a fighting and a\npraying being. If our dominant motives were changed, the whole\nconditions dealt with by political economy would change with them. There\nhave been civilisations in which the passion for accumulation was\ncomparatively weak; and notoriously there are many persons in whom it is\nwholly absent. Devotion to art, to scientific investigation, and to\nreligion is strong enough, where it exists, to kill 'the economic man'\nin human nature. A civilised nation honours its idealists, and\nrecognises the immense benefit which they confer on the community by\ncreating or revealing new and inexhaustible values; in an uncivilised\ncountry they can hardly live. Ruskin and William Morris saw, and\ndoubtless exaggerated, the danger to which spiritual values were exposed\nat the hands of the dominant economism. Our danger now is that neglect\nof the simplest economic laws may plunge the nation into such misery\nthat the people will no longer be willing to support art, science,\nlearning, and philosophy. A large section of the labour party has the\nsame standard of values as the hated 'capitalist,' and detests those\nwhom it calls intellectuals and sky-pilots because they depreciate the\ncurrency which their class, no less than the capitalist, believes to be\nthe only sound money.\n\nIt may be asked whether there is any reason to think that there is now\nless regard for the higher, the qualitative values of life, than at\nother periods. My opinion is that ever since the time of Rousseau and\nhis contemporaries, we have been led astray by a will-of-the-wisp akin\nto the apocalyptic dreams of the Jews in the last two centuries before\nChrist, dreams which also filled the minds of the first generation of\nChristians. The Greeks never made the mistake of throwing their ideals\ninto the future, a practice which, as Dr. Bosanquet has said, 'is the\ndeath of all sane idealism.' The belief in 'a good time coming' is a\nJewish delusion. It nourished the Jews in their amazing obstinacy, and\nled to the annihilation of their State which, to the very end, they saw\nin their dreams bruising all other nations with a rod of iron, and\nbreaking them in pieces like a potter's vessel. But, as any idealism is\nbetter than none, the Hebrew race has won remarkable triumphs, though of\na kind which it never desired.\n\nThe myth of progress is our form of apocalyptism. In France it began\nwith sentimentalism, developing normally into homicidal mania. In\nEngland it took the form of a kind of Deuteronomic religion. As a reward\nfor our national virtues, our population expanded, our exports and\nimports went up by leaps and bounds, and our empire received additions\nevery decade. It was plain that when Christ said 'Blessed are the meek,\nfor they shall inherit the earth,' He was thinking of the British\nEmpire. The whole structure of our social order encouraged the\nmeasurement of everything by quantitative standards. Everyone could\nunderstand that a generation which travels sixty miles an hour must be\nfive times as civilised as one which only travelled twelve. Thus the\nbeneficent 'law of progress' was exemplified in that nation which had\nbest deserved to be its exponent. The myth in question is that there is\na natural law of improvement, manifested by greater complexity of\nstructure, by increase of wants and the means to satisfy them. A nation\nadvances in civilisation by increasing in wealth and population, and by\nmultiplying the accessories and paraphernalia of life.\n\nBelief in this alleged law has vitiated our natural science, our\npolitical science, our history, our philosophy, and even our religion.\nScience declared that 'the survival of the fittest' was a law of nature,\nthough nature has condemned to extinction the majestic animals of the\nsaurian era, and has carefully preserved the bug, the louse, and the\nspirochaeta pallida.\n\n    We dined as a rule on each other;\n    What matter? the toughest survived,\n\nis a fair parody of this doctrine. In political science, by a portentous\nsnobbery, the actual evolution of European government was assumed to be\nin the line of upward progress. Our histories contrasted the benighted\ncondition of past ages with the high morality and general enlightenment\nof the present. In philosophy, the problem of evil was met by the\ntheory that though the Deity is not omnipotent yet, He is on His way to\nbecome so. He means well, and if we give Him time, He will make a real\nsuccess of His creation. Human beings, too, commonly make a very poor\nthing of their lives here. But continue their training after they are\ndead and they will all come to perfection. We have been living on this\nsecularised idealism for a hundred and fifty years. It has driven out\nthe true idealism, of which it is a caricature, and has made the deeper\nand higher kind of religious faith abnormally difficult. Even the hope\nof immortality has degenerated into a belief in apparitions and voices\nfrom the dead.\n\nNature knows nothing of this precious law. Her figure is not the\nvertical line, nor even the spiral, but the circle--the vicious circle,\naccording to Samuel Butler. 'Men eat birds, birds eat worms, worms eat\nmen again.' Some stars are getting hotter, others cooler. Life appears\nat a certain temperature and is extinguished at another temperature.\nEvolution and involution balance each other and go on concurrently. The\nnormal condition of every species on this planet is not progress but\nstationariness. 'Progress,' so-called, is an incident of adaptation to\nnew conditions. Bees and ants must have spent millennia in perfecting\ntheir organisation; now that they have reached a stable equilibrium, no\nmore changes are perceptible. The 'progress' of humanity has consisted\nalmost entirely in the transformation of the wild man of the woods, not\ninto _homo sapiens_ but into _homo faber_, man the tool-maker, a process\nof which nature expresses her partial disapproval by plaguing us with\ndiverse diseases and taking away our teeth and claws. It is not certain\nthat there has been much change in our intellectual and moral endowments\nsince pithecanthropus dropped the first half of his name. I should be\nsorry to have to maintain that the Germans of to-day are morally\nsuperior to the army which defeated Quintilius Varus, or that the modern\nTurks are more humane than the hordes of Timour the Tartar. If there is\nto be any improvement in human nature itself we must look to the infant\nscience of eugenics to help us.\n\nIt is not easy to say how this myth of progress came to take hold of\nthe imagination, in the teeth of science and experience. Quinet speaks\nof the 'fatalistic optimism' of historians, of which there have\ncertainly been some strange examples. We can only say that secularism,\nlike other religions, needs an eschatology, and has produced one. A more\nenergetic generation than ours looked forward to a gradual extension of\nbusy industrialism over the whole planet; the present ideal of the\nmasses seems to be the greatest idleness of the greatest number, or a\nFabian farm-yard of tame fowls, or (in America) an ice-water-drinking\ngynaecocracy. But the superstition cannot flourish much longer. The\nperiod of expansion is over, and we must adjust our view of earthly\nprovidence to a state of decline. For no nation can flourish when it is\nthe ambition of the large majority to put in fourpence and take out\nninepence. The middle-class will be the first victims; then the\nprivileged aristocracy of labour will exploit the poor. But trade will\ntake wings and migrate to some other country where labour is good and\ncomparatively cheap.\n\nThe dethronement of a fetish may give a sounder faith its chance. In the\ntime of decay and disintegration which lies before us, more persons will\nseek consolation where it can be found. 'Happiness and unhappiness,'\nsays Spinoza, 'depend on the nature of the object which we love. When a\nthing is not loved, no quarrels will arise concerning it, no sadness\nwill be felt if it perishes, no envy if it is possessed by another; no\nfear, no hatred, no disturbance of the mind. All these things arise from\nthe love of the perishable. But love for a thing eternal and infinite\nfeeds the mind wholly with joy, and is itself untainted with any\nsadness; wherefore it is greatly to be desired and sought for with our\nwhole strength.' It is well known that these noble words were not only\nsincere, but the expression of the working faith of the philosopher; and\nwe may hope that many who are doomed to suffer hardship and spoliation\nin the evil days that are coming will find the same path to a happiness\nwhich cannot be taken from them. Spinoza's words, of course, do not\npoint only to religious exercises and meditation. The spiritual world\nincludes art and science in all their branches, when these are studied\nwith a genuine devotion to the Good, the True, and the Beautiful for\ntheir own sakes. We shall need 'a remnant' to save Europe from relapsing\ninto barbarism; for the new forces are almost wholly cut off from the\nprecious traditions which link our civilisation with the great eras of\nthe past. The possibility of another dark age is not remote; but there\nmust be enough who value our best traditions to preserve them till the\nnext spring-time of civilisation. We must take long views, and think of\nour great-grandchildren.\n\nIt is tempting to dream of a new Renaissance, under which the life of\nreason will at last be the life of mankind. Though there is little sign\nof improvement in human nature, a favourable conjunction of\ncircumstances may bring about a civilisation very much better than ours\nto-day. For a time, at any rate, war may be practically abolished, and\nthe military qualities may find another and a less pernicious outlet.\n'Sport,' as Santayana says, 'is a liberal form of war stripped of its\ncompulsions and malignity; a rational art and the expression of a\ncivilised instinct.' The art of living may be taken in hand seriously.\nSome of the ingenuity which has lately been lavished on engines of\ndestruction may be devoted to improvements in our houses, which should\nbe easily and cheaply put together and able to be carried about in\nsections; on labour-saving devices which would make servants\nunnecessary; and on international campaigns against diseases, some of\nthe worst of which could be extinguished for ever by twenty years of\nconcerted effort. A scientific civilisation is not impossible, though we\nare not likely to live to see it. And, if science and humanism can work\ntogether, it will be a great age for mankind. Such hopes as these must\nbe allowed to float before our minds: they are not unreasonable, and\nthey will help us to get through the twentieth century, which is not\nlikely to be a pleasant time to live in.\n\nSome writers, like Mr. H.G. Wells, recognising the danger which\nthreatens civilisation, have suggested the formation of a society for\nmutual encouragement in the higher life. Mr. Wells developed this idea\nin his 'Modern Utopia.' He contemplated a brotherhood, like the\nJapanese Samurai, living by a Rule, a kind of lay monastic order, who\nshould endeavour to live in a perfectly rational and wholesome manner,\nso as to be the nucleus of whatever was best in the society of the time.\nThe scheme is interesting to a Platonist, because of its resemblance to\nthe Order of Guardians in the 'Republic.' A very good case may be made\nout for having an ascetic Order of moral and physical aristocrats, and\nentrusting them with the government of the country. Plato forbade his\nguardians to own wealth, and thus secured an uncorrupt administration,\none of the rarest and best of virtues in a government. But political\nevents are not moving in this direction at present; and the question for\nus is whether those who believe in science and humanism should attempt\nto form a society, not to rule the country, but to protect themselves\nand the ideas which they wish to preserve. But I agree with Mr. Wells'\nsecond thoughts, that the time is not ripe for such a scheme.[7]\nChristianity, 'the greatest new beginning in the world's history,'\nappeared, as he says, in an age of disintegration, and 'we are in a\nsynthetic rather than a disintegrating phase.... _Only a very vast and\nterrible war-explosion can, I think, change this state of affairs.'_ The\nvast explosion has occurred, and the stage of disintegration, which Mr.\nWells ought perhaps to have seen approaching even eleven years ago, has\nclearly begun. But it will have to go further before the need of such a\nsociety is felt. The time may come when the educated classes, and those\nwho desire freedom to live as they think right, will find themselves\noppressed, not only in their home-life by the tyranny of the\ntrade-unions, but in their souls by the pulpy and mawkish emotionalism\nof herd-morality. Then a league for mutual protection may be formed. If\nsuch a society ever comes into being, the following principles are, I\nthink, necessary for its success. First, it must be on a religious\nbasis, since religion has a cohesive force greater than any other bond.\nThe religious basis will be a blend of Christian Platonism and Christian\nStoicism, since it must be founded on that faith in absolute spiritual\nvalues which is common to Christianity and Platonism, with that sturdy\ndefiance of tyranny and popular folly which was the strength of\nStoicism. Next, it must not be affiliated to any religious organisation;\notherwise it will certainly be exploited in denominational interests.\nThirdly, it must include some purely disciplinary asceticism, such as\nabstinence from alcohol and tobacco for men, and from costly dresses and\njewellery for women. This is necessary, because it is more important to\nkeep out the half-hearted than to increase the number of members.\nFourthly, it must prescribe a simple life of duty and discipline, since\nfrugality will be a condition of enjoying self-respect and freedom.\nFifthly, it will enjoin the choice of an open-air life in the country,\nwhere possible. A whole group of French writers, such as Proudhon,\nDelacroix, Leconte de Lisle, Flaubert, Leblond, and Faguet agree in\nattributing our social _malaise_ to life in great towns. The lower\ndeath-rates of country districts are a hint from nature that they are\nright. Sixthly, every member must pledge himself to give his best work.\nAs Dr. Jacks says, 'Producers of good articles respect each other;\nproducers of bad despise each other and hate their work.' It may be\nnecessary for those who recognise the right of the labourer to preserve\nhis self-respect, to combine in order to satisfy each other's needs in\nresistance to the trade-unions. Seventhly, there must be provision for\ncommunity-life, like that of the old monasteries, for both sexes. The\nmembers of the society should be encouraged to spend some part of their\nlives in these institutions, without retiring from the world altogether.\nTemporary 'retreats' might be of great value. Intellectual work,\nincluding scientific research, could be carried on under very favourable\nconditions in these lay monasteries and convents, which should contain\ngood libraries and laboratories. Lastly, a distinctive dress, not merely\na badge, would probably be essential for members of both sexes.\n\nThis last provision tempts me to add that the Government would do well\nto appoint at once a Royal Commission, or, rather, two Commissions, to\ndecide on a compulsory national uniform for both sexes. Experts should\nrecommend the most comfortable, becoming, and economical dress that\ncould be devised, with considerable variety for the different trades and\nprofessions. Such a law would do more for social equality than any\nreadjustment of taxation. It has been often noticed that every man looks\na gentleman in khaki; and it is to be feared that many war brides have\nsuffered a painful surprise on seeing their husbands for the first time\nin civilian garb. There need be no suggestion of militarism about the\nnew costume; but a man's calling might be recorded, like the name of his\nregiment, on his shoulder-straps, and the absence of such a badge would\nbe regarded as a disgrace, whether the subject was a tramp or one of the\nidle rich. This suggestion may seem trivial, or even ludicrous; and I\nmay be reminded of my dislike of meddling legislation; but the\nimportance of the philosophy of clothes has not diminished since 'Sartor\nResartus.' Clerical dignitaries might be trusted to vote for this\nmitigation of their lot.\n\nSome may wonder why I have not expressed a hope that the guardianship of\nour intellectual and spiritual birthright may pass into the hands of the\nNational Church. I heartily wish that I could cherish this hope. But\norganised religion has been a failure ever since the first concordat\nbetween Church and State under Constantine the Great. The Church of\nEngland in its corporate capacity has never seemed to respect anything\nbut organised force. In the sixteenth century it proclaimed Henry VIII\nthe Supreme Head of the Church; in the seventeenth century it\npassionately upheld the 'right divine of kings to govern wrong'; in the\neighteenth and nineteenth it was the obsequious supporter of the\nsquirearchy and plutocracy; and now it grovels before the working-man,\nand supports every scheme of plundering the minority. In fact, we must\ndistinguish sharply between ecclesiasticism, theology, and religion. The\nfuture of ecclesiasticism is a political question. In the opinion of\nsome good judges, the acute nationalism now dominant in Europe will\nquickly pass away, and a duel will supervene between the 'Black\nInternational' and the 'Red.' Catholicism, it is supposed, will shelter\nall who dread revolution and all who value traditional civilisation; its\nunrivalled organisation will make it the one possible centre of\nresistance to anarchy and barbarism, and the conflict will go on till\none side or the other is overthrown. This prediction, which opens a\ntruly appalling prospect for civilisation, might be less terrible if the\nChurch were to open its arms to a new Renaissance, and become once more,\nas in the beginning of the modern period, the home of learning and the\npatroness of the arts. But we must not overlook the new and growing\npower of science; and science can no more make terms with Catholic\necclesiasticism than with the Revolution. The Jacobins guillotined\nLavoisier, 'having no need of chemists'; but the Church burnt Bruno and\nimprisoned Galileo. Science, too strong to be victimised again, may come\nbetween the two enemies of civilisation, the Bolshevik and the\nUltramontane; it is, I think, our best hope.\n\nI am conscious that I have spoken with too little sympathy in one or two\nof these essays about the Ritualist party. I was more afraid of it a few\nyears ago than I am now. The Oxford movement began as a late wave of the\nRomantic movement, with wistful eyes bent upon the past. But\nRomanticism, which dotes on ruins, shrinks from real restoration.\nMedievalism is attractive only when seen from a short distance. So the\nmovement is ceasing to be either medieval or Catholic or Anglican; it is\nbecoming definitely Latin. But a Latin Church in England which disowns\nthe Pope is an absurdity. Many of the shrewder High Churchmen are, as I\nhave said in this volume, throwing themselves into political agitation\nand intrigue, for which Catholics always have a great aptitude; but this\ninvolves them in another inconsistency. For Catholicism is essentially\nhierarchical and undemocratic, though it keeps a 'career open to the\ntalents.' The spirit of Catholicism breathes in the Third Canto of the\n'Paradiso,' where Dante asks the soul of a friend whom he finds in the\nlowest circle of Paradise, whether he does not desire to go higher. The\nfriend replies: 'Brother, the force of charity quiets our will, making\nus wish only for what we have and thirst for nothing more. If we\ndesired to be in a sublimer sphere, our desires would be discordant with\nthe will of Him who here allots us our diverse stations.... The manner\nin which we are ranged from step to step in this kingdom pleases the\nwhole kingdom, as it does the King who gives us the power to will as He\nwills.' Accordingly, these ecclesiastical votaries of democracy cut a\nstrange figure when they seek to legislate for the Church. The High\nChurch scheme (defeated the other day by a small majority) for drawing\nup a constitution for the Church, consisted in disfranchising the large\nmajority of the electorate and reserving the initiative and veto for the\nHouse of Lords (the Bishops). In fact, the constitution which our\nCatholic democrats would like best for the Church closely resembles that\nof Great Britain before the first Reform Bill. In the same way the\nritualistic clergy, while professing a superstitious reverence for the\nepiscopal office, make a point of flouting the authority of their own\nbishop. The movement, in my opinion, is beginning to break up, and Rome\nwill be the chief gainer. But many of its leaders have been among the\nglories of the Church of England, and I could never speak of them with\ndisrespect.\n\nCatholicism, whether Roman or Anglican, stands to lose heavily by the\ndecay of institutionalism as an article of faith. It is becoming\nimpossible for those who mix at all with their fellow-men to believe\nthat the grace of God is distributed denominationally. The Christian\nvirtues, so far as we can see, flower impartially in the souls of\nCatholic and Protestant, of Churchman and Schismatic, of Orthodox and\nHeretic. And the test, 'by their fruits ye shall know them,' cannot be\nopenly rejected by any Christian. But fanatical institutionalism has\nbeen the driving force of Catholicism as a power in the world, from the\nvery first. The Church has lived by its monopolies and conquered by its\nintolerance. The war has given a further impetus to the fall of this\nbelief, which, with its dogma, _Extra ecclesiam nulla salus_, was\ntottering before the crisis came.\n\nThe prospects of Christian theology are very difficult to estimate; and\nI am so convinced myself of the superiority of the Catholic theology\nbased on Neoplatonism, that I cannot view the matter with impartial\ndetachment. We all tend to predict the triumph of our own opinions. But\nmiracles must, I am convinced, be relegated to the sphere of pious\nopinion. It is not likely, perhaps, that the progress of science will\nincrease the difficulty of believing them; but it can never again be\npossible to make the truths of religion depend on physical portents\nhaving taken place as recorded. The Christian revelation can stand\nwithout them, and the rulers of the Church will soon have to recognise\nthat in very many minds it does stand without them.\n\nI have already indicated what I believe to be the essential parts of\nthat revelation. Whether it will be believed by a larger number of\npersons a hundred years hence than to-day depends, I suppose, on whether\nthe nation will be in a more healthy condition than it is now. The chief\nrival to Christianity is secularism; and this creed has some bitter\ndisappointments in store for its worshippers. I cannot help hoping that\nthe human race, having taken in succession every path except the right\none, may pay more attention to the narrow way that leadeth unto life. In\nmorals, the Church will undoubtedly have a hard battle to fight. The\nyounger generation has discarded all _tabus_, and in matters of sex we\nmust be prepared for a period of unbridled license. But such lawlessness\nbrings about its own cure by arousing disgust and shame; and the\ninstitution of marriage is far too deeply rooted to be in any danger\nfrom the revolution.\n\nI have, I suppose, made it clear that I do not consider myself specially\nfortunate in having been born in 1860, and that I look forward with\ngreat anxiety to the journey through life which my children will have to\nmake. But, after all, we judge our generation mainly by its surface\ncurrents. There may be in progress a storage of beneficent forces which\nwe cannot see. There are ages of sowing and ages of reaping: the\nbrilliant epochs may be those in which spiritual wealth is squandered,\nthe epochs of apparent decline may be those in which the race is\nrecuperating after an exhausting effort. To all appearance, man has\nstill a great part of his long lease before him, and there is no reason\nto suppose that the future will be less productive of moral and\nspiritual triumphs than the past. The source of all good is like an\ninexhaustible river; the Creator pours forth new treasures of goodness,\ntruth, and beauty for all who will love them and take them. 'Nothing\nthat truly _is_ can ever perish,' as Plotinus says; whatever has value\nin God's sight is safe for evermore. Our half-real world is the factory\nof souls, in which we are tried, as in a furnace. We are not to set our\nhopes upon it, but to learn such wisdom as it can teach us while we pass\nthrough it. I will therefore end these thoughts on our present\ndiscontents with two messages of courage and confidence, one from\nChaucer, the other from Blake.\n\n    That thee is sent, receyve in buxomnesse,\n    The wrastling for this worlde axeth a fall.\n    Her is non hoom, her nis but wildernesse:\n    Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, beste, out of thy stall!\n    Know thy contree, look up, thank God of all:\n    Weyve thy lust, and let thy gost thee lede;\n    And trouthe shall delivere, it is no drede.\n\nAnd this:--\n\n    Joy and woe are woven fine,\n    A clothing for the soul divine;\n    Under every grief and pine\n    Runs a joy with silken twine.\n    It is right it should be so;\n    Man was made for joy and woe;\n    And when this we rightly know\n    Safely through the world we go.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [1] _Times Literary Supplement_, July 18, 1918.\n\n     [2] Hearnshaw, _Democracy at the Crossroads_, p. 63.\n\n     [3] Miss M. Loane. Mr. Stephen Reynolds has said the same.\n\n     [4] Professor Hearnshaw quotes: 'Il y a opposition evidente\n     et irreductible entre les principes socialistes et les\n     principes democratiques. Il n'y a pas de conceptions\n     politiques qui soient separees par des abimes plus profonds\n     que la democratie et le socialisme' (Le Bon). 'Socialism\n     must be built on ideas and institutions totally different\n     from the ideas and institutions of democracy' (Levine). 'La\n     democratic tend a la conciliation des classes, tandis que le\n     socialisme organise la lutte de classe' (Lagardelle).\n\n     [5] A.D. Lewis, _Syndicalism and the General Strike_.\n\n     [6] _The Division of the Product of Industry_.\n\n     [7] _First and Last Things_ (pp. 148-9. Published in 1908).\n\n\n\n\nPATRIOTISM\n\n(1915)\n\n\nThe sentiment of patriotism has seemed to many to mark an arrest of\ndevelopment in the psychical expansion of the individual, a half-way\nhouse between mere self-centredness and full human sympathy. Some\nmoralists have condemned it as pure egoism, magnified and disguised.\n'Patriotism,' says Ruskin, 'is an absurd prejudice founded on an\nextended selfishness.' Mr. Grant Allen calls it 'a vulgar vice--the\nnational or collective form of the monopolist instinct.' Mr. Havelock\nEllis allows it to be 'a virtue--among barbarians.' For Herbert Spencer\nit is 'reflex egoism--extended selfishness.' These critics have made the\nvery common mistake of judging human emotions and sentiments by their\nroots instead of by their fruits. They have forgotten the Aristotelian\ncanon that the 'nature' of anything is its completed development (he\nphusis telos estin). The human self, as we know it, is a transitional\nform. It had a humble origin, and is capable of indefinite enhancement.\nUltimately, we are what we love and care for, and no limit has been set\nto what we may become without ceasing to be ourselves. The case is the\nsame with our love of country. No limit has been set to what our country\nmay come to mean for us, without ceasing to be our country. Marcus\nAurelius exhorted himself--'The poet says, Dear city of Cecrops; shall\nnot I pay, Dear city of God?' But the city of God in which he wished to\nbe was a city in which he would still live as 'a Roman and an Antonine.'\nThe citizen of heaven knew that it was his duty to 'hunt Sarmatians' on\nearth, though he was not obliged to imbrue his hands with 'Caesarism.'\n\nPatriotism has two roots, the love of clan and the love of home. In\nmigratory tribes the former alone counts; in settled communities\ndiversities of origin are often forgotten. But the love of home, as we\nknow it, is a gentler and more spiritual bond than clanship. The word\nhome is associated with all that makes life beautiful and sacred, with\ntender memories of joy and sorrow, and especially with the first eager\noutlook of the young mind upon a wonderful world. A man does not as a\nrule feel much sentiment about his London house, still less about his\noffice or factory. It is for the home of his childhood, or of his\nancestors, that a man will fight most readily, because he is bound to it\nby a spiritual and poetic tie. Expanding from this centre, the sentiment\nof patriotism embraces one's country as a whole.\n\nBoth forms of patriotism--the local and the racial, are frequently\nalloyed with absurd, unworthy or barbarous motives. The local patriot\nthinks that Peebles, and not Paris, is the place for pleasure, or asks\nwhether any good thing can come out of Nazareth. To the Chinaman all\naliens are 'outer barbarians' or 'foreign devils.' Admiration for\nourselves and our institutions is too often measured by our contempt and\ndislike for foreigners. Our own nation has a peculiarly bad record in\nthis respect. In the reign of James I the Spanish ambassador was\nfrequently insulted by the London crowd, as was the Russian ambassador\nin 1662; not, apparently, because we had a burning grievance against\neither of those nations, but because Spaniards and Russians are very\nunlike Englishmen. That at least is the opinion of the sagacious Pepys\non the later of these incidents. 'Lord! to see the absurd nature of\nEnglishmen, that cannot forbear laughing and jeering at anything that\nlooks strange.' Defoe says that the English are 'the most churlish\npeople alive' to foreigners, with the result that 'all men think an\nEnglishman the devil.' In the 17th and 18th centuries Scotland seems to\nhave ranked as a foreign country, and the presence of Scots in London\nwas much resented. Cleveland thought it witty to write:--\n\n    Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom;\n    Not forced him wander, but confined him home.\n\nAnd we all remember Dr. Johnson's gibes.\n\nBritish patriotic arrogance culminated in the 18th and in the first half\nof the 19th century; in Lord Palmerston it found a champion at the head\nof the government. Goldsmith describes the bearing of the Englishman of\nhis day:--\n\n    Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,\n    I see the lords of human kind pass by.\n\nMichelet found in England 'human pride personified in a people,' at a\ntime when the characteristic of Germany was 'a profound impersonality.'\nIt may be doubted whether even the arrogant brutality of the modern\nPrussian is more offensive to foreigners than was the calm and haughty\nassumption of superiority by our countrymen at this time. Our\ngrandfathers and great-grandfathers were quite of Milton's opinion,\nthat, when the Almighty wishes something unusually great and difficult\nto be done, He entrusts it to His Englishmen. This unamiable\ncharacteristic was probably much more the result of insular ignorance\nthan of a deep-seated pride. 'A generation or two ago,' said Mr. Asquith\nlately, 'patriotism was largely fed and fostered upon reciprocal\nignorance and contempt.' The Englishman seriously believed that the\nFrench subsisted mainly upon frogs, while the Frenchman was equally\nconvinced that the sale of wives at Smithfield was one of our national\ninstitutions. This fruitful source of international misunderstanding has\nbecome less dangerous since the facilities of foreign travel have been\nincreased. But in the relations of Europe with alien and independent\ncivilisations, such as that of China, we still see brutal arrogance and\nvulgar ignorance producing their natural results.\n\nAnother cause of perverted patriotism is the inborn pugnacity of the\n_bete humaine_. Our species is the most cruel and destructive of all\nthat inhabit this planet. If the lower animals, as we call them, were\nable to formulate a religion, they might differ greatly as to the shape\nof the beneficent Creator, but they would nearly all agree that the\ndevil must be very like a big white man. Mr. McDougall[8] has lately\nraised the question whether civilised man is less pugnacious than the\nsavage; and he answers it in the negative. The Europeans, he thinks, are\namong the most combative of the human race. We are not allowed to knock\neach other on the head during peace; but our civilisation is based on\ncut-throat competition; our favourite games are mimic battles, which I\nsuppose effect for us a 'purgation of the emotions' similar to that\nwhich Aristotle attributed to witnessing the performance of a tragedy:\nand, when the fit seizes us, we are ready to engage in wars which cannot\nfail to be disastrous to both combatants. Mr. McDougall does not regret\nthis disposition, irrational though it is. He thinks that it tends to\nthe survival of the fittest, and that, if we substitute emulation for\npugnacity, which on other grounds might seem an unmixed advantage, we\nshall have to call in the science of eugenics to save us from becoming\nas sheeplike as the Chinese. There is, however, another side to this\nquestion, as we shall see presently.\n\nAnother instinct which has supplied fuel to patriotism of the baser sort\nis that of acquisitiveness. This tendency, without which even the most\nrudimentary civilisation would be impossible, began when the female of\nthe species, instead of carrying her baby on her back and following the\nmale to his hunting-grounds, made some sort of a lair for herself and\nher family, where primitive implements and stores of food could be kept.\nThere are still tribes in Brazil which have not reached this first step\ntowards humanisation. But the instinct of hoarding, like all other\ninstincts, tends to become hypertrophied and perverted; and with the\ninstitution of private property comes another institution--that of\nplunder and brigandage. In private life, no motive of action is at\npresent so powerful and so persistent as acquisitiveness, which, unlike\nmost other desires, knows no satiety. The average man is rich enough\nwhen he has a little more than he has got, and not till then. The\nacquisition and possession of land satisfies this desire in a high\ndegree, since land is a visible and indestructible form of property.\nConsequently, as soon as the instincts of the individual are transferred\nto the group, territorial aggrandisement becomes a main preoccupation of\nthe state. This desire was the chief cause of wars, while kings and\nnobles regarded the territories over which they ruled as their private\nestates. Wherever despotic or feudal conditions survive, such ideas are\nlikely still to be found, and to cause dangers to other states. The\ngreatest ambition of a modern emperor is still to be commemorated as a\n'Mehrer des Reichs.'\n\nCapitalism, by separating the idea of property from any necessary\nconnection with landed estate, and democracy, by denying the whole\ntheory on which dynastic wars of conquest are based, have both\ncontributed to check this, perhaps the worst kind of war. It would,\nhowever, be a great error to suppose that the instinct of\nacquisitiveness, in its old and barbarous form, has lost its hold upon\neven the most civilised nations. When an old-fashioned brigand appears,\nand puts himself at the head of his nation, he becomes at once a popular\nhero. By any rational standard of morality, few greater scoundrels have\nlived than Frederick the Great and Napoleon I. But they are still names\nto conjure with. Both were men of singularly lucid intellect and\nentirely medieval ambitions. Their great achievement was to show how\nunder modern conditions aggressive war may be carried on without much\nloss (except in human life) to the aggressor. They tore up all the\nconventions which regulated the conduct of warfare, and reduced it to\nsheer brigandage and terrorism. And now, after a hundred years, we see\nthese methods deliberately revived by the greatest military power in the\nworld, and applied with the same ruthlessness and with an added pedantry\nwhich makes them more inhuman. The perpetrators of the crime calculated\nquite correctly that they need fear no reluctance on the part of the\nnation, no qualms of conscience, no compassionate shrinking, no remorse.\nIt must, indeed, be a bad cause that cannot count on the support of the\nlarge majority of the people at the _beginning_ of a war. Pugnacity,\ngreed, mere excitement, the contagion of a crowd, will fill the streets\nof almost any capital with a shouting and jubilant mob on the day after\na war has been declared.\n\nAnd yet the motives which we have enumerated are plainly atavistic and\npathological. They belong to a mental condition which would conduct an\nindividual to the prison or the gallows. We do not argue seriously\nwhether the career of the highwayman or burglar is legitimate and\ndesirable; and it is impossible to maintain that what is disgraceful for\nthe individual is creditable for the state. And apart from the\nconsideration that predatory patriotism deforms its own idol and makes\nit hateful in the eyes of the world, subsequent history has fully\nconfirmed the moral instinct of the ancient Greeks, that national\ninsolence or injustice (hybrist) brings its own severe punishment. The\nimaginary dialogue which Thucydides puts into the mouth of the Athenian\nand Melian envoys, and the debate in the Athenian Assembly about the\npunishment of revolted Mitylene, are intended to prepare the reader for\nthe tragic fate of the Sicilian expedition. The same writer describes\nthe break-up of all social morality during the civil war in words which\nseem to herald the destruction not only of Athens but of Greek freedom.\nMachiavelli's 'Prince' shows how history can repeat itself, reiterating\nits lesson that a nation which gives itself to immoral aggrandisement is\nfar on the road to disintegration. Seneca's rebuke to his slave-holding\ncountrymen, 'Can you complain that you have been robbed of the liberty\nwhich you have yourselves abolished in your own homes?' applies equally\nto nations which have enslaved or exploited the inhabitants of subject\nlands. If the Roman Empire had a long and glorious life, it was because\nits methods were liberal, by the standard of ancient times. In so far as\nRome abused her power, she suffered the doom of all tyrants.\n\nThe illusions of imperialism have been made clearer than ever by the\ncourse of modern history. Attempts to destroy a nationality by\noverthrowing its government, proscribing its language, and maltreating\nits citizens, are never successful. The experiment has been tried with\ngreat thoroughness in Poland; and the Poles are now more of a nation\nthan they were under the oppressive feudal system which existed before\nthe partitions. Our own empire would be a ludicrous failure if it were\nany part of our ambition to Anglicise other races. The only English\nparts of the empire were waste lands which we have peopled with our own\nemigrants. We hauled down the French flag in Canada, with the result\nthat Eastern Canada is now the only flourishing French colony, and the\nonly part of the world where the French race increases rapidly. We have\nhelped the Dutch to multiply with almost equal rapidity in South Africa.\nWe have added several millions to the native population of Egypt, and\nover a hundred millions to the population of India. Similarly, the\nAmericans have made Cuba for the first time a really Spanish island, by\ndriving out its incompetent Spanish governors and so attracting\nimmigrants from Spain. On the whole, in imperialism nothing fails like\nsuccess. If the conqueror oppresses his subjects, they will become\nfanatical patriots, and sooner or later have their revenge; if he treats\nthem well, and 'governs them for their good,' they will multiply faster\nthan their rulers, till they claim their independence. The Englishman\nnow says, 'I am quite content to have it so'; but that is not the old\nimperialism.\n\nThe notion that frequent war is a healthy tonic for a nation is scarcely\ntenable. Its dysgenic effect, by eliminating the strongest and\nhealthiest of the population, while leaving the weaklings at home to be\nthe fathers of the next generation, is no new discovery. It has been\nsupported by a succession of men, such as Tenon, Dufau, Foissac, de\nLapouge, and Richet in France; Tiedemann and Seeck in Germany; Guerrini\nin Italy; Kellogg and Starr Jordan in America. The case is indeed\noverwhelming. The lives destroyed in war are nearly all males, thus\ndisturbing the sex equilibrium of the population; they are in the prime\nof life, at the age of greatest fecundity; and they are picked from a\nlist out of which from 20 to 30 per cent. have been rejected for\nphysical unfitness. It seems to be proved that the children born in\nFrance during the Napoleonic wars were poor and undersized--30\nmillimetres below the normal height. War combined with religious\ncelibacy to ruin Spain. 'Castile makes men and wastes them,' said a\nSpanish writer. 'This sublime and terrible phrase sums up the whole of\nSpanish history.' Schiller was right; 'Immer der Krieg verschlingt die\nbesten.' We in England have suffered from this drain in the past; we\nshall suffer much more in the next generation.\n\n    We have fed our sea for a thousand years,\n      And she calls us, still unfed,\n    Though there's never a wave of all her waves\n      But marks our English dead.\n\n    We have strawed our best to the weed's unrest,\n      To the shark and the sheering gull,\n    If blood be the price of admiralty,\n      Lord God, we ha' paid in full.\n\nAggressive patriotism is thus condemned by common sense and the verdict\nof history no less than by morality. We are entitled to say to the\nmilitarists what Socrates said to Polus:\n\n     This doctrine of yours has now been examined and found\n     wanting. And this doctrine alone has stood the test--that we\n     ought to be more afraid of doing than of suffering wrong;\n     and that the prime business of every man [and nation] is not\n     to seem good, but to be good, in all private and public\n     dealings.\n\nIf the nations would render something more than lip-service to this\nprinciple, the abolition of war would be within sight; for, as Ruskin\nsays, echoing the judgment of the Epistle of St. James, 'The first\nreason for all wars, and for the necessity of national defences, is that\nthe majority of persons, high and low, in all European countries, are\nthieves.' But it must be remembered that, in spite of the proverb, it\ntakes in reality only one to make a quarrel. It is useless for the sheep\nto pass resolutions in favour of vegetarianism, while the wolf remains\nof a different opinion.\n\nOur own conversion to pacificism, though sincere, is somewhat recent.\nOur literature does not reflect it. Bacon is frankly militarist:\n\n     Above all, for empire and greatness, it importeth most, that\n     a nation do profess arms, as their principal honour, study,\n     and occupation. For the things which we formerly have spoken\n     of are but habilitations towards arms; and what is\n     habitation without intention and act?... It is so plain that\n     a man profiteth in that he most intendeth, that it needeth\n     not to be stood upon. It is enough to point at it; that no\n     nation, which doth not directly profess arms, may look to\n     have greatness fall into their mouths.\n\nA state, therefore, 'ought to have those laws or customs, which may\nreach forth unto them just occasions of war.' Shakespeare's 'Henry V'\nhas been not unreasonably recommended by the Germans as 'good\nwar-reading.' It would be easy to compile a _catena_ of bellicose maxims\nfrom our literature, reaching down to the end of the 19th century. The\nchange is perhaps due less to progress in morality than to that\npolitical good sense which has again and again steered our ship through\ndangerous rocks. But there has been some real advance, in all civilised\ncountries. We do not find that men talked about the 'bankruptcy of\nChristianity' during the Napoleonic campaigns. Even the Germans think it\nnecessary to tell each other that it was Belgium who began this war.\n\nBut, though pugnacity and acquisitiveness have been the real foundation\nof much miscalled patriotism, better motives are generally mingled with\nthese primitive instincts. It is the subtle blend of noble and ignoble\nsentiment which makes patriotism such a difficult problem for the\nmoralist. The patriot nearly always believes, or thinks he believes,\nthat he desires the greatness of his country because his country stands\nfor something intrinsically great and valuable. Where this conviction is\nabsent we cannot speak of patriotism, but only of the cohesion of a\nwolf-pack. The Greeks, who at last perished because they could not\ncombine, had nevertheless a consciousness that they were the trustees\nof civilisation against barbarism; and in their day of triumph over the\nPersians they were filled, for a time, with an almost Jewish awe in\npresence of the righteous judgment of God. The 'Persae' of AEschylus is\none of the noblest of patriotic poems. The Romans, a harder and coarser\nrace, had their ideal of _virtus_ and _gravitas_, which included\nsimplicity of life, dignity and self-restraint, honesty and industry,\nand devotion to the state. They rightly felt that these qualities\nconstituted a vocation to empire. There was much harshness and injustice\nin Roman imperialism; but what nobler epitaph could even the British\nempire desire than the tribute of Claudian, when the weary Titan was at\nlast stricken and dying:\n\n    Haec est, in gremium victos quae sola recepit,\n    humanumque genus communi nomine fovit\n    matris non dominae ritu, civesque vocavit\n    quos domuit, nexuque pio longinqua revinxit?\n\nJewish patriotism was of a different kind. A federation of fierce\nBedouin tribes, encamped amid hostile populations, and set in the\ncockpit of rival empires against which it was impossible to stand, the\nIsraelites were hammered by misfortune into the most indestructible of\nall organisms, a theocracy. Their religion was to them what, in a minor\ndegree, Roman Catholicism has been to Ireland and Poland, a consecration\nof patriotic faith and hope. Westphal says the Jews failed because they\nhated foreigners more than they loved God. They have had good reason to\nhate foreigners. But undoubtedly the effect of their hatred has been\nthat the great gifts which their nation had to give to humanity have\ncome through other hands, and so have evoked no gratitude. In the first\ncentury of our era they were called to an almost superhuman abnegation\nof their inveterate nationalism, and they could not rise to it. As\nalmost every other nation would have done, they chose the lower\npatriotism instead of the higher; and it was against their will that the\nreligion of civilised humanity grew out of Hebrew soil. But they gained\nthis by their choice, tragic though it was, that they have stood by the\ngraves of all the empires that oppressed them, and have preserved their\nracial integrity and traditions in the most adverse circumstances. The\nhistory of the Jews also shows that oppression and persecution are far\nmore efficacious in binding a nation together than community of interest\nand national prosperity. Increase of wealth divides rather than unites a\npeople; but suffering shared in common binds it together with hoops of\nsteel.\n\nThe Jews were the only race whose spiritual independence was not crushed\nby the Roman steam-roller. It would be unfair to say that Rome destroyed\nnations; for her subjects in the West were barbarous tribes, and in the\nEast she displaced monarchies no less alien to their subjects than her\nown rule. But she prevented the growth of nationalities, as it is to be\nfeared we have done in India; and the absence of sturdy independence in\nthe countries round the Mediterranean, especially in the Greek-speaking\nprovinces, made the final downfall inevitable. The lesson has its\nwarning for modern theorists who wish to obliterate the sentiment of\nnationality, the revival of which, after a long eclipse, has been one of\nthe achievements of modern civilisation. For it was not till long after\nthe destruction of the Western Roman Empire that nationality began to\nassume its present importance in Europe.\n\nThe transition from medieval to modern history is most strongly marked\nby the emergence of this principle, with all that it involves. At the\nend of the Middle Ages Europe was at last compelled to admit that the\ngrand idea of an universal state and an universal church had definitely\nbroken down. Hitherto it had been assumed that behind all national\ndisputes lay a _ius gentium_ by which all were bound, and that behind\nall religious questions lay the authority of the Roman Catholic Church,\nfrom which there was no appeal. The modern period which certainly does\nnot represent the last word of civilisation, has witnessed the\nabandonment of these ideas. The change took place gradually. France\nbecame a nation when the English raids ceased in the middle of the 15th\ncentury. Spain achieved unity a generation later by the union of Castile\nand Aragon and the expulsion of the Moors from the peninsula. Holland\nfound herself in the heroic struggle against Spain in the 16th century.\nBut the practice of conducting wars by hiring foreign mercenaries, a\nsure sign that the nationalist spirit is weak, continued till much\nlater. And the dynastic principle, which is the very negation of\nnationalism, actually culminated in the 18th century; and this is the\ntrue explanation of the feeble resistance which Europe offered to the\nFrench revolutionary armies, until Napoleon stirred up the dormant\nspirit of nationalism in the peoples whom he plundered. 'In the old\nEuropean system,' says Lord Acton, 'the rights of nationalities were\nneither recognised by governments nor asserted by the people. The\ninterests of the reigning families, not those of the nations, regulated\nthe frontiers; and the administration was conducted generally without\nany reference to popular desires.' Marriage or conquest might unite the\nmost diverse nations under one sovereign, such as Charles V.\n\nWhile such ideas prevailed, the suppression of a nation did not seem\nhateful; the partition of Poland evoked few protests at the time, though\nperhaps few acts of injustice have recoiled with greater force on the\nheads of their perpetrators than this is likely to do. Poles have been\nand are among the bitterest enemies of autocracy, and the strongest\nadvocates of republicanism and racialism, in all parts of the world. The\nFrench Revolution opened a new era for nationalism, both directly and\nindirectly. The deposition of the Bourbons was a national act which\nmight be a precedent for other oppressed peoples. And when the\nRevolution itself began to trample on the rights of other nations, an\nuprising took place, first in Spain and then in Prussia, which proved\ntoo strong for the tyrant. The apostasy of France from her own ideals of\nliberty proved the futility of mere doctrines, like those of Rousseau,\nand compelled the peoples to arm themselves and win their freedom by the\nsword. The national militarism of Prussia was the direct consequence of\nher humiliation at Jena and Auerstaedt, and of the harsh terms imposed\nupon her at Tilsit. It is true that the Congress of Vienna attempted to\nrevive the old dynastic system. But for the steady opposition of\nEngland, the clique of despots might have reimposed the old yoke upon\ntheir subjects. The settlement of 1815 also left the entire centre of\nEurope in a state of chaos; and it was only by slow degrees that Italy\nand Germany attained national unity. Poland, the Austrian Empire, and\nthe Balkan States still remain in a condition to trouble the peace of\nthe world. In Austria-Hungary the clash of the dynastic and the\nnationalist ideas is strident; and every citizen of that empire has to\nchoose between a wider and a narrower allegiance.\n\nEuropeans are, in fact, far from having made up their minds as to what\nis the organic whole towards which patriotic sentiment ought to be\ndirected. Socialism agrees with despotism in saying, 'It is the\npolitical aggregate, the state,' however much they may differ as to how\nthe state should be administered. For this reason militarism and\nstate-socialism might at any time come to terms. They are at one in\nexaggerating the 'organic' unity of a political or geographical\n_enclave_; and they are at one in depreciating the value of individual\nliberty. Loyalty to 'the state' instead of to 'king and country' is not\nan easy or a natural emotion. The state is a bloodless abstraction,\nwhich as a rule only materialises as a drill-sergeant or a\ntax-collector. Enthusiasm for it, and not only for what can be got out\nof it, does not extend much beyond the Fabian Society. Caesarism has the\ngreat advantage of a visible head, as well as of its appeal to very old\nand strong thought-habits; and accordingly, in any national crisis,\nloyalty to the War-lord is likely to show unexpected strength, and\ndoctrinaire socialism unexpected weakness.\n\nBut devotion to the head of the state in his representative capacity is\na different thing from the old feudal loyalty. It is far more\nimpersonal; the ruler, whether an individual or a council, is reverenced\nas a non-human and non-moral embodiment of the national power, a sort of\nPlatonic idea of coercive authority. This kind of loyalty may very\neasily be carried too far. In reality, we are members of a great many\n'social organisms,' each of which has indefeasible claims upon us. Our\nfamily, our circle of acquaintance, our business or profession, our\nchurch, our country, the comity of civilised nations, humanity at large,\nare all social organisms; and some of the chief problems of ethics are\nconcerned with the adjustment of their conflicting claims. To make any\none of these absolute is destructive of morality. But militarism and\nsocialism deliberately make the state absolute. In internal affairs this\nmay lead to the ruthless oppression of individuals or whole classes; in\nexternal relations it produces wars waged with 'methods of barbarism.'\nThe whole idea of the state as an organism, which has been emphasised by\nsocial reformers as a theoretical refutation of selfish individualism,\nrests on the abuse of a metaphor. The bond between the dwellers in the\nsame political area is far less close than that between the organs of a\nliving body. Every man has a life of his own, and some purely personal\nrights; he has, moreover, moral links with other human associations,\noutside his own country, and important moral duties towards them. No one\nwho reflects on the solidarity of interests among capitalists, among\nhand-workers, or, in a different way, among scholars and artists, all\nover the world, can fail to see that the apotheosis of the state,\nwhether in the interest of war or of revolution, is an anachronism and\nan absurdity.\n\nA very different basis for patriotic sentiment is furnished by the\nscientific or pseudo-scientific theories about race, which have become\nvery popular in our time. When the history of ideas in the 20th century\ncomes to be written, it is certain that among the causes of this great\nwar will be named the belief of the Germans in the superiority of their\nown race, based on certain historical and ethnological theories which\nhave acted like a heady wine in stimulating the spirit of aggression\namong them. The theory, stated briefly, is that the shores of the Baltic\nare the home of the finest human type that has yet existed, a type\ndistinguished by blond hair, great physical strength, unequalled mental\nvigour and ability, superior morality, and an innate aptitude for\ngoverning and improving inferior races. Unfortunately for the world,\nthis noble stock cannot flourish for very long in climates unlike its\nown; but from the earliest historical times it has 'swarmed'\nperiodically, subjugating the feebler peoples of the south, and\nelevating them for a time above the level which they were naturally\nfitted to reach. Wherever we find marked energy and nobleness of\ncharacter, we may suspect Aryan blood; and history will usually support\nour surmise. Among the great men who were certainly or probably Germans\nwere Agamemnon, Julius Caesar, the Founder of Christianity, Dante, and\nShakespeare. The blond Nordic giant is fulfilling his mission by\nconquering and imposing his culture upon other races. They ought to be\ngrateful to him for the service, especially as it has a sacrificial\naspect, the lower types having, at least in their own climates, greater\npower of survival.\n\nThis fantastic theory has been defended in a large number of German\nbooks, of which the 'Foundations of the Nineteenth Century,' by the\nrenegade Englishman Houston Chamberlain, is the most widely known. The\nobjections to it are numerous. It is notorious that until the invention\nof gunpowder the settled and civilised peoples of Europe were in\nfrequent danger from bands of hardier mountaineers, forest-dwellers, or\npastoral nomads, who generally came from the north. But the formidable\nfighting powers of these marauders were no proof of intrinsic\nsuperiority. In fact, the most successful of these conquerors, if\nsuccess is measured by the amount of territory overrun and subdued, were\nnot the 'great blond beasts' of Nietzsche, but yellow monsters with\nblack hair, the Huns and Tartars.[9] The causes of Tartar ascendancy had\nnot the remotest connection with any moral or intellectual qualities\nwhich we can be expected to admire. Nor can the Nordic race, well\nendowed by nature as it undoubtedly is, prove such a superiority as this\ntheory claims for it. Some of the largest brains yet measured have been\nthose of Japanese; and the Jews have probably a higher average of\nability than the Teutons. Again, the Germans are not descended from a\npure Nordic stock. The Northern type can be best studied in Scandinavia,\nwhere the people share with the Irish the distinction of being the\nhandsomest race in the world. The German is a mixture of various\nanatomical types, including, in some parts, distinct traces of Mongolian\nblood, which indicate that the raiding Huns meddled, according to their\ncustom, with the German women, and bequeathed to a section of the nation\nthe Turanian cheek-bones, as well as certain moral characteristics.\nLastly, the German race has never shown much aptitude for governing and\nassimilating other peoples. The French, by virtue of their greater\nsympathy, are far more successful.\n\nThe French have their own form of this pseudo-science in their doctrine\nof the persistence of national characteristics. Each nation may be\nsummed up in a formula: England, for example, is 'the country of will.'\nA few instances may, no doubt, be quoted in support of this theory.\nJulius Caesar said: 'Duas res plerasque Gallia industriosissime\nprosequitur, rem militarem et argute loqui'; and these are still the\ncharacteristics of our gallant allies. And Madame de Stael may be\nthought to have hit off the German character very cleverly about the\ntime when Bismarck first saw the light. 'The Germans are vigorously\nsubmissive. They employ philosophical reasonings to explain what is the\nleast philosophic thing in the world, respect for force and the fear\nwhich transforms that respect into admiration.' But the fact remains\nthat the characters of nations frequently change, or rather that what we\ncall national character is usually only the policy of the governing\nclass, forced upon it by circumstances, or the manner of living which\nclimate, geographical position, and other external causes have made\nnecessary for the inhabitants of a country.\n\nTo found patriotism on homogeneity of race is no wiser than to bound it\nby frontier lines. As the Abbe Noel has lately written about his own\ncountry, Belgium,\n\n     the race is not the nation. The nation is not a\n     physiological fact; it is a moral fact. What constitutes a\n     nation is the community of sentiments and ideals which\n     results from a common history and education. The variations\n     of the cephalic index are here of no great importance. The\n     essential factor of the national consciousness resides in a\n     certain common mode of conceiving the conditions of the\n     social life.\n\nBelgium, the Abbe maintains, has found this national consciousness amid\nher sufferings; there are no longer any distinctions between\nFrench-speaking Belgians and Walloons or Flemings. This is in truth the\nreal base of patriotism. It is the basis of our own love for our\ncountry. What Britain stands for is what Britain is. We have long known\nin our hearts what Britain stands for; but we have now been driven to\nsearch our thoughts and make our ideals explicit to ourselves and\nothers. The Englishman has become a philosopher _malgre lui_, 'Whatever\nthe world thinks,' writes Bishop Berkeley. 'he who hath not much\nmeditated upon God, the human soul, and the _summum bonum_, may possibly\nmake a thriving earthworm, but will most indubitably make a sorry\npatriot and a sorry statesman.' These words, which were quoted by Mr.\nArthur Balfour a few years ago, may seem to make a large demand on the\naverage citizen; but in our quiet way we have all been meditating on\nthese things since last August, and we know pretty well what our _summum\nbonum_ is for our country. We believe in chivalry and fair play and\nkindliness--these things first and foremost; and we believe, if not\nexactly in democracy, yet in a government under which a man may think\nand speak the thing he wills. We do not believe in war, and we do not\nbelieve in bullying. We do not flatter ourselves that we are the\nsupermen; but we are convinced that the ideas which we stand for, and\nwhich we have on the whole tried to carry out, are essential to the\npeaceful progress and happiness of humanity; and for these ideas we have\ndrawn the sword. The great words of Abraham Lincoln have been on the\nlips of many and in the hearts of all since the beginning of the great\ncontest: 'With malice towards none; with charity for all: with firmness\nin the right as God gives us to see the right--let us strive on to\nfinish the work we are in.'\n\nPatriotism thus spiritualised and moralised is the true patriotism.\nWhen the emotion is once set in its right relations to the whole of\nhuman life and to all that makes human life worth living, it cannot\nbecome an immoral obsession. It is certain to become an immoral\nobsession if it is isolated and made absolute. We have seen the\nappalling perversion--the methodical diabolism--which this obsession has\nproduced in Germany. It has startled us because we thought that the\ncivilised world had got beyond such insanity; but it is of course no new\nthing. Machiavelli said, 'I prefer my country to the salvation of my\nsoul'--a sentiment which sounds noble but is not; it has only a\nsuperficial resemblance to St. Paul's willingness to be 'accursed' for\nthe sake of his countrymen. Devil-worship remains what it was, even when\nthe idol is draped in the national flag. This obsession may be in part a\nsurvival from savage conditions, when all was at stake in every feud;\nbut chiefly it is an example of the idealising and universalising power\nof the imagination, which turns every unchecked passion into a\nmonomania. The only remedy is, as Lowell's Hosea Biglow reminds us, to\nbear in mind that\n\n     our true country is that ideal realm which we represent to\n     ourselves under the names of religion, duty, and the like.\n     Our terrestrial organisations are but far-off approaches to\n     so fair a model; and all they are verily traitors who resist\n     not any attempt to divert them from this their original\n     intendment. Our true country is bounded on the north and the\n     south, on the east and west, by Justice, and when she\n     oversteps that invisible boundary-line by so much as a\n     hair's breadth, she ceases to be our mother, and chooses\n     rather to be looked upon _quasi noverca_.\n\nSo Socrates said that the wise man will be a citizen of his true city,\nof which the type is laid up in heaven, and only conditionally of his\nearthly country.\n\nThe obsession of patriotism is not the only evil which we have to\nconsider. We may err by defect as well as by excess. Herbert Spencer\nspeaks of an 'anti-patriotic bias'; and it can hardly be disputed that\nmany Englishmen who pride themselves on their lofty morality are\nsuffering from this mental twist. The malady seems to belong to the\nAnglo-Saxon constitution, for it is rarely encountered in other\ncountries, while we had a noisy pro-Napoleonic faction a hundred years\nago, and the Americans had their 'Copperheads' in the Northern States\nduring the civil war. In our own day, every enemy of England, from the\nmad Mullah to the mad Kaiser, has had his advocates at home; and the\nchampions of Boer and Boxer, of Afridi and Afrikander, of the Mahdi and\nthe Matabele, have been usually the same persons. The English, it would\nappear, differ from other misguided rascals in never being right even by\naccident. But the idiosyncrasy of a few persons is far less important\nthan the comparative insensibility of whole classes to the patriotic\nappeal, except when war is actually raging. This is not specially\ncharacteristic of our own country. The German Emperor has complained of\nhis Social Democrats as 'people without a fatherland'; and the cry 'A\nbas la patrie' has been heard in France.\n\nIt is usual to explain this attitude by the fact that the manual workers\n'have no stake in the country,' and might not find their condition\naltered for the worse by subjection to a foreign power. A few of our\nworking-men have given colour to this charge by exclaiming petulantly\nthat they could not be worse off under the Germans; but in this they\nhave done themselves and their class less than justice. The\nanti-militarism and cosmopolitanism of the masses in every country is a\nprofoundly interesting fact, a problem which demands no superficial\ninvestigation. It is one result of that emancipation from traditional\nideas, which makes the most important difference between the upper and\nmiddle classes on the one side and the lower on the other. We lament\nthat the working-man takes but little interest in Christianity, and rack\nour brains to discover what we have done to discredit our religion in\nhis eyes. The truth is that Christianity, as a dogmatic and\necclesiastical system, is unintelligible without a very considerable\nknowledge of the conditions under which it took shape. But what are the\nancient Hebrews, and the Greeks and Romans, to the working-man? He is\nsimply cut off from the means of reading intelligently any book of the\nBible, or of understanding how the institution called the Catholic\nChurch, and its offshoots, came to exist. As our staple education\nbecomes more 'modern' and less literary, the custodians of organised\nreligion will find their difficulties increasing. But the same is true\nabout patriotism. Love of country means pride in the past and ambition\nfor the future. Those who live only in the present are incapable of it.\nBut our working-man knows next to nothing about the past history of\nEngland; he has scarcely heard of our great men, and has read few of our\ngreat books. It is not surprising that the appeal to patriotism leaves\nhim cold. This is an evil that has its proper remedy. There is no reason\nwhy a sane and elevated love of country should not be stimulated by\nappropriate teaching in our schools. In America this is done--rather\nhysterically; and in Germany--rather brutally. The Jews have always made\ntheir national history a large part of their education, and even of\ntheir religion. Nothing has helped them more to retain their\nself-consciousness as a nation. Ignorance of the past and indifference\nto the future usually go together. Those who most value our historical\nheritage will be most desirous to transmit it unimpaired.\n\nBut the absence of traditional ideas is by no means an unmixed evil. The\nworking-man sees more clearly than the majority of educated persons the\nabsurdity of international hatred and jealousy. He is conscious of\ngreater solidarity with his own class in other European countries than\nwith the wealthier class in his own; and as he approaches the whole\nquestion without prejudice, he cannot fail to realise how large a part\nof the product of labour is diverted from useful purposes by modern\nmilitarism. International rivalry is in his eyes one of the most serious\nobstacles to the abolition of want and misery. Tolstoy hardly\nexaggerates when he says: 'Patriotism to the peoples represents only a\nfrightful future; the fraternity of nations seems an ideal more and more\naccessible to humanity, and one which humanity desires.' Military glory\nhas very little attraction for the working-man. His humanitarian\ninstincts appear to be actually stronger than those of the sheltered\nclasses. To take life in any circumstances seems to him a shocking\nthing; and the harsh procedure of martial law and military custom is\nabhorrent to him. He sees no advantage and no credit in territorial\naggrandisement, which he suspects to be prompted mainly by the desire to\nmake money unjustly. He is therefore a convinced pacificist; though his\ndoctrine of human brotherhood breaks down ignominiously when he finds\nhis economic position threatened by the competition of cheap foreign\nlabour. If an armed struggle ever takes place between the nations of\nEurope (or their colonists) and the yellow races, it will be a\nworking-man's war. But on the whole, the best hope of getting rid of\nmilitarism may lie in the growing power of the working class. The poor,\nbeing intensely gregarious and very susceptible to all collective\nemotions, are still liable to fits of warlike excitement. But their real\nminds are at present set against an aggressive foreign policy, without\nbeing shut against the appeals of a higher patriotism.\n\nAnd yet the irritation which is felt against preachers of the\nbrotherhood of man is not without justification. Some persons who\ncondemn patriotism are simply lacking in public spirit, or their loyalty\nis monopolised by some fad or 'cause,' which is a poor substitute for\nlove of country. The man who has no prejudices in favour of his own\nfamily and his own country is generally an unamiable creature. So we\nneed not condemn Moliere for saying, 'L'ami du genre humain n'est pas du\ntout mon fait,' nor Brunetiere for declaring that 'Ni la nature ni\nl'histoire n'ont en effet voulu que les hommes fussent tous freres.' But\nFrench Neo-catholicism, a bourgeois movement directed against all the\n'ideas of 1789,' seems to have adopted the most ferocious kind of\nchauvinism. M. Paul Bourget wrote the other day in the _Echo de Paris_,\n'This war must be the first of many, since we cannot exterminate\nsixty-five million Germans in a single campaign!' The women and children\ntoo! This is not the way to revive the religion of Christ in France.\n\nThe practical question for the future is whether there is any prospect\nof returning, under more favourable auspices, to the unrealised ideal\nof the Middle Ages--an agreement among the nations of Europe to live\namicably under one system of international law and right, binding upon\nall, and with the consciousness of an intellectual and spiritual unity\ndeeper than political divisions. 'The nations are the citizens of\nhumanity,' said Mazzini; and so they ought to be. Some of the omens are\nfavourable. Militarism has dug its own grave. The great powers increased\ntheir armaments till the burden became insupportable, and have now\nrushed into bankruptcy in the hope of shaking it off. In prehistoric\ntimes the lords of creation were certain gigantic lizards, protected by\nmassive armour-plates which could only be carried by a creature thirty\nto sixty feet long. Then they died, when neither earth, air, nor water\ncould support them any longer. Such must be the end of the European\nnations, unless they learn wisdom. The lesson will be brought home to\nthem by Transatlantic competition. The United States of America had\nalready, before this war, an initial advantage over the disunited states\nof Europe, amounting to at least 10 per cent. on every contract; after\nthe war this advantage will be doubled. It remains to be seen whether\nthe next generation will honour the debts which we are piling up.\nDisraeli used to complain of what he called 'Dutch finance,' which\nconsists in 'mortgaging the industry of the future to protect property\nin the present.' Pitt paid for the great war of a hundred years ago in\nthis manner; after a century we are still groaning under the burden of\nhis loans. We may hear more of the iniquity of 'Dutch finance' when the\ndemocracies of the next generation have a chance of repudiating\nobligations which, as they will say, they did not contract. However that\nmay be, international rivalry is plainly very bad business; and there\nare great possibilities in the Hague Tribunal, if, and only if, the\nsignatories to the conference bind themselves to use force against a\nrecalcitrant member. The conduct of Germany in this war has shown that\npublic opinion is powerless to restrain a nation which feels strong\nenough to defy it.\n\nAnother cause which may give patriots leisure to turn their thoughts\naway from war's alarms is that the 'swarming' period of the European\nraces is coming to an end. The unparalleled increase of population in\nthe first three quarters of the 19th century has been followed by a\nprogressive decrease in the birth-rate, which will begin to tell upon\nsocial conditions when the reduction in the death-rate, which has\nhitherto kept pace with it, shall have reached its natural limit. Europe\nwith a stationary population will be in a much happier condition; and\nproblems of social reform can then be tackled with some hope of success.\nHonourable emulation in the arts of life may then take the place of\ndesperate competition and antagonism. Human lives will begin to have a\npositive value, and we may even think it fair to honour our saviours\nmore than our destroyers. The effects of past follies will then soon be\neffaced; for nations recover much more quickly from wars than from\ninternal disorders. External injuries are rapidly cured; but 'those\nwounds heal ill that men do give themselves.' The greatest obstacle to\nprogress is not man's inherited pugnacity, but his incorrigible tendency\nto parasitism. The true patriot will keep his eye fixed on this, and\nwill dread as the state's worst enemies those citizens who at the top\nand bottom of the social scale have no other ambition than to hang on\nand suck the life-blood of the nation. Great things may be hoped from\nthe new science of eugenics, when it has passed out of its tentative and\nexperimental stage.\n\nIn the distant future we may reasonably hope that patriotism will be a\nsentiment like the loyalty which binds a man to his public school and\nuniversity, an affection purged of all rancour and jealousy, a stimulus\nto all honourable conduct and noble effort, a part of the poetry of\nlife. It is so already to many of us, and has been so to the noblest\nEnglishmen since we have had a literature. If Henry V's speech at\nAgincourt is the splendid gasconade of a royal freebooter, there is no\nfalse ring in the scene where John of Gaunt takes leave of his banished\nson; nor in Sir Walter Scott's 'Breathes there a man with soul so dead,'\netc. 'If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her\ncunning.' We cannot quite manage to substitute London for Zion in\nsinging psalms, though there are some in England--Eton, Winchester,\nOxford, Cambridge--which do evoke these feelings. These emotions of\nloyalty and devotion are by no means to be checked or despised. They\nhave an infinite potency for good. In spiritual things there is no\nconflict between intensity and expansion. The deepest sympathy is,\npotentially, also the widest. He who loves not his home and country\nwhich he has seen, how shall he love humanity in general which he has\nnot seen? There are, after all, few emotions of which one has less\nreason to be ashamed than the little lump in the throat which the\nEnglishman feels when he first catches sight of the white cliffs of\nDover.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [8] In his _Introduction to Social Psychology_.\n\n     [9] The reasons of their irresistible strength have been\n     explained in a most brilliant manner by Dr. Peisker in the\n     first volume of the 'Cambridge Medieval History.'\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRTH-RATE\n\n(1917)\n\n\nThe numbers of every species are determined, not by the procreative\npower of its members, which always greatly exceeds the capacity of the\nearth to support a progeny increasing in geometrical progression, but by\ntwo factors, the activity of its enemies and the available supply of\nfood. Those species which survive owe their success in the struggle for\nexistence mainly to one of two qualities, enormous fertility or parental\ncare. The female cod spawns about 6,000,000 eggs at a time, of which at\nmost one-third--perhaps much less--are afterwards fertilised. An\ninfinitesimal proportion of these escapes being devoured by fish or\nfowl. An insect-eating bird is said to require for its support about\n250,000 insects a year, and the number of such birds must amount to\nthousands of millions. As a rule there is a kind of equilibrium between\nthe forces of destruction and of reproduction. If a species is nearly\nexterminated by its enemies, those enemies lose their food-supply and\nperish themselves. In some sheltered spot the survivors of the victims\nremain and increase till they begin to send out colonies again. In some\nspecies, such as the mice in La Plata, and the beasts and birds which\ndevour them, there is an alternation of increase and decrease, to be\naccounted for in this way. But permanent disturbances of equilibrium\nsometimes occur. The rabbit in Australia, having found a virgin soil,\nmultiplied for some time almost up to the limit of its natural fertility\nand is firmly established on that continent. The brown rat (some say)\nhas exterminated our black rat and the Maori rat in New Zealand. The\nmicrobe of the terrible disease which the crews of Columbus brought back\nto Europe, after causing a devastating epidemic at the end of the\nfifteenth century, established a kind of _modus vivendi_ with its hosts,\nand has remained as a permanent scourge in Europe. Other microbes, like\nthose of cholera and plague, emigrate from the lands where they are\nendemic, like a horde of Tartars, and after slaying all who are\nsusceptible disappear from inanition. The draining of the fens has\ndriven the anopheles mosquito from England, and our countrymen no longer\nsuffer from 'ague.' Cleanlier habits are banishing the louse and its\naccompaniment typhus fever.\n\nFertility and care for offspring seem as a rule to vary inversely. The\nlatter is the path of biological progress, and is characteristic of all\nviviparous animals. That any degree of parental attention is\nincompatible with the immense fecundity of the lower organisms needs no\ndemonstration. Such fertility is not necessary to keep up the numbers of\nthe higher species, which find abundant food in the swarming progeny of\nthe lower types, and are not themselves exposed to wholesale slaughter.\nSpeaking of fishes, Sutherland says:\n\n     Of species that exhibit no sort of parental care, the\n     average of forty-nine gives 1,040,000 eggs to a female each\n     year; while among those which make nests or any apology for\n     nests the number is only about 10,000. Among those which\n     have any protective tricks, such as carrying the eggs in\n     pouches or attached to the body, or in the mouth, the\n     average number is under 1000; while among those whose care\n     takes the form of uterine or quasi-uterine gestation which\n     brings the young into the world alive, an average of 56 eggs\n     is quite sufficient.\n\nMan is no exception to these laws. His evolution has been steadily in\nthe direction of diminishing fertility and increasing parental care.\nThis does not necessarily imply that the modern European loves his\nchildren better than the savage loves his. It is grim necessity, not\nwant of affection, which determines the treatment of children by their\nparents over a great part of the world, and through the greater part of\nhuman history. The homeless hunters, who represent the lowest stage of\nsavagery, are now almost extinct. In these tribes the woman has to\nfollow the man carrying her baby. Under such conditions the chances of\nrearing a large family are small indeed. Very different is the life of\nthe grassland nomads, who roam over the Arabian plateau and the steppes\nof Central Asia. These tribes, who really live as the parasites of their\nflocks and herds, depending on them entirely for subsistence, often\nmultiply rapidly. Their typical unit is the great patriarchal family, in\nwhich the _sheikh_ may have scores of children by different mothers.\nThese children soon begin to earn their keep, and are taken care of. If,\nhowever, the patriarch so chooses, Hagar with her child is cast adrift,\nto find her way back to her own people, if she can. The grasslands are\nusually almost as full as they can hold. A period of drought, or\npressure by rivals, in former times sent a horde of these hardy\nshepherds on a raid into the nearest settled province; and if, like the\nTartars, they were mounted, they usually killed, plundered, and\nconquered wherever they went, until the discovery of gunpowder saved\ncivilisation from the recurrent peril of barbarian inroads. Barbarians\nof another type, hunters with fixed homes, seldom increase rapidly,\npartly because the dangers of forest-life for young children are much\ngreater than on the steppe.\n\nIn the primitive river-valley civilisations, such as Egypt and\nBabylonia, the conditions of increase were so favourable that a dense\npopulation soon began to press upon the means of subsistence. In Egypt\nthe remedy was a centralised government which could undertake great\nirrigation works and intensive cultivation. In Babylonia, for the first\ntime in history, foreign trade was made to support a larger population\nthan the land itself could maintain. There was little or no infanticide\nin Babylonia, but the death-rate in these steaming alluvial plains has\nalways been very high.\n\nWhen we turn to poor and mountainous countries like Greece, the\nconditions are very different. It was an old belief among the Hellenes\nthat in the days before the Trojan War 'the world was too full of\npeople.' The increase was doubtless made possible by the trade which\ndeveloped in the Minoan period, but the sources of food-supply were\nliable to be interfered with. Hence came the necessity for active\ncolonisation, which lasted from the eighth to the sixth century B.C.\nThis period of expansion came to an end when all the available sites\nwere occupied. In the sixth century the Greeks found themselves headed\noff, in the west by Phoenicians and Etruscans, in the east by the\nPersian Empire. The problem of over-population was again pressing upon\nthem. Incessant civil wars between Hellenes kept the numbers down to\nsome extent; but Greek battles were not as a rule very bloody, and every\nhealthy nation has a surprising capacity of making good the losses\ncaused by war. The first effect of the check to emigration was that the\nold ideal of the 'self-sufficient life,' which meant the practice of\nmixed farming, had to be partially abandoned. The most flourishing\nStates, and especially Athens, had to take to manufactures, which they\nexchanged for the food-products of the Balkan States and South Russia.\nThe result was an increasing urbanisation, and a new population of free\n'resident aliens.' Conservatives hated this change and wished to revive\nthe old ideal of a small self-supporting State, with a maximum of 20,000\nor 30,000 citizens. Plato, in his latest work, the 'Laws,' wishes his\nmodel city to be not too near the sea, the proximity of which 'fills the\nstreets with merchants and shopkeepers, and begets dishonesty in the\nsouls of men.' On the other side Isocrates, the most far-seeing of\nAthenian politicians, realised that the day of small city-states was\nover, and that the limited, 'self-sufficient' community would not long\nmaintain its independence. He urged his countrymen to pursue a policy of\npeaceful penetration in Western Asia, as the Greeks were soon to do\nunder the successors of Alexander. But the prejudice against\nindustrialism was very strong. Greece in the fifth century remained a\npoor country; her exports were not more than enough to pay for the food\nof her existing population; and that population had to be artificially\nrestricted. The Greeks were an exceptionally healthy and long-lived\nrace; their great men for the most part lived to ages which have no\nparallel until the nineteenth century. The infant death-rate from\nnatural causes may have been rather high, as it is in modern Greece, but\nit was augmented by systematic infanticide. The Greek father had an\nabsolute right to decide whether a new-comer was to be admitted to the\nfamily. In Ephesus alone of Greek cities a parent was compelled to prove\nthat he was too poor to rear a child before he was allowed to get rid of\nit.[10] Even Hesiod, centuries earlier, advises a father not to bring up\nmore than one son, and daughters were sacrificed more frequently than\nsons. The usual practice was to expose the infant in a jar; anyone who\nthought it worth while might rescue the baby and bring it up as a slave.\nBut this was not often done. At Gela, in Sicily, there are 233 'potted'\nburials in an excavated graveyard, out of a total of 570.[11] The\nproportion of female infants exposed must have been very large. The\nevidence of literature is supported by such letters as this from a\nhusband at Oxyrhynchus: 'When--good luck to you--your child is born, if\nit is a male, let it live; if a female, expose it.'[12] Besides\ninfanticide, abortion was freely practised, and without blame.[13] The\nGreek citizen married rather late; but as his bride was usually in her\n'teens this would not affect the birth-rate. Nor need we attach much\nimportance, as a factor in checking population, to the characteristic\nGreek vice, nor to prostitution, which throughout antiquity was\nincredibly cheap and visited by no physical penalty. As for slaves,\nXenophon recommends that they should be allowed to have children as a\nreward for good conduct.[14]\n\nA rapid decline in population set in under the successors of Alexander.\nPolybius ascribes it to selfishness and a high standard of comfort,\nwhich is doubtless true of the upper and middle classes;[15] but the\ndepopulation of rural Greece can hardly be so accounted for. Perhaps\nthe forests were cut down, and the rainfall diminished. It was the\ngeneral impression that the soil was far less productive than formerly.\nThe decay of the Hellenic race was accelerated after the Roman conquest,\nuntil the old stock became almost extinct. This disappearance of the\nmost gifted race that ever inhabited our planet is one of the strangest\ncatastrophes of history, and is full of warnings for the modern\nsociologist. Industrial slavery, indifference to parenthood, and\naddiction to club-life were certainly three of the main causes, unless\nwe prefer to regard the two last as symptoms of hopelessness about the\nfuture.\n\nThe same disease fell upon Italy, and was coincident not with the\nmurderous war against Hannibal and the subsequent campaigns, costly\nthough they were, in Spain, Syria, and Macedonia, but with the\nHellenisation of social life. Lucan, under Nero, complains that the\ntowns have lost more than half their inhabitants, and that the\ncountry-side lies waste. Under Titus it was estimated that, whereas\nItaly under the Republic could raise nearly 800,000 soldiers, that\nnumber was now reduced by one-half. Marcus Aurelius planted a large\ntribe of Marcomanni on unoccupied land in Italy. In the fourth century\nBologna, Modena, Piacenza, and many other towns in North Italy were in\nruins. The land of the Volscians and Aequians, once densely populated,\nwas a desert even in Livy's time. Samnium remained the wilderness that\nSulla had left it; and Apulia was a lonely sheep-walk.\n\nThe causes of this depopulation have been often discussed, both in\nantiquity and in our own day. Slavery, infanticide, celibacy, wars and\nmassacres, large estates, and pestilence have all been named as causes;\nbut I am inclined to think that all these influences together are\ninsufficient to account for so rapid a decline. The toll of war was\nlighter by far than in periods when the population was rising;\ninfectious disease (unless we suppose, as some have suggested, that\nmalaria became for the first time endemic under the Roman domination)\ninvaded the empire in occasional and destructive epidemics, but a\nhealthy population recovers from pestilence, as from war, with great\nrapidity. The large grazing ranches displaced farms because corn-growing\nin Italy was unprofitable, but there was a large supply of grain from\nSicily, Africa, and other districts. Slavery undoubtedly accounts for a\ngreat deal. This institution is excessively wasteful of human life; it\nis never possible to keep up the numbers of slaves without slave-hunting\nin the countries from which they come. And we must remember that ancient\ncivilisation was almost entirely urban. The barbarians found ample waste\nlands between the towns, which they did not as a rule care to visit,\nprobably because those who did so soon fell victims to microbic\ndiseases. The sanitary condition of ancient cities was better than in\nthe Middle Ages; but the death-rate was probably too high to permit of\nany increase in the population. But after admitting that all these\ncauses were operative, it may be that we shall be obliged to acknowledge\nalso a psychological factor. If a nation has no hopes for the future, if\nit is even doubtful whether life is worth living, if it is disposed to\nwithdraw from the struggle for existence and to meet the problems of\nlife in a temper of passive resignation, it will not regard children as\na heritage and gift that cometh from the Lord, but rather as an\nencumbrance. That such was the temper of the later Roman Empire may be\ngathered not only from the literature, which is singularly devoid of\nhopefulness and enterprise, but from the rapid spread of monasticism and\neremitism in this period. The prevalence of this world-weariness of\ncourse needs explanation, and the cause is rather obscure. It does not\nseem to be connected with unfavourable external conditions, but rather\nwith a racial exhaustion akin to senile decay in the individual. But\nthere is no real analogy between the life of an individual and that of a\nnation, and it would be very rash to insist on the hypothesis of racial\ndecay, which perhaps has no biological basis.\n\nThe influence of Christianity on population is very difficult to\nestimate. Nothing is more unscientific than to collect the ethical\nprecepts and practices of nations which profess the Christian religion,\nand to label them as 'the results of Christianity.' The historian of\nreligion would indeed be faced by a strange task if he were compelled to\ntrace the moral ideals of Simeon Stylites and of Howard the\nphilanthropist, of Francis of Assisi and Oliver Cromwell, of Thomas\nAquinas and Thomas a Becket, to a common source. The only ethical and\nsocial principles which can properly be called Christian are those which\ncan be proved to have their root in the teaching and example of the\nFounder of Christianity. But the Gospel of Christ was a product of\nJewish soil. It is historically connected with the Jewish prophetic\ntradition, which it carried to its fullest development and presented in\nan universalised and spiritualised form. Its social teaching consists\nchiefly of general principles which have to be applied to conditions\nunlike those contemplated by its first disciples, who were under the\ninfluence of the apocalyptic expectations prevalent at the time. Jewish\nmorality was in its origin the morality of a tribe of nomad Bedouins;\nand we have seen that infant life is held sacred by these peoples.\nMarriage is regarded as a duty, and childlessness as a misfortune or a\ndisgrace. The forward look, characteristic of the Hebrews from the\nfirst, made every Jew desirous to leave descendants who might witness\nhappier times, and one of whom might even be the promised Deliverer of\nhis people. No Hebrew of either sex was allowed to be a servant of vice;\nabnormal practices, though screened by Canaanite religion, were far less\ncommon than in Greece or Italy. To this wholesome morality Christianity\nadded the doctrines of the value, in the sight of God, of every human\nlife, and of the sanctity of the body as the 'temple of God.' To the\nPagans, the continence of the Christians was, next to their affection\nfor each other, their most remarkable characteristic. From the first,\nthe new religion set itself firmly against infanticide and abortion, and\nwon one of its most signal moral triumphs in driving underground and\ngreatly diminishing homosexual vice. Its encouragement of celibacy,\nespecially for those who followed the 'religious' vocation, was an\noffset to its healthy influence on family life, and ultimately, as\nGalton has shown, worked great mischief by sterilising for centuries\nmany of the gentlest and noblest in each generation; but this tendency\nwas adventitious to Christianity, and would never have taken root on\nPalestinian soil. The cult of virginity has lasted on, with much else\nthat belongs to the later Hellenistic age, in Catholicism.\n\nIn the Middle Ages the population question slumbered. The miserable\nchaos into which the old civilisation sank after the barbarian\ninvasions, the orgies of massacre and plunder, the almost total oblivion\nof medical science, and the pestiferous condition of the medieval walled\ntown, which could be smelt miles away, averted any risk of\nover-population. Families were very large, but the majority of the\nchildren died. Millions were swept away by the Black Death; millions\nmore by the Crusades. Such books as that of Luchaire, on France in the\nreign of Philip Augustus, bring vividly before us the horrible condition\nof society in feudal times, and explain amply the sparsity of the\npopulation.\n\nThe early modern period contains another notable example of a sudden and\nunaccountable decline in population. The scene is Spain, which, after\nplaying an active and very prominent part in the world's history, sank\nquickly into the lethargy from which it has never recovered. It may be\nnoted that here, as in the case of Rome, the decay of population and\nenergy followed a great influx of plundered wealth. On the other hand,\nthe increase of population in our newly-planted North American colonies\nmust have been extremely rapid for two or three generations.\n\nThe enormous multiplication of the European races since the middle of\nthe eighteenth century is a phenomenon quite unique in history, and\nnever likely to be repeated.[16] It was rendered possible by the new\nlabour-saving inventions which immensely increased the exports which\ncould be exchanged for food, and by the opening up of vast new\nfood-producing areas. The chief method by which the increase was\neffected, especially in the later period, has been the lengthening of\nhuman life by improved sanitation and medical science.[17] Since 1865\nthe average duration of life in England and Wales has been raised by a\nlittle more than one-third. Other European countries show the same ratio\nof improvement. This astonishing result, so little known and so seldom\nreferred to, was bound to have a great effect on the birth-rate. So long\nas the swarming period continued at its height, a net annual increase of\n15 or even 20 per thousand could be sustained; but the expansion of the\nEuropean peoples has now passed its zenith, and a tendency to revert to\nmore normal conditions is almost everywhere observable. One of the most\nadvanced nations, France, has already reached the equilibrium towards\nwhich other civilised nations are moving. The old-established families\nin the United States are believed to be actually dwindling.\n\nThe student of international vital statistics will be struck first by\nthe very wide differences in the birth-rate of different countries. He\nwill then notice that the more backward countries have on the whole a\nconsiderably higher birth-rate than the more advanced. Thirdly, he will\nobserve the parallelism between the birth-rate and death-rate, which\nmakes the net increase in countries with a high birth-rate very little\nlarger than that of countries with a low birth-rate. The following\nfigures will illustrate these points; they are taken from the\nRegistrar-General's Blue Book for 1912.\n\n\n                      Birth-rate Death-rate Net rate of\n                                              increase\nUnited Kingdom           23.9       13.8         10.1\nAustralia                28.7       11.2         17.5\nAustria                  31.3       20.5         10.8\nBelgium                  22.9       16.4          6.5\nFrance                   19.0       17.5          1.5\nGermany                  28.6       17.3         11.3\nItaly                    32.4       18.2         14.2\nNew Zealand              26.5        8.9         17.6\nNorway                   25.4       13.4         12.0\nRoumania                 43.4       22.9         20.5\nRussia                   44.0       28.9         15.1\n\nIt will be seen that Australia and New Zealand, with low birth-rates and\nthe lowest death-rates in the world increase more rapidly than Russia\nwith an enormous birth-rate and proportionately high death-rate. No one\ncan doubt that our colonies achieve their increase with far less\nfriction and misery than the prolific but short-lived Slavs.\nCivilisation in a high form is incompatible with such conditions as\nthese figures disclose in Russia. The figures for Egypt and India are\nsimilar to the Russian, but in India, which is overfull, the mortality\nis greater than even in Russia, and the same is true of China, in which\nwe are told that seven out of ten children die in infancy. It has been\nsuggested that the fairest measure of a country's well-being, as regards\nits actual vitality, is the square of the death-rate divided by the\nbirth-rate.\n\nIt is well known that a decline in the birth-rate set in about forty\nyears ago in this country, and has gone on steadily ever since, till the\nfall now amounts to about one-third of the total births. It thus\ncorresponds very nearly to the fall in the death-rate during the same\nperiod. It is also well known that this decline is not evenly\ndistributed among different classes of the people. Until the decline\nbegan, large families were the rule in all classes, and the slightly\nlarger families of the poor were compensated by their somewhat higher\nmortality. But since 1877 large families have become increasingly rare\nin the upper and middle classes, and among the skilled artisans. They\nare frequent in the thriftless ranks of unskilled labour, and in one\nsection of well-paid workmen--the miners. The highest birth-rates at\npresent are in the mining districts and in the slums. The lowest are in\nsome of the learned professions. In the Rhondda Valley the birth-rate is\nstill about forty, which is double the rate in the prosperous\nresidential suburbs of London. In the seats of the textile industry the\ndecline has been very severe, although wages are fairly good; among the\nagricultural labourers the rate is also low. It will be found that in\nall trades where the women work for wages the birth-rate has fallen\nsharply; the miner's wife does not earn money, and has therefore less\ninducement to restrict her family. In agricultural districts the housing\ndifficulty is mainly responsible; in the upper and middle classes the\nheavy expense of education and the burden of rates and taxes are\nprobably the main reasons why larger families are not desired. We may\nadd that in almost all the professions old men are overpaid and young\nmen under-paid. Mr. and Mrs. Whetham[18] have found that, before 1870,\n143 marriages of men whose names appear in 'Who's Who' resulted in 743\nchildren, an average of 5.2 each; after 1870 the average is only 3.08.\nCelibacy also is commoner among the educated. 'From the reports issued\nby two Women's Colleges, it appears that, excluding those who have left\ncollege within three years or less, out of 3000 women only 22 per cent.\nhave married, and the number of children born to each marriage is\nundoubtedly very small.' The writers consider that this state of things\nis extremely dangerous for the country, inasmuch as we are now breeding\nmainly from our worst stocks (the feeble-minded are very prolific),\nwhile our best families are stationary or dwindling. Without denying the\ngeneral truth of this pessimistic conclusion,[19] it may be pointed out\nthat the miners are, physically at least, above the average of the whole\npopulation, and that the very low birth-rate of residential districts is\npartly due to the presence in large numbers of unmarried domestic\nservants. The death-rate of the slums is also very high.\n\nThe fears of the eugenist about the quality of the population are far\nmore reasonable than the invectives of the fanatic about its defective\nquantity. Of the latter class we may say with Havelock Ellis that 'those\nwho seek to restore the birth-rate of half a century ago are engaged in\na task which would be criminal if it were not based on ignorance, and\nwhich is in any case fatuous.' And yet I hope to show before the close\nof this article that for two or three generations the British Empire\ncould absorb a considerable increase, and that the Government might with\nadvantage stimulate this by schemes of colonisation. The lament of the\neugenist resounds in all countries alike. The German complains that the\nPoles, whom he considers an inferior race, breed like rabbits, while the\ngifted exponents of _Kultur_ only breed like hares. The American is\nnervous about the numbers of the negro; he has more reason to be nervous\nabout the fecundity of the Slav and South Italian immigrant. Everywhere\nthe tendency is for the superior stock to dwindle till it becomes a\nsmall aristocracy. The Americans of British descent are threatened with\nthis fate. Pride and a high standard of living are not biological\nvirtues. The man who needs and spends little is the ultimate inheritor\nof the earth. I know of no instance in history in which a ruling race\nhas not ultimately been ousted or absorbed by its subjects. Complete\nextermination or expropriation is the only successful method of\nconquest. The Anglo-Saxon race has thus established itself in the\ngreater part of Britain, and in Australasia. In North America it has\ndestroyed the Indian hunter, who could not be used for industrial\npurposes; but the temptation to exploit the negro and the cheaper\nEuropean races was too strong to be resisted, and Nature's heaviest\npenalty is now being exacted against the descendants of our sturdy\ncolonists. We did not lose America in the eighteenth century; we are\nlosing it now. As for South Africa, the Kaffir can live like a gentleman\n(according to his own ideas) on six months' ill-paid work every year;\nthe Englishman finds an income of L200 too small. There is only one end\nto this kind of colonisation. The danger at home is that the larger part\nof the population is now beginning to insist upon a scale of\nremuneration and a standard of comfort which are incompatible with any\nsurvival-value. We all wish to be privileged aristocrats, with no serfs\nto work for us. Dame Nature cares nothing for the babble of politicians\nand trade-union regulations. She says to us what Plotinus, in a\nremarkable passage, makes her say: 'You should not ask questions; you\nshould try to understand. _I am not in the habit of talking._' In\nNature's school it is a word and a blow, and the blow first. Before the\nclose of this article I will return to the eugenic problem, and will\nconsider whether anything can be done to solve it.\n\nAt the present time, when an apparently internecine conflict is raging\nbetween the British Empire and Germany, a more detailed comparison of\nthe vital statistics of the two countries will be read with interest. In\nEngland and Wales the birth-rate culminated in 1876 at a little over 36,\nafter slowly rising from 33 in 1850. From 1876 the line of decline is\nalmost straight, down to the ante-war figure of about 24. In Prussia,\nowing partly to wars, the fluctuations have been violent. In 1850 the\nfigure (omitting decimals) was 39; in 1855, 34; in 1859, 40; in 1871,\n34; in 1875, nearly 41. From this date, as in England, the steady\ndecline began. In 1907 the rate had fallen to 33; in 1913 (German\nEmpire) to 27.5. Here we may notice the abnormally high rate in the\nyears following the great war of 1870, a phenomenon which was marked\nalso throughout Europe after the Napoleonic wars. We may also notice\nthat the decline has been of late slightly more rapid in Germany,\nfalling from a high birth-rate, than in England, where the maximum was\nnever so high. Another fact which comes out when the German figures are\nmore carefully examined is that urbanisation in Germany has a\nsterilising effect which is not operative in England. Prinzing gives the\ncomparative figures of _legitimate_ fertility for Prussia as follows:\n\n                               1879-1882  1894-1897\n\nBerlin                            23.8      16.9[20]\nOther great towns                 26.7      23.5\nTowns of 20,000 to 100,000        26.8      25.7\nSmall towns                       27.8      25.9\nCountry districts                 28.8      29.0\n\nNow urbanisation is going on even more rapidly in Germany than in\nEngland. The death-rate in England and Wales rose from 21 in 1850 to\n23.5 in 1854; after sharp fluctuations it reached 23.7 in 1864; since\nthen it has declined to its present figure (in normal times) of 14. In\nPrussia after the war of 1870 and the small-pox epidemic of 1871, there\nhas been a steady fall from 26 to 17.3 (German Empire in 1911). The net\nincrease is only slightly larger (in proportion to the population) in\nGermany than in England; and the increase in our great colonies,\nespecially in Australasia, is much higher than in Germany. There is\ntherefore no reason to suppose that a rapid alteration is going on to\nour disadvantage.\n\nIt is widely believed that the Roman Catholic Church, by sternly\nforbidding the artificial limitation of families, is increasing its\nnumbers at the expense of the non-Catholic populations. To some extent\nthis is true. The Prussian figures for 1895-1900 give the number of\nchildren per marriage as:\n\nBoth parents Catholic            5\nBoth parents Protestant          4\nBoth parents Jews                3.7\n\nAn examination of the entries in 'Who's Who' gives about the same\nproportion for well-to-do families in England. The Catholic birth-rate\nof the Irish is nearly 40.[21] The French-Canadians are among the most\nprolific races in the world. On the other hand, their infant mortality\nis very high, and it is said that French-Canadian parents take these\nlosses philosophically. It is quite a different question whether it is\nultimately to the advantage of a nation which desires to increase its\nnumbers to profess the Roman Catholic religion. The high birth-rates are\nall in unprogressive Catholic populations. When a Catholic people begins\nto be educated, the priests apparently lose their influence upon the\nhabits of the laity, and a rapid decline in the births at once sets in.\nThe most advanced countries which did not accept the Reformation, France\nand Belgium, are precisely those in which parental prudence has been\ncarried almost to excess. We must also remember that the Dutch Boers,\nwho are Protestants, but who live under simple conditions not unlike\nthose of the French-Canadians, are equally prolific, as were our own\ncolonists in the United States before that country was industrialised.\nThe advantages in numbers gained by Roman Catholicism are likely to be\nconfined to half-empty countries, where there is really room for more\ncitizens, and where social ambition and the love of comfort are the\nchief motives for restricting the family.\n\nThe population of a settled country cannot be increased at will; it\ndepends on the supply of food. The choice is between a high birth-rate\ncombined with a high death-rate, and a low birth-rate with a low\ndeath-rate. The great saving of life which has been effected during the\nlast fifty years carries with it the necessity of restricting the\nbirths. The next question to be considered is how this restriction is to\nbe brought about. The oldest methods are deliberate neglect and\ninfanticide. In China, where authorities differ as to the extent to\nwhich female infants are exposed, the practice certainly prevails of\nfeeding infants whom their mothers are unable to suckle on rice and\nwater, which soon terminates their existence. Such methods would happily\nfind no advocates in Europe. The very ancient art of procuring\nmiscarriage is a criminal act in most civilised countries, but it is\npractised to an appalling extent. Hirsch, who quotes his authorities,\nestimates that 2,000,000 births are so prevented annually in the United\nStates, 400,000 in Germany, 50,000 in Paris, and 19,000 in Lyons. In our\nown country it is exceedingly common in the northern towns, and attempts\nare now being made to prohibit the sale of certain preparations of lead\nwhich are used for this purpose. Alike on grounds of public health and\nof morality, it is most desirable that this mischievous practice should\nbe checked. Its great prevalence in the United States is to be\nattributed mainly to the drastic legislation in that country against the\nsale and use of preventives, to which many persons take objection on\nmoral or aesthetic grounds, but which is surely on an entirely different\nlevel from the destruction of life that has already begun. The\n'Comstock' legislation in America has done unmixed harm. It is worse\nthan useless to try to put down by law a practice which a very large\nnumber of people believes to be innocent, and which must be left to the\ntaste and conscience of the individual. To the present writer it seems a\n_pis aller_ which high-minded married persons should avoid if they can\npractise self-restraint. Whatever injures the feeling of\n'sanctification and honour' with which St. Paul bids us to regard these\nintimacies of life, whatever tends to profane or degrade the sacraments\nof wedded love, is so far an evil. But this is emphatically a matter in\nwhich every man and woman must judge for themselves, and must refrain\nfrom judging others.\n\nIn every modern civilised country population is restricted partly by the\ndeliberate postponement of marriage. In many cases this does no harm\nwhatever; but in many others it gravely diminishes the happiness of\nyoung people, and may even cause minor disturbances of health. Moreover,\nit would not be so widely adopted but for the tolerance, on the part of\nsociety, of the 'great social evil,' the opprobrium of our civilisation.\nIn spite of the failure hitherto of priests, moralists, and legislators\nto root it out, and in spite of the acceptance of it as inevitable by\nthe majority of Continental opinion, I believe that this abomination\nwill not long be tolerated by the conscience of the free and progressive\nnations. It is notorious that the whole body of women deeply resents the\nwrong and contumely done by it to their sex, and that, if democracy is\nto be a reality, the immolation of a considerable section of women drawn\nfrom the poorer classes cannot be suffered to continue. It is also plain\nto all who have examined the subject that the campaign against certain\ndiseases, the malignity and wide diffusion of which are being more fully\nrealised every year, cannot be successful through medical methods alone.\nIf the institution in question were abolished, medical science would\nsoon reduce these scourges to manageable limits, and might at last\nexterminate them altogether; but while it continues there is no hope of\ndoing this. I believe then that the time will come when the trade in\nvice will cease; and if I am right, early marriages will become the rule\nin all classes. This will render the population question more acute,\nespecially as the diseases which we hope to extirpate are the commonest\ncause both of sterility and of infant mortality. Under this pressure, we\nmust expect to see preventive methods widely accepted as the least of\nunavoidable evils.\n\nWhen we reflect on the whole problem in its widest aspects, we see that\ncivilised humanity is confronted by a Choice of Hercules. On the one\nside, biological law seems to urge us forward to the struggle for\nexistence and expansion. The nation in that case will have to be\norganised on the lines of greatest efficiency. A strong centralised\ngovernment will occupy itself largely in preventing waste. All the\nresources of the nation must be used to the uttermost. Parks must be cut\nup into allotments; the unproductive labours of the scholar and thinker\nmust be jealously controlled and limited. Inefficient citizens must be\nweeded out; wages must be low and hours of work long. Moreover, the\nState must be organised for war; for its neighbours, we must suppose,\nare following the same policy. Then the fierce extra-group competition\nmust come to its logical arbitrament in a life and death struggle. And\nwar between two over-peopled countries, for both of which more\nelbow-room is a vital necessity, must be a war of complete expropriation\nor extermination. It must be so, for no other kind of war can achieve\nits object. The horrors of the present conflict will be as nothing\ncompared with a struggle between two highly-organised State socialisms,\neach of which knows that it must either colonise the territory of the\nother or starve. It is idle to pretend that such a necessity will never\narise. Another century of increase in Europe like that of the nineteenth\ncentury would bring it very near. If this policy is adopted, we shall\nsee all the principal States organising themselves with a perfection far\ngreater than that of Germany to-day, but taking German methods as their\nmodel; and the end will be the extermination of the smaller or looser\norganisations. Such a prospect may well fill us with horror; and it is\nterrible to find some of the ablest thinkers of Germany, such as Ernst\nTroeltsch, writing calm elegies over 'the death of Liberalism' and\npredicting the advent of an era of cut-throat international competition.\nJuvenal speaks of the folly of _propter vitam vivendi perdere causas_;\nand who would care to live in such a world? But does Nature care whether\nwe enjoy our lives or not?\n\nThe other choice is that which France has made for herself; it is on the\nlines of Plato's ideal State. Each country is to be, as far as\npossible, self-sufficing. If it cannot grow sufficient food for itself,\nit must of course export its coal or its gold, or the products of its\nindustry and ingenuity. But it must know approximately what 'the number\nof the State' (as Plato said) should be. It must limit its population to\nthat number, and the limit will be fixed, not at the maximum number who\ncan live there anyhow, but at the maximum number who can 'live well.'\nThe object aimed at will not be constant expansion, but well-being. The\nenergies liberated from the pitiless struggle for existence will be\ndevoted to making social life wiser, happier, more harmonious and more\nbeautiful. Have we any reason to hope that this policy is not contrary\nto the hard laws which Nature imposes on every species in the world?\n\nIn the first place, would such a State escape being devoured by some\nbrutal 'expanding' neighbour? What would have happened to France if she\nhad stood alone in this war? The danger is real; but we may answer that\nFrance, as a matter of fact, did not stand alone, because other nations\nthought her too precious to be sacrificed. And the completely organised\ncompetitive State which I have imagined would be a far more unlovely\nplace than Germany, and more unpleasant to live in. The spectacle of a\nsaner and happier polity next door would break up the purely competitive\nState from within; the strain would be too great for human nature. We\ncannot argue confidently from the struggle for existence among the lower\nanimals to our own species. For a long time past, human evolution has\nbeen directed, not to living anyhow, but to living in a certain way. We\nare guided by ideals for the future, by purposes winch we clearly set\nbefore ourselves, in a way which is impossible to the brutes. These\npurposes are common to the large majority of men. No State can long\nmaintain a rigid and oppressive organisation, except under the threat of\ndanger; and a nation which aims only at perfecting its own culture is\nnot dangerous to its neighbours. It is probable that without the\nsupposed menace of another military Power on its eastern flank German\nmilitarism would have begun to crumble.\n\nIn the second place, would the absence of sharp competition within the\ngroup lead to racial degeneration? This is a difficult question to\nanswer. Perhaps a diminution of pugnacity and of the means to gratify\nthis instinct would not be a misfortune. But it is certainly true that,\nif the operation of natural selection is suspended, rational selection\nmust take its place. Failing this, reversion to a lower type is\ninevitable. The infant science of eugenics will have much to say on this\nsubject hereafter; at present we are only discovering how complex and\nobscure the laws of heredity are. The State of the future will have to\nstep in to prevent the propagation of undesirable variations, whether\nphysical or mental, and will doubtless find means to encourage the\nincrease of families that are well endowed by Nature.\n\nAssuming that a nation as a whole prefers a policy of this kind, and\naims at such an equilibrium of births and deaths as will set free the\nenergies of the people for the higher objects of civilised life, how\nwill it escape the cacogenic effects of family restriction in the better\nclasses combined with reckless multiplication among the refuse which\nalways exists in a large community? This is a problem which has not yet\nbeen solved. Public opinion is not ready for legislation against the\nmultiplication of the unfit, and it is not easy to see what form such\nlegislation could take. Many of the very poor are not undesirable\nparents; we must not confound economic prosperity with biological\nfitness. The 'submerged tenth' should be raised, where it is possible,\ninto a condition of self-respect and responsibility; but they must not\nbe allowed to be a burden upon the efficient; and the upper and middle\nclasses should simplify their habits so far as to make marriage and\nparenthood possible for the young professional man. Special care should\nbe taken that taxation is so adjusted as not to penalise parenthood in\nthe socially valuable middle class.\n\nFor some time to come we are likely to see, in all the leading nations,\na restricted birth-rate, prompted by desire for social betterment,\ncombined, however, with concessions to the rival policy of commercial\nexpansion, growing numbers, and military preparation. The nations will\nnot cease to fear and suspect each other in the twentieth century, and\nany one nation which chooses to be a nuisance to Europe will keep back\nthe progress and happiness of the rest. The prospect is not very bright;\na too generous confidence might betray some nation into irretrievable\ndisaster. But the bracing influence of national danger may perhaps be\nbeneficial. For we have to remember the pitiable decay of the ancient\nclassical civilisation, which was partly due, as we have found, to a\ndesire for comfortable and easy living. There have been signs that many\nof our countrymen no longer think the strenuous life worth while; part\nof our resentment against Germany resembles the annoyance of an\nold-fashioned firm, disturbed in its comfortable security by the\ncompetition of a young and more vigorous rival. It is even suggested\nthat after the war we should protect ourselves against German\ncompetition by tariff walls. This abandonment of the free trade policy\non which our prosperity is built would soon bring our over-populated\nisland to ruin.\n\nIn conclusion, if we leave the distant future to fend for itself when\nthe time comes, what should be our policy with regard to population for\nthe next fifty years? I am led to an opinion which may seem to run\ncounter to the general purport of this article. For though the British\nIsles are even dangerously full, so that we are liable to be starved out\nif we lose the command of the sea, the British Empire is very far from\nbeing over-populated. In Canada and Australasia there is probably room\nfor nearly 200,000,000 people. These countries are remarkably healthy\nfor Northern Europeans; there is no reason why they should not be as\nrich and powerful as the United States are now. We hope that we have\nsaved the Empire from German cupidity--for the time; but we cannot tell\nhow long we may be undisturbed. It would be criminal folly not to make\nthe most of the respite granted us, by peopling our Dominions with our\nown stock, while yet there is time. This, however, cannot be done by\ncasual and undirected emigration of the old kind. We need an Imperial\nBoard of Emigration, the officials of which will work in co-operation\nwith the Governments of our Dominions. These Governments, it may be\npresumed, will be anxious, after the war, to strengthen the colonies by\nincreasing their population and developing their resources. They, like\nourselves, have had a severe fright, and know that prompt action is\nnecessary. Systematic plans of colonisation should be worked out, and\nemigrants drafted off to the Dominions as work can be found for them.\nYoung women should be sent out in sufficient numbers to keep the sexes\nequal. We know now that our young people who emigrate are by no means\nlost to the Empire. The Dominions have shown that in time of need they\nare able and willing to defend the mother country with their full\nstrength. Indeed, a young couple who emigrate are likely to be of more\nvalue to the Empire than if they had stayed at home; and their chances\nof happiness are much increased if they find a home in a part of the\nworld where more human beings are wanted. But without official advice\nand help emigration is difficult. Parents do not know where to send\ntheir sons, nor what training to give them. Mistakes are made, money is\nwasted, and bitter disappointment caused. All this may be obviated if\nthe Government will take the matter up seriously. The real issue of this\nwar is whether our great colonies are to continue British; and the\nquestion will be decided not only on the field of battle, but by the\naction of our Government and people after peace is declared. The next\nfifty years will decide for all time whether those magnificent and still\nempty countries are to be the home of great nations speaking our\nlanguage, carrying on our institutions, and valuing our traditions. When\nthe future of our Dominions is secure, the part of England as a\nWorld-Power will have been played to a successful issue, and we may be\ncontent with a position more consonant with the small area of these\nislands.\n\nI believe, then, that if facilities for migration are given by\nGovernment action, it will be not only possible but desirable for the\nincrease in the population of the Empire, taken as a whole, to be\nmaintained during the twentieth century. It is, of course, possible that\nchemical discoveries and other scientific improvements may greatly\nincrease the yield of food from the soil, and that in this way the final\nlimit to the population of the earth may be further off than now seems\nprobable. But within a few centuries, at most, this limit must be\nreached; and after that we may hope that the world will agree to\nmaintain an equilibrium between births and deaths, that being the most\nstable and the happiest condition in which human beings can live\ntogether.[22]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [10] Myres, _Eugenics Review_, April, 1915.\n\n     [11] Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, _Kultur der Gegenwart_, 2, 4, 1.\n\n     [12] Cimon, Pericles, and Socrates all had three sons, and\n     apparently no daughters.--Zimmern, _The Greek Commonwealth_,\n     p. 331.\n\n     [13] _Cf. (e.g.)_ Plato, _Theaetetus_, 149.\n\n     [14] We may suppose that the disproportion of the sexes,\n     caused by female infanticide, was about rectified by the\n     deaths of males in battle and civic strife. We do not hear\n     that the Greek had any difficulty in finding a wife.\n\n     [15] Families, he says, were limited to one or two 'in order\n     to leave these rich.'\n\n     [16] The population of England and Wales is said to have\n     been 4,800,000 in 1600, and 6,500,000 in 1750. It was\n     8,890,000 in 1801, 32,530,000 in 1901, and approximately\n     37,000,000 in 1914.\n\n     [17] Statistics are wanting for the early part of the\n     industrial revolution, but my study of pedigrees leads me to\n     think that the average duration of life was considerably\n     increased in the eighteenth century.\n\n     [18] _The Family and the Nation_, p. 143.\n\n     [19] The births per 1000 married men under fifty-five in the\n     different classes are:--Upper and middle class, 119;\n     Intermediate, 132; Skilled workmen, 153; Intermediate, 158;\n     Unskilled workmen, 213.\n\n     [20] It must be remembered that the illegitimate birth-rate\n     in Berlin is scandalously high.\n\n     [21] The crude birth-rate of Ireland is wholly misleading,\n     because so many young couples emigrate before the birth of\n     their first child.\n\n     [22] The possible effect of the labour movement in\n     diminishing the population is considered in the next Essay.\n     The last two years have, in my opinion, made the outlook\n     less favourable.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FUTURE OF THE ENGLISH RACE\n\n(THE GALTON LECTURE, 1919)\n\n\nIn the year 1890 Sir Charles Dilke ended his survey of 'Greater Britain'\nand its problems with the prediction that 'the world's future belongs to\nthe Anglo-Saxon, the Russian, and the Chinese races.' This was in the\nheyday of British imperialism, which was inaugurated by Seeley's\n'Expansion of England' and Froude's 'Oceana,' and which inspired Mr.\nChamberlain to proclaim at Toronto in 1887 that the 'Anglo-Saxon stock\nis infallibly destined to be the predominant force in the history and\ncivilisation of the world.' It was an arrogant, but not truculent, mood,\nwhich reached its climax at the 1897 Jubilee, and rapidly declined\nduring and after the Boer war. These writers and statesmen were utterly\nblind to the German peril, though the disciples of Treitschke were\nalready working out a theory about the future destinies of the world, in\nwhich neither Great Britain nor Russia nor China counted for very much.\nThere were illusions on both sides of the North Sea, which had to be\npaid for in blood. In both countries imperialism was a sentiment\ncuriously compounded of idealism and bombast, and supported by very\ndoubtful science. In the case of Germany the distortion of facts was\ndeliberate and monstrous. Not only was every schoolboy brought up on\ncooked population statistics and falsified geography, but the thick-set,\nbrachycephalous Central European persuaded himself that he belonged to\nthe pure Nordic race, the great blond beasts of Nietzsche, which, as he\nwas taught, had already produced nearly all the great men in history,\nand was now about to claim its proper place as master of the world.\nPolitical anthropology is no genuine science. Race and nationality are\ncatchwords for which rulers find that their subjects are willing to\nfight, as they fought for what they called religion four hundred years\nago. In reality, if we want to find a pure race, we must visit the\nEsquimaux, or the Fuegians, or the Pygmies; we shall certainly not find\none in Europe. Our own imperialists had their illusions too, and we are\nnot rid of them yet, because we do not realise that the fate of races is\ndecided, not in the council-chamber or on the battle-field, but by the\nsame laws of nature which determine the distribution of the various\nplants and animals of the world. It may be that by approaching our\nsubject from this side we shall arrive at a more scientific, if a more\nchastened, anticipation of our national future than was acceptable to\nthe enthusiasts of expansion in the last twenty years of Queen\nVictoria's reign.\n\nThe history of the world shows us that there have been three great human\nreservoirs which from time to time have burst their banks and flooded\nneighbouring countries. These are the Arabian peninsula, the steppes of\nCentral Asia, and the lands round the Baltic, the original home of the\nGermanic and Anglo-Saxon peoples. The invaders in each case were\npastoral folk, who were driven from their homes by over-population, or\ndrought and famine, or the pressure of enemies behind them. It is easy\nfor nomads to 'trek,' even for great distances; and till the discovery\nof gunpowder they were the most formidable of foes. The Arabs and\nNorthern Europeans have founded great civilisations; the Mongol hordes\nhave been an unmitigated curse to humanity. The invaders never kept\ntheir blood pure. The famous Jewish nose is probably Hittite, and\ncertainly not Bedouin. There are no pure Turks in Europe, and the\nHungarians have lost all resemblance to Mongols. The modern Germans seem\nto belong mainly to the round-headed Alpine race, which migrated into\nEurope in early times from the Asiatic highlands. In England there is a\nlarger proportion of Nordic blood, because the Anglo-Saxons partially\nexterminated the natives; but the old Mediterranean race, which had\nmade its way up the warm western coasts, still holds its own in\nCornwall, Wales, Ireland, and the Western Highlands; and within the last\nhundred years, owing to frequent migrations, has mixed so thoroughly\nwith the Anglo-Saxon stock that the English are becoming darker in each\ngeneration. This is not the result of a racial decay of the blonds, as\nthe American, Dr. Charles Woodruff, supposes, but is to be accounted for\nby the fact that dark eyes seem to be a Mendelian dominant, and dark\nhair a more potent character than light. The inhabitants of these\nislands are nearly all long-headed, this being a characteristic of both\nthe Nordic and Mediterranean races. The round-headed invaders, who\nperhaps brought with them the so-called Celtic languages at a remote\nperiod, and imposed them upon the inhabitants, seem to have left no\nother mark upon the population, though their type of head is prevalent\nover a great part of France.\n\nThe ability of races to flourish in climates other than their own is a\nquestion of supreme importance to historians and statesmen, and, it need\nnot be said, to emigrants. But it is only lately that it has been\nstudied scientifically, and the results are still tentative. German\nethnologists, of what we may call the _aedicephalous_ school, already\nreferred to, regard it as one of the tragedies of nature that the noble\nNordic race, to which they think they belong, dies out when it\npenetrates southwards. In accordance with this law, the yellow-haired\nAchaeans decayed in Greece, the Lombards in North Italy, the Vandals in\nSpain and Africa. After a few generations of life in a warm climate the\nAryan stock invariably disappears. We shall show reasons for thinking\nthat this theory is much exaggerated; but there is undoubtedly some\ntruth in it. It has been found to be impossible for white men to\ncolonise India, Burma, tropical America, and West Africa. It has been\nsaid that 'there is in India no third generation of pure English blood.'\nIt is notoriously difficult to bring up even one generation of white\nchildren in India. The French cannot maintain themselves without race\nadmixture in Martinique and Guadaloupe, nor the Dutch in Java, though\nit is said that the expectation of life for a European in Java is as\ngood as in his own country. It seems to be also true that the blond race\nsuffers most in a hot climate. In the Philippines it was observed that\nthe fair-haired soldiers in the American army succumbed most readily to\ndisease. In Queensland the Italian colonists are said to stand the heat\nbetter than the English, and Mr. Roosevelt, among other items of good\nadvice which he bestowed so liberally on the European nations, advised\nus to populate the torrid parts of Australia with immigrants from the\nLatin races. In Natal the English families who are settled in the\ncountry are said to be enervated by the climate; and on the high\nplateaux of the interior our countrymen find it necessary to pay\nperiodical visits to the coast, to be unbraced. The early deaths and not\ninfrequent suicides of Rand magnates may indicate that the air of the\nTransvaal is too stimulating for a life of high tension and excitement.\nThere are even signs that the same may be true in a minor degree of the\nUnited States of America. Both the capitalist and the working man, if\nthey come of English stock, seem to wear out more quickly than at home;\nand the sterility of marriages among the long settled American families\nis so pronounced that it can hardly be due entirely to voluntary\nrestriction of parentage. The effects of an unsuitable climate are\nespecially shown in nervous disorders, and are therefore likely to tell\nmost heavily on those who engage in intellectual pursuits, and perhaps\non women rather more than on men. The sterilising effects of women's\nhigher education in America are incontrovertible, though this inference\nis hotly denied in England. At Holyoake College it was found that only\nhalf the lady graduates afterwards married, and the average family of\nthose who did marry was less than two children. At Bryn Mawr only 43 per\ncent, married, and had 0.84 children each; the average family per\ngraduate was therefore 0.37. If it be objected that new immigrants and\ntheir children are healthy and vigorous in America, it may be truly\nanswered that the effects of an unfavourable climate are manifested\nfully only in the third and later generations. The argument may be\nfurther supported by the fate of black men who try to settle in Europe.\nTheir strongly pigmented skin, which seems to protect them from the\nactinic rays of the tropical sun, so noxious to Europeans, and their\nbroad nostrils, which inhale a larger number of tubercle bacilli than\nthe narrow nose-slits of the Northerner, are disadvantages in a\ntemperate climate. In any case, of the many thousands of negro servants\nwho lived in England in the eighteenth century, it would be difficult to\nfind a single descendant.\n\nBut there are other factors in the problem which should make us beware\nof hasty generalisations. It is obvious that since the American Republic\ncontains many climates in its vast area, there may be parts of it which\nare perfectly healthy for Anglo-Saxons, and other parts where they\ncannot live without degenerating. Very few athletes, we are told, come\nfrom south of the fortieth parallel of latitude. But the decline in the\nbirth-rate is most marked in the older colonies, the New England States,\nwhere for a long period the English colonists, living mainly on the\nland, not only throve and developed a singularly virile type of\nhumanity, but multiplied with almost unexampled rapidity. The same is\ntrue not only of the French Canadian farmers, but of the South African\nBoers, who rear enormous families in a climate very different from that\nof Holland. The inference is that Europeans living on the land may\nflourish in any tolerably healthy climate which is not tropical.\n\nThere are, in fact, two other causes besides climate which may prevent\nimmigrants from multiplying in a new country. The first of these is the\npresence of microbic diseases to which the old inhabitants are wholly or\npartially immune, but which find a virgin soil in the bodies of the\nnewcomers. The strongest example is the West Coast of Africa, of which\nMiss Mary Kingsley writes: 'Yet remember, before you elect to cast your\nlot with the West Coasters, that 85 per cent, of them die of fever, or\nreturn home with their health permanently wrecked. Also remember that\nthere is no getting acclimatised to the Coast. There are, it is true, a\nfew men out there who, although they have been resident in West Africa\nfor years, have never had fever, but you can count them on the fingers\nof one hand.' There can be no acclimatisation where the weeding out is\nas drastic as this. Either the anopheles mosquito or the European must\nquit. There are parts of tropical America where the natives have\nactually been protected by the malaria, which keeps the white man at\narm's length. But more often the microbe is on the side of the civilised\nrace, killing off the natives who have not run the gauntlet of\ntown-life. The extreme reluctance of the barbarians who overran the\nRoman Empire to settle in the towns is easily accounted for if, as is\nprobable, the towns killed them off whenever they attempted to live in\nthem. The difference is remarkable between the fate of a conquered race\nwhich has become accustomed to town-life, and that of one which has not.\nThere are no 'native quarters' in the towns of any country where the\naborigines were nomads or tillers of the soil. To the North American\nIndian, residence in a town is a sentence of death. The American Indians\nwere accustomed to none of our zymotic diseases except malaria. In the\nnorth they were destroyed wholesale by tuberculosis; in Mexico and Peru,\nwhere large towns existed before the conquest, they fared better. Fiji\nwas devastated by measles; other barbarians by small-pox. Negroes have\nacquired, through severe natural selection, a certain degree of\nimmunisation in America; but even now it is said that 'every other negro\ndies of consumption.' There are, however, two races, both long\naccustomed to town-life under horribly insanitary conditions, which have\nshown that they can live in almost any climate. These are the Jews and\nthe Chinese. The medieval Ghetto exterminated all who were not naturally\nresistant to every form of microbic disease; the modern Jew, though\noften of poor physique, is hard to kill. The same may be said of the\nChinaman, who, when at home, lives under conditions which would kill\nmost Europeans.\n\nThe other factor, which is really promoting the gradual disappearance of\nthe Anglo-Saxons from the United States, is of a very different\ncharacter. The descendants of the old immigrants are on the whole the\naristocracy of the country. Now it is a law which hardly admits of\nexceptions, that aristocracies do not maintain their numbers. The ruling\nrace rules itself out; nothing fails like success. Gibbon has called\nattention to the extreme respect paid to long descent in the Roman\nEmpire, and to the strange fact that, in the fourth century, no\ningenuity of pedigree makers could deny that all the great families of\nthe Republic were extinct, so that the second-rate plebeian family of\nthe Anicii, whose name did appear in the Fasti, enjoyed a prestige far\ngreater than that of the Howards and Stanleys in this country. Our own\npeerage consists chiefly of parvenus. Only six of our noble families, it\nis said, can trace their descent in the male line without a break to the\nfifteenth century. The peerage of Sweden tells the same tale. According\nto Gallon, the custom or law of primogeniture, combined with the habit\nof marrying heiresses who, as the last representatives of dwindling\nfamilies, tend to be barren, is mainly responsible for this. Additional\ncauses may be the greater danger which the officer-class incurs in war,\nand, in former times, the executioner's axe. In our own day the\nreluctance of rich and self-indulgent women to bear children is\nundoubtedly a factor in the infertility of the leisured class.\n\nThis brings us naturally to the second part of our discussion--the\nconsideration of the causes which lead to the increase or decrease of\npopulation. It is the most important part of our inquiry; for it is\nusually assumed that the British Isles will continue to send out\ncolonists in large numbers, as it did in the last century, and the hopes\nof the imperialist that a large part of the world will speak English for\nall time depend on the untested assurance that the swarming-time of our\nrace is not yet over. Our starting-point must be that the pressure of\npopulation upon the means of subsistence is a constant fact in the human\nrace, as in every other species of animals and plants. There is no\nspecies in which the numbers are not kept down, far below the natural\ncapacity for increase, by the limitation of available food. It may not\nalways be easy to trace the connection between the appearance of new\nlives and the passing away of old, nor to say whether it is the\nbirth-rate which determines the death-rate, or the death-rate the\nbirth-rate. But it is well known that, wherever statistics are kept, the\nnumbers of births and of deaths rise and fall in nearly parallel lines,\nso that the net rate of increase hardly alters at all, unless some\nchange, which can easily be traced, occurs in the habits of the people\nor in the amount of the food supply. In civilised countries the greater\ncare taken of human life, and its consequent prolongation, has reduced\nthe birth-rate, just as in the higher mammals we find a greatly\ndiminished fertility as compared with the lower, and a much higher\nsurvival-rate among the offspring born. The average duration of life in\nthis country has increased by about one-third in the last sixty years,\nand the birth-rate has fallen in almost exactly the same proportion. The\nposition of a nation in the scale of civilisation may almost be gauged\nby its births and deaths. The order in Europe, beginning with the lowest\nbirth-rate, is France, Belgium, Sweden, the United Kingdom, Switzerland,\nNorway, Denmark, Holland, Germany, Spain, Austria, Italy, Hungary, the\nBalkan States, Russia. The order of death-rates, again beginning at the\nbottom, is Holland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, the United\nKingdom, Belgium, Germany, France, Italy, Austria, Serbia, Spain,\nBulgaria, Hungary, Roumania, Russia. These two lists, as will be seen,\ncorrespond very nearly with the scale of descending civilisation, the\nonly notable exception being the low position of France in the second\nlist. This anomaly is explained by the fact that France having a\nstationary population, the death-rate in that country corresponds nearly\nwith the mean expectation of life, whereas in countries where the\npopulation is increasing rapidly, either by excess of births over deaths\nor by immigration, the preponderance of young lives brings the\ndeath-rate down. We must, therefore, be on our guard against supposing\nthat countries with the lowest death-rates are necessarily the most\nhealthy. In New Zealand, for example, the death-rate is under 10 per\n1000, the lowest in the world; and though that country is undoubtedly\nhealthy, no one supposes that the average duration of life in New\nZealand is a hundred years. To ascertain whether a nation is long-lived,\nwe must correct the crude death-rate by taking into account the average\nage of the population. When this correction has been made, a low\ndeath-rate, and the low birth-rate which necessarily accompanies it, is\na sign that the doctors are doing their duty by keeping their patients\nalive. If our physicians desire more maternity cases, they must make\nmore work for the undertaker. Large families almost always mean a high\ninfant mortality; and it is significant that a twelfth child has a very\nmuch poorer chance of survival than a first or second. The agitation for\nthe endowment of motherhood and the reduction of infant mortality is\ntherefore futile, because, while other conditions remain the same, every\nbaby 'saved' sends another baby out of the world or prevents him from\ncoming into it. The number of the people is not determined by\nphilanthropists or even by parents. Children will come somehow whenever\nthere is room for them, and go when there is none. But other conditions\ndo not remain the same, and it is in these other conditions that we must\nseek the causes of expansion or contraction in the numbers of a\ncommunity.\n\nAt the end of the sixteenth century the population of England and Wales\namounted to about five millions, and a hundred years later to about six.\nThere is no reason to think that under the conditions then existing the\ncountry could have supported a larger number. The birth-rate was kept\nhigh by the pestilential state of the towns, and thus the pressure of\nnumbers was less felt than it is now, since it was possible to have,\nthough not to rear, unlimited families. Occasionally, from accidental\ncircumstances, England was for a short time under-populated, and these\nwere the periods when, according to Professor Thorold Rogers, Archdeacon\nCunningham, and other authorities, the labourer was well off. The most\nstriking example was in the half-century after the Black Death, which\ncarried off nearly half the population. Wages increased threefold, and\nthe Government tried in vain to protect employers by enforcing\npre-plague rates. Not only were wages high, but food was so abundant\nthat farmers often gave their men a square meal which was not in the\ncontract. The other period of prosperity for the working man, according\nto our authorities, was the second quarter of the eighteenth century. It\nhas not, we think, been noticed that this also followed a temporary\nset-back in the population. In 1688 the population of England and Wales\nwas 5,500,520; in 1710 it was more than a quarter of a million less. The\ncause of this decline is obscure, but its effects soon showed themselves\nin easier conditions of life, especially for the poor. Such periods of\nunder-saturation, which some new countries are still enjoying, are\nnecessarily short. Population flows in as naturally as water finds its\nlevel.\n\nIt was not till the accession of George III that the increase in our\nnumbers became rapid. No one until then would have thought of singling\nout the Englishman as the embodiment of the good apprentice. Meteren, in\nthe sixteenth century, found our countrymen 'as lazy as Spaniards'; most\nforeigners were struck by our fondness for solid food and strong drink.\nThe industrial revolution came upon us suddenly; it changed the whole\nface of the country and the apparent character of the people. In the far\nfuture our descendants may look back upon the period in which we are\nliving as a strange episode which disturbed the natural habits of our\nrace. The first impetus was given by the plunder of Bengal, which, after\nthe victories of Clive, flowed into the country in a broad stream for\nabout thirty years. This ill-gotten wealth played the same part in\nstimulating English industries as the 'five milliards,' extorted from\nFrance, did for Germany after 1870. The half-century which followed was\nmarked by a series of inventions, which made England the workshop of the\nworld. But the basis of our industrial supremacy was, and is, our coal.\nThose who are in the habit of comparing the progressiveness of the\nNorth-Western European with the stagnation or decadence of the Latin\nraces, forget the fact, which is obvious when it has once been pointed\nout, that the progressive nations are those which happen to have\nvaluable coal fields. Countries which have no coal are obliged to\nimport it paying the freight, or to smelt their iron with charcoal This\nprocess makes excellent steel--the superiority of Swedish razors is due\nto wood-smelting--but it is so wasteful of wood that the Mediterranean\npeoples very early in history injured their climate by cutting down\ntheir scanty forests, thereby diminishing their rainfall, and allowing\nthe soil to be washed off the hillsides. The coasts of the Mediterranean\nare, in consequence, far less productive than they were two thousand\nyears ago. But in England, when the start was once made, all\ncircumstances conspired to turn our once beautiful island into a chaos\nof factories and mean streets, reeking of smoke, millionaires, and\npaupers. We were no longer able to grow our own food; but we made masses\nof goods which the manufacturers ware eager to exchange for it; and the\npopulation grew like crops on a newly-irrigated desert. During the\nnineteenth century the numbers were nearly quadrupled. Let those who\nthink that the population of a country can be increased at will, reflect\nwhether it is likely that any physical, moral, or psychological change\ncame over the nation coincidently with the inventions of the\nspinning-jenny and the steam-engine. It is too obvious for dispute that\nit was the possession of capital wanting employment, and of natural\nadvantages for using it, that called these multitudes of human beings\ninto existence, to eat the food which they paid for by their labour. And\nit should be equally obvious that the existence of forty-six millions of\npeople upon 121,000 square miles of territory depends entirely upon our\nfinding a market for our manufactures abroad, for so only are we able to\npay for the food of the people. It is most unfortunate that these\nexports must, with our present population, include coal, which, if we\nhad any thought for posterity, we should guard jealously and use\nsparingly; for in five hundred years at the outside our stock will be\ngone, and we shall sink to a third-rate Power at once. We are\nsacrificing the future in order to provide for an excessive and\ndiscontented population in the present. During the present century we\nhave begun to be conscious that our foreign trade is threatened; and so\nsensitive is the birth-rate to economic conditions that it has begun to\ncurve very slightly downward in relation to the death-rate, instead of\ndescending with it in parallel lines.[23] This may be partly due to the\ncurtailment of facilities for emigration, owing to the filling up of the\nnew countries. For emigration does not diminish the population of the\ncountry which the emigrants leave; it only increases its birth-rate.\n\nWe are now in a position to enumerate the causes which actually lead to\nan increase in the population of a country. The first is an increase in\nthe amount of food produced in the country itself. If the parks and\ngardens of the gentry were ploughed up or turned into allotments, a few\nhundred thousands would be added to the population of the United\nKingdom, at the cost of one of the few remaining beauties which make our\ncountry attractive to the eye. The introduction of the potato into\nIreland added several millions of squalid inhabitants to that\nill-conditioned island, and when the crop failed, large numbers of them\ninflicted themselves on the United States, to the detriment of that\ncountry. The richest countries to-day are those which produce more food\nthan they require, such as the United States, Canada, Australia,\nRoumania, and the Argentine. (We need hardly say that throughout this\nsurvey we are using the statistics of the years immediately before the\nwar.) But this state of things cannot last long, for the net increase in\nsuch countries is invariably high, either by reason of a very high\nbirth-rate, as in Roumania, or because newcomers flock in to enjoy a\nland of plenty. Another condition which leads to abnormally rapid\nincrease is found when a civilised nation conquers and administers a\nbackward country, introducing better methods of agriculture, and\nespecially irrigation and the reclamation of waste lands. The alien\nGovernment also gives greater security, without raising the standard of\nliving among the natives, since the dominant race usually monopolises\nthe lucrative careers. In this way we are directly responsible for\nincreasing the population of Egypt from seven millions in 1883 to nine\nand three-quarter millions in 1899, an augmentation which, in the\nabsence of immigration, illustrates the great natural fertility of the\nhuman race in the rare circumstances when unchecked increase is\npossible. Still more remarkable is the rise in the population of Java\nfrom five millions in 1825 to twenty-eight and a half millions in the\nfirst decade of this century. The cause of this increase is the\naugmented supply of food combined with a very low standard of living, a\ncombination which is specially characteristic of Asia, where extreme\nsupersaturation exists in India and China. A third cause is production\nof goods which can be exchanged for food grown abroad. This exchange, as\nwe have seen, is stimulated by the presence of capital seeking\nemployment. Our large towns are the creation of the capitalist, much\nmore than if he had populated their depressing streets with his own\nchildren. Fourthly, a reduction in the standard of living of course\nmakes a larger population possible. The misery of the working class in\nthe generation after the Napoleonic Wars was a condition of the\nprosperity of our export trade at this period; and conversely, the\nprosperity of our export trade was necessary to the existence of the new\ninhabitants. Capitalism is the cause of our dense population; and the\nproletariat would infallibly cut their own throats by destroying it.\n\nIt is an important question whether a crowded population adds to the\nsecurity of a nation or not. Numbers are undoubtedly of great importance\nin modern warfare. The French would have been less able to resist the\nGermans without allies in 1914 than they were in 1870. But we must not\nsuppose that France could support a much larger population without\nreducing her standard of living to the point of under-deeding; and an\nunder-fed nation is incapable of the endurance required of first-class\nsoldiers. A nation may be so much weakened in physique by under-feeding\nas to be impotent from a military point of view, in spite of great\nnumbers; this is the case in India and China. Deficient nourishment also\ndiminishes the day's work. If European and American capital goes to\nChina, and provides proper food for the workmen, we may have an early\nopportunity of discovering whether the supporters of the League of\nNations have any real conscientious objection to violence and bloodshed.\nWe may surmise that the European man, the fiercest of all beasts of\nprey, is not likely to abandon the weapons which have made him the lord\nand the bully of the planet. He has no other superiority to the races\nwhich he arrogantly despises. Under a regime of peace the Asiatic would\nprobably be his master. To return from a short digression, we must note\nfurther that a nation with a low standard has no reserve to fall back\nupon; it lives on the margin of subsistence, which may easily fail in\nwar-time, especially if much food is imported when conditions are\nnormal. It can hardly be an accident that in this war the nations with a\nhigh birth-rate broke up in the order of their fecundity, while France\nstood like a rock. The sacrifice of comfort to numbers, which we have\nseen to be possible by maintaining a low standard of living, not only\ndiminishes the happiness of a nation, and keeps it low in the scale of\ncivilisation; it may easily prove to be a source of weakness in war.\n\nThe expedients often advocated to encourage denser population--which\nthose who urge them thoughtlessly assume to be a good thing--such as\nendowment of parenthood, and better housing at the expense of the\ntaxpayer--have no effect except to penalise and sterilise those who pay\nthe doles, for the benefit of those who receive them. They are intensely\ndysgenic in their operation, for they cripple and at last eliminate just\nthose stocks which have shown themselves to be above the average in\nability. The process has already advanced a long way, even without the\nreckless legislation which is now advocated. The lowest birth-rates,\nless than half that of the unskilled labourers, are those of the\ndoctors, the teaching profession, and ministers of religion. The\nposition of this class, intellectually and often physically the finest\nin the kingdom, is rapidly becoming intolerable, and it is the wastrels\nwho mainly benefit by their spoliation.\n\nThe causes of shrinkage in population are the opposites of those which\nwe have found to promote its increase. The production of food may be\ndiminished by the exhaustion of the soil, or by the progressive aridity\ncaused by cutting down woods. The manufacture of goods to be exchanged\nfor food may fall off owing to foreign competition, a result which is\nlikely to follow from a rise in the standard of living, for the labourer\nthen demands higher wages, and consumes more food per head, which of\nitself must check fertility, since the same amount of food will now\nsupport a smaller number. The delusion shared by the whole working class\nthat they can make work for each other, at wages fixed by themselves, is\nludicrous; a community cannot subsist 'by taking in each other's\nwashing.' Or the supply of importable food may fail by the peopling up\nof the countries which grow it. Any conditions which make it no longer\nworth while to invest capital in business, or which destroy credit, have\nthe same effect. One of the causes of the decay of the Roman Empire was\nthe drain of specie to the East in exchange for perishable commodities.\nWhen trade is declining a general listlessness comes over the industrial\nworld, and the output falls still further. There have been alleged\ninstances of peoples which have dwindled and even disappeared from\n_taedium vitae_. This is said to have been the cause of the extinction\nof the Guanches of the Canary Islands; but the symptoms described rather\nsuggest an outbreak of sleeping-sickness.\n\nParadoxical as it may seem, neither voluntary restriction of births, nor\nfamine, nor pestilence, nor war, has much effect in reducing numbers.\nBirth-control instead of diminishing the population, may only lower the\ndeath-rate. France in 1781, with a birth-rate of 39, had much the same\nnet increase as in the years before the war with a birth-rate of 20. The\nparallel lines of the births and deaths in this country have already\nbeen mentioned. Famine and pestilence are followed at once by an\nincreased number of births. India and China, though frequently ravaged\nby both these scourges, remain super-saturated. Of course, if the famine\nis chronic, the population must fall to the point where the food is\nsufficient; and a zymotic disease which has become endemic may be too\nstrong for the natural fertility of the nation attacked, as has happened\nto several barbarous races; but an invasion of plague, cholera, or\ninfluenza has no permanent effect on the numbers of Europeans. War\nresembles plague in its action upon population. When, as in the late\nwar, nearly the whole of the able-bodied men are on active service, the\nloss of population caused by cessation of births is greater than all the\nfatal casualties of the battle-field. A rough calculation gives the\nresult that twelve million lives have been lost to the belligerent\nnations by the separation of husbands and wives during the war. And yet\nit may be predicted that these losses, added to the eight millions or so\nwho have been killed, would be made good in a very few years but for the\ndestruction of capital and credit which the war has caused. If we study\nthe vital statistics of a country like Germany, which has engaged in\nseveral severe wars since births and deaths began to be registered, we\nshall find that the contour-line representing the fluctuations of the\nbirth-rate indicates a steep ravine in the year or years while the war\nlasted, followed by a hump or high table-land for several years after.\nIn a short time, as far as numbers are concerned, the war is as if it\nhad never been. When we remember that the number of possible fathers is\nmuch reduced by casualties, this rise in the birth-rate after a war\noffers a strong confirmation of the thesis which we have been\nmaintaining, that the ebb and flow of population are not affected by\nconscious intention, but by increased or diminished pressure of numbers\nupon subsistence. If the German people, who before the war consumed more\nfood than was good for them, have been habituated by our blockade to a\nreasonable abstemiousness, we shall have contributed to the eventual\nincrease of the German people, in spite of all their soldiers whom we\nkilled in France, and the civilians whom we starved in Germany. And if\nour success leads to a greater consumption by our working class, our\npopulation will show a corresponding decline. Emigration, as we have\nseen, does not diminish the home population by a single unit; and so,\nwhile there are empty lands available for colonisation, it is by far the\nbest method of adding to the numbers of our race.\n\nIt should now be possible to form a judgment on the prospects of the\nAnglo-Saxon race in various parts of the world. In India, Burma, New\nGuinea, the West Indian Islands, and tropical Africa there is no\npossibility of ever planting a healthy European population. These\ndependencies may grow food for us, or send us articles which we can\nexchange for food, but they are not, and never can be, colonies of\nAnglo-Saxons. The prospects of South Africa are very dubious. The white\nman is there an aristocrat, directing semi-servile labour. The white\npopulation of the gold and diamond fields will stay there till the mines\ngive out, and no longer. Large tracts of the country may at last be\noccupied only by Kaffirs. The United States of America are becoming less\nAnglo-Saxon every year, and this process is likely to continue, since in\nunskilled labour the Italian and the Pole seem to give better value for\ntheir wages than the Englishman or born American, with his high standard\nof comfort. In Canada, the temperate part of Australia, New Zealand, and\nTasmania the chances for a large and flourishing English-speaking\npopulation seem to be very favourable, though in these dominions the\nhigh standard of living is a check to population, and in the case of\nAustralasia the possibility of foreign conquest, while these priceless\nlands are still half empty, cannot be altogether excluded.\n\nEven more interesting to most of us is the future of our race at home.\nAs regards quality, the outlook for the present is bad. We have seen\nthat the destruction of the upper and professional classes by taxation\ndirected expressly against them has already begun, and this\nvictimisation is certain to become more and more acute, till these\nclasses are practically extinguished. The old aristocracy showed a\ntendency to decay even when they were unduly favoured by legislation,\nand a little more pressure will drive them to voluntary sterility and\nextermination. Even more to be regretted is the doom of the professional\naristocracy, a caste almost peculiar to our country. These families can\noften show longer, and usually much better pedigrees than the peerage;\nthe persistence of marked ability in many of them, for several\ngenerations, is the delight of the eugenist. They are perhaps the best\nspecimens of humanity to be found in any country of the world. Yet they\nhave no prospects except to be gradually harassed out of existence, like\nthe _curiales_ of the later Roman Empire. The power will apparently be\ngrasped by a new highly privileged class, the aristocracy of labour.\nThis class, being intelligent, energetic, and intensely selfish, may\nretain its domination for a considerable time. It is a matter of course\nthat, having won its privilege of exploiting the community, it will use\nall its efforts to preserve that privilege and to prevent others from\nsharing it. In other words, it will become an exclusive and strongly\nconservative class, on a broader basis than the territorial and\ncommercial aristocracies which preceded it. It will probably be strong\nenough to discontinue the system of State doles which encourages the\nwastrel to multiply, as he does multiply, much faster than the valuable\npart of the population. We are at present breeding a large parasitic\nclass subsisting on the taxes and hampering the Government. The\ncomparative fertility of the lowest class as compared with the better\nstocks has greatly increased, and is still increasing. The competent\nworking-class families, as well as the rich, are far less fertile than\nthe waste products of our civilisation. Dr. Tredgold found that 43\ncouples of the parasitic class averaged 7.4 children per family, while\n91 respectable couples from the working class averaged only 3.7 per\nfamily. Mr. Sidney Webb examined the statistics of the Hearts of Oak\nBenefit Society, which is patronised by the best type of mechanic, and\nfound that the birth-rate among its members has fallen 46 per cent,\nbetween 1881 and 1901; or, taking the whole period between 1880 and\n1904, the falling off is 52 per cent. This decline proves that the\nperiod of industrial expansion in England is nearly over. It would be\nfar better if our birth-rate were as low as that of France, as it would\nbe but for the reckless propagation of the 'submerged tenth,' England\nbeing now a paradise for human refuse, the offscourings of Europe\n(170,000 in 1908) take the place of the better stocks, whose position is\nmade artificially unfavourable. These doles are at present paid by the\nminority, and this method may be expected to continue until the looting\nof the propertied classes comes to an enforced end. This will not take\nlong, for it is certain that the amount of wealth available for plunder\nis very much smaller than is usually supposed. It is easy to destroy\ncapital values, but very difficult to distribute them. The time will\nsoon arrive when the patient sheep will be found to have lost not only\nhis fleece but his skin, and the privileged workman will then have to\nchoose between taxing himself and abandoning socialism. There is little\ndoubt which he will prefer. The result will be that the festering sore\nof our slum-population will dry up, and the gradual disappearance of\nthis element will be some compensation, from the eugenic point of view,\nfor the destruction of the intellectual class. This process will\nconsiderably, and beneficially, diminish the population: and there are\nseveral other factors which will operate in the same direction. High\nwage industry can only maintain itself against the competition of\ncheaper labour abroad by introducing every kind of labour-saving device.\nThe number of hands employed in a factory must progressively diminish.\nAnd as, in spite of all that ingenuity can do, the competition of the\ncheaper races is certain to cripple our foreign trade, the trade unions\nwill be obliged to provide for a shrinkage in their numbers. We may\nexpect that every unionist will be allowed to place one son, and only\none, in the privileged corporation. A man will become a miner or a\nrailwayman 'by patrimony,' and it will be difficult to gain admission to\na union in any other way. The position of those who cannot find a place\nwithin the privileged circle will be so unhappy that most unionists will\ntake care to have one son only. Another change which will tend to\ndiscourage families will be the increased employment of women as\nbread-winners. Nothing is more remarkable in the study of vital\nstatistics than the comparative birth-rates of those districts in which\nwomen earn wages, and of those in which they do not. The rate of\nincrease among the miners is as great as that of the reckless casual\nlabourers, and the obvious reason is that the miner's wife loses nothing\nby having children, since she does not earn wages. Contrast with these\nhigh figures (running up to 40 per thousand) the very low birth-rates of\ntowns like Bradford, where the women are engaged in the textile industry\nand earn regular wages in support of the family budget. If the time\ncomes when the majority of women are wage-earners, we may even see the\npressure of population entirely withdrawn. Thus in every class of the\nnation influences are at work tending to a progressive decrease in our\nnational fertility. It must be remembered, however, that at present the\nannual increase, in peace time, is 9 or 10 per thousand, so that it may\nbe some time before an equilibrium is reached. But if our predictions\nare sound, a positive decrease, and probably a rapid one, is likely to\nfollow. For our ability to exchange our manufactures for food will grow\nsteadily less, as the self-indulgent and 'work-shy' labourer succeeds in\ngaining his wishes. If the coal begins to give out, the retreat will\nbecome a rout.\n\nWe are witnessing the decline and fall of the social order which began\nwith the industrial revolution 160 years ago. The cancer of\nindustrialism has begun to mortify, and the end is in sight. Within 200\nyears, it may be--for we must allow for backwashes and cross-currents\nwhich will retard the flow of the stream--the hideous new towns which\ndisfigure our landscape may have disappeared, and their sites may have\nbeen reclaimed for the plough. Humanitarian legislation, so far from\narresting this movement, is more likely to accelerate it, and the same\nmay be said of the insatiate greed of our new masters. It is indeed\ninstructive to observe how cupidity and sentiment, which (with\npugnacity) are the only passions which the practical politician needs to\nconsider, usually defeat their own ends. The working man is sawing at\nthe branch on which he is seated. He may benefit for a time a minority\nof his own class, but only by sealing the doom of the rest. A densely\npopulated country, which is unable to feed itself, can never be a\nworking-man's paradise, a land of short hours and high wages. And the\nsentimentalist, kind only to be cruel, unwittingly promotes precisely\nthe results which he most deprecates, though they are often much more\nbeneficial than his own aims. The evil that he would he does not; and\nthe good that he would not, that he sometimes does.\n\nFor, much as we must regret the apparently inevitable ruin of the upper\nand upper middle classes, to which England in the past has owed the\nmajor part of her greatness, we cannot regard the trend of events as an\nunmixed misfortune. The industrial revolution has no doubt had some\nbeneficial results. It has founded the British Empire, the most\ninteresting and perhaps the most successful experiment in government on\na large scale that the world has yet seen. It has foiled two formidable\nattempts to place Europe under the heel of military monarchies. It has\nbrought order and material civilisation to many parts of the world which\nbefore were barbarous. But these achievements have been counterbalanced\nby many evils, and in any case they have done their work. The\naggregation of mankind in large towns is itself a misfortune; the life\nof great cities is wholesome neither for body nor for mind. The\nseparation of classes has become more complete; the country may even be\ndivided into the picturesque counties where money is spent, and the ugly\ncounties where it is made. Except London and the sea-ports, the whole of\nthe South of England is more or less parasitic. We must add that in the\nearly days of the movement the workman and his children were exploited\nruthlessly. It is true that if they had not been exploited they would\nnot have existed; but a root of bitterness was planted which, according\nto what seems to be the law in such cases, sprang up and bore its\npoisonous fruit about two generations later. It is a sinister fact that\nthe worst trouble is now made by the youngest men. The large fortunes\nwhich were made by the manufacturers were not, on the whole, well spent.\nTheir luxury was not of a refined type; literature and art were not\nintelligently encouraged; and even science was most inadequately\nsupported. The great achievements of the nineteenth century in science\nand letters, and to a less degree in art, were independent of the\nindustrial world, and were chiefly the work of that class which is now\nsinking helplessly under the blows of predatory taxation. Capitalism\nitself has degenerated; the typical millionaire is no longer the captain\nof industry, but the international banker and company promoter. It is\nmore difficult than ever to find any rational justification for the\naccumulations which are in the hands of a few persons. It is not to be\nexpected that the working class should be less greedy and unscrupulous\nthan the educated; indeed it is plain that, now that it realises its\npower, it will be even more so. In some ways the national character has\nstood the strain of these unnatural conditions very well. Those who\nfeared that the modern Englishman would make a poor soldier have had to\nown that they were entirely wrong. But as long as industrialism\ncontinues, we shall be in a state of thinly disguised civil war. There\ncan be no industrial peace while our urban population remains, because\nthe large towns are the creation of the system which their inhabitants\nnow want to destroy. They can and will destroy it, but only by\ndestroying themselves. When the suicidal war is over we shall have a\ncomparatively small population, living mainly in the country and\ncultivating the fruits of the earth. It will be more like the England of\nthe eighteenth century than the England which we know. There will be no\nvery rich men; and if the birth-rate is regulated there should be no\npaupers. It will be a far pleasanter age to live in than the present,\nand more favourable to the production of great intellectual work, for\nlife will be more leisurely, and social conditions more stable. We may\nhope that some of our best families will determine to survive, _coute\nque coute_, until these better times arrive. We shall not attempt to\nprophesy what the political constitution will be. Every existing form of\ngovernment is bad; and our democracy can hardly survive the two diseases\nwhich generally kill democracies--reckless plunder of the national\nwealth, and the impotence of the central government in face of\nrevolutionary and predatory sectionalism.\n\nMeanwhile, we must understand that although the consideration of mankind\nin the mass, and the calculation of tendencies based on figures and\naverages, must lead us to somewhat pessimistic and cynical views of\nhuman nature, there is no reason why individuals, unless they wish to\nmake a career out of politics (since it is the sad fate of politicians\nalways to deal with human nature at its worst), should conform\nthemselves to the low standards of the world around them. It is only 'in\nthe loomp' that humanity, whether poor or rich, 'is bad.' There are\nmaterials, though far less abundant than we could wish, for a spiritual\nreformation, which would smooth the transition to a new social order,\nand open to us unfailing sources of happiness and inspiration, which\nwould not only enable us to tide over the period of dissolution, but\nmight make the whole world our debtor. No nation is better endowed by\nnature with a faculty for sane idealism than the English. We were never\nintended to be a nation of shopkeepers, if a shopkeeper is doomed to be\nmerely a shopkeeper, which of course he is not. Our brutal commercialism\nhas been a temporary aberration; the quintessential Englishman is not\nthe hero of Smiles' 'Self-help'; he is Raleigh, Drake, Shakespeare,\nMilton, Johnson, or Wordsworth, with a pleasant spice of Dickens. He is,\nin a word, an idealist who has not quite forgotten that he is descended\nfrom an independent race of sea-rovers, accustomed to think and act for\nthemselves. Mr. Havelock Ellis, one of the wisest and most fearless of\nour prophets to-day, quotes from an anonymous journalist a prediction\nwhich may come true: 'London may yet be the spiritual capital of the\nworld; while Asia--rich in all that gold can buy and guns can give, lord\nof lands and bodies, builder of railways and promulgator of police\nregulations, glorious in all material glories--postures, complacent and\nobtuse, before a Europe content in the possession of all that matters.'\nFor, as the Greek poet says, 'the soul's wealth is the only real\nwealth.' The spirit creates values, while the demagogue shrieks to\ntransfer the dead symbols of them. 'All that matters' is what the world\ncan neither give nor take away. The spiritual integration of society\nwhich we desire and behold afar off must be illuminated by the dry light\nof science, and warmed by the rays of idealism, a white light but not\ncold. And idealism must be compacted as a religion, for it is the\nfunction of religion to prevent the fruits of the flowering-times of the\nspirit from being lost. Science has not yet come to its own in forming\nthe beliefs and practice of mankind, because it has been so much\nexcluded from higher education, and so much repressed by sentimentalism\nunder the wing of religion. The nation that first finds a practical\nreconciliation between science and idealism is likely to take the front\nplace among the peoples of the world. In England we have to struggle not\nonly against ignorance, but against a deep-rooted intellectual\ninsincerity, which is our worst national fault. The Englishman hates an\nidea which he has never met before, as he hates the disturber of his\nprivacy in a steam-ship cabin; and he takes opportunities of making\nthings unpleasant for those who utter indiscreet truths. As Samuel\nButler says: 'We hold it useful to have a certain number of melancholy\nexamples whose notorious failure shall serve as a warning to those who\ndo not cultivate a power of immoral self-control which shall prevent\nthem from saying, or even thinking, anything that shall not be to their\nimmediate and palpable advantage.' To do our countrymen justice, it is\noften not self-interest, but a tendency to deal with the concrete\ninstance, in disregard of the general law, that blinds them to the\nlarger aspects of great problems. Those who are able to trace causes and\neffects further than the majority must expect to be unpopular, but they\nwill not mind it, if they can do good by speaking. The logic of events\nwill justify them, and science has a new weapon in official statistics\nwhich will register at once the disastrous effects upon wealth and trade\nwhich the insane theories of the demagogue will bring about. No agitator\ncan explain away ascertained figures; if we go down hill, we shall do it\nwith our eyes open. It may be that reactions will be set up which will\nrender the anticipations in this article erroneous. Things never turn\nout either so well or so badly as they logically ought to do. Prophecy\nis only an amusement; what does concern us all deeply is that we should\nsee in what direction we are now moving.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [23] In the small islands round our coast increase has\n     ceased for some decades. The vital statistics of these\n     islands furnish an excellent illustration of automatic\n     adjustment to a state of supersaturation.\n\n\n\n\nBISHOP GORE AND THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND\n\n(1908)\n\n\nThe strength and the weakness of the Anglican Church lie in the fact\nthat it is not the best representative of any well-defined type of\nChristianity. It is not strictly a Protestant body; for Protestantism is\nthe democracy of religion, and the Church of England retains a\nhierarchical organisation, with an order of priests who claim a divine\ncommission not conferred upon them by the congregation. It is not a\nState Church as the Russian Empire has[24] a State Church. That is a\nposition which it has neither the will nor the power to regain. Still\nless could it ever justify a claim to separate existence as a purely\nCatholic Church, independent of the Church of Rome. A community of\nCatholics whose claim to be a Catholic and not a Protestant Church is\ndenied by all other Catholics, by all Protestants, and by all who are\nneither Catholics nor Protestants, could not long retain sufficient\nprestige to keep its adherents together. The destiny of such a body is\nwritten in the history of the 'Old Catholics,' who seceded from Rome\nbecause they would not accept the dogma of Papal infallibility. The\nseceders included many men of high character and intellect, but in\nnumbers and influence they are quite insignificant. The Church of\nEngland has only one title to exist, and it is a strong one. It may\nclaim to represent the religion of the English people as no other body\ncan represent it. 'No Church,' Doellinger wrote in 1872, 'is so national,\nso deeply rooted in popular affection, so bound up with the institutions\nand manners of the country, or so powerful in its influence on national\ncharacter.' These words are still partly true, though it is not possible\nto make the assertion with so much confidence as when Doellinger wrote.\nThe English Church represents, on the religious side, the convictions,\ntastes, and prejudices of the English gentleman, that truly national\nideal of character, which has long since lost its adventitious connexion\nwith heraldry and property in land. A love of order, seemliness, and\ngood taste has led the Anglican Church along a middle path between what\na seventeenth-century divine called 'the meretricious gaudiness of the\nChurch of Rome and the squalid sluttery of fanatic conventicles.' A keen\nsense of honour and respect for personal uprightness, a hatred of\ncruelty and treachery, created and long maintained in the English Church\nan intense repugnance against the priestcraft of the Roman hierarchy,\nfeelings which have only died down because the bitter memories of the\nsixteenth century have at last become dim. A jealous love of liberty,\ncombined with contempt for theories of equality, produced a system of\ngraduated ranks in Church government which left a large measure of\nfreedom, both in speech and thought, even to the clergy, and encouraged\nno respect for what Catholics mean by authority. The Anglican Church is\nalso characteristically English in its dislike for logic and\nintellectual consistency and in its distrust of undisciplined\nemotionalism, which in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was\nknown and dreaded under the name of 'enthusiasm.' This type is not\nessentially aristocratic. It does not traverse the higher ideals of the\nworking class, which respects and admires the qualities of the\n'gentleman,' though it resents the privileges long connected with the\nname. But it has no attraction for what may be impolitely called the\nvulgar class, whose religious feelings find a natural vent in an\nunctuous emotionalism and sentimental humanitarianism. This class, which\nforms the backbone of Dissent and Liberalism, is instinctively\nantipathetic to Anglicanism. Nor does the Anglican type of Christianity\nappeal at all to the 'Celtic fringe,' whose temperament is curiously\nopposite to that of the English, not only in religion but in most other\nmatters. The Irish and the Welsh are no more likely to become Anglicans\nthan the lowland Scotch are to adopt Roman Catholicism. Whether Dissent\nis a permanent necessity in England is a more difficult question, in\nspite of the class differences of temperament above mentioned. If the\nAnglican organisation were elastic enough to permit the order of\nlay-readers to be developed on strongly Evangelical lines, the lower\nmiddle class might find within the Church the mental food which it now\nseeks in Nonconformist chapels, and might gain in breadth and dignity by\nbelonging once more to a great historic body.\n\nThe Church of England, then, can justify its existence as English\nChristianity, and in no other way. It began its separate career with a\nseries of (doubtless) illogical compromises, in the belief that there is\nan underlying unity, though not uniformity, in the religion as well as\nin the character of the English people, which would be strong enough to\nhold a national Church together. The dissenters from the Reformation\nsettlement were numerically insignificant, and their existence was not\nregarded as a peril to the Church, for it was recognised that in a free\ncountry absolute agreement cannot be secured. The Roman Catholics, after\nsome futile persecution, were allowed to remain loyal to their old\nallegiance in spiritual matters, while the Independents and similar\nbodies were anarchical on principle, and upheld the 'dissidence of\nDissent' as a thing desirable in itself. But the defection of the\nWesleyan Methodists was another matter. This was a blow to the Church of\nEngland as irreparable as the loss of Northern Europe to the Papacy. It\nfinally upset the balance of parties in the Church, by detaching from it\nthe larger number of the Evangelicals, particularly in the tradesman\nclass. It gave a great stimulus to Nonconformity, which now became for\nthe first time an important factor in the national life. Till the\nWesleyan secession, the Nonconformists in England had been a feeble\nfolk. From a return made to the Crown in 1700, it appeared that the\nDissenters numbered about one in twenty of the population. Now they are\nas numerous as the Anglicans. Their prestige has also been largely\naugmented by their dominating position in the United States, where the\nEpiscopal Church, long viewed with disfavour as tainted with British\nsympathies, has never recovered its lost ground, and is a comparatively\nsmall, though wealthy and influential sect. Within the Anglican\ncommunion, the inevitable religious revival of the nineteenth century\nbegan on Evangelical lines, but soon took a form determined by other\ninfluences than those which covered England with the ostentatiously\nhideous chapels of the Wesleyans. The extent of the revival has indeed\nbeen much exaggerated by the numerous apologists of the Catholic\nmovement. The undoubted increase of professional zeal, activity, and\nefficiency among the clergy has been taken as proof of a corresponding\naccess of enthusiasm among the laity, for which there is not much\nevidence. In spite of slovenly services and an easy standard of clerical\nduty, the observances of religion held a larger place in the average\nEnglish home before the Oxford Movement than is often supposed, larger,\nindeed, than they do now, when family prayers and Bible reading have\nbeen abandoned in most households.\n\nThe Oxford Movement claimed to be, and was, a revival of the principles\nof Anglo-Catholicism, which had not been left without witness for any\nlong period since the Reformation. The continuity is certain, as is the\ncontinuity of the Ritualism of our day with the Tractarianism of seventy\nyears ago; but the development has been rapid, especially in the last\nthirty years. Those who can remember the High Churchmen of Pusey's\ngeneration, or their disciples who in many country parsonages preserved\nthe faith of their Tractarian teachers whole and undefiled, must be\nstruck by the divergence between the principles which they then heard\npassionately maintained, and those which the younger generation, who use\ntheir name and enjoy their credit, avow to be their own.\n\nIn the Tractarians the Nonjurors seemed to have come to life again, and\none might easily find enthusiastic Jacobites among them. Unlike their\nsuccessors, they showed no sympathy with political Radicalism. Their\nlove for and loyalty to the English Church, which found melodious\nexpression in Keble's poetry, were intense. They were not hostile to\nEvangelicalism within the Church, until the ultra-Protestant party\ndeclared war against them; but they viewed Dissent with scorn and\nabhorrence. They would gladly have excluded Nonconformists from any\nstatus in the Universities, and opposed any measures intended to\nconciliate their prejudices or remove their disabilities. Archdeacon\nDenison, in his sturdy opposition to the 'conscience clause' in Church\nschools, was a typical representative of the old High Church party. But\nstill more bitter was their animosity against religious Liberalism. Even\nafter the feud with the Evangelicals had developed into open war, Pusey\nwas ready to join with Lord Shaftesbury and his party in united\nanathemas against the authors of 'Essays and Reviews.' The beginnings of\nOld Testament criticism evoked an outburst of fury almost unparalleled.\nWhen Bishop Gray, of Cape Town, solemnly 'excommunicated' Bishop\nColenso, of Natal, and enjoined the faithful to 'treat him as a heathen\nman and a publican,' for exposing the unhistorical character of portions\nof the Pentateuch, he became a hero with the whole High Church party,\nand even the more liberal among the bishops were cowed by the tempest of\nfeeling which the case aroused. In the same period, many Oxford men can\nremember Bishop Wilberforce's attack upon Darwinism, and, somewhat\nlater, Dean Burgon's University sermon which ended with the stirring\nperoration: Leave me my ancestors in Paradise, and I leave you yours in\nthe Zoological Gardens!' From the same pulpit Liddon, a little before\nhis death, uttered a pathetic remonstrance against the course which his\nyounger disciples were taking about inspiration and tradition.\n\nReverence for tradition was a very prominent feature in the theology of\nthe older generation. They spent an immense amount of time, learning,\nand ingenuity in establishing a _catena_ of patristic and orthodox\nauthority for their principles, reaching back to the earliest times, and\nhanded down in this country by a series of Anglo-Catholic divines. This\nunbroken tradition was conceived of as purely static, a 'mechanical\nunpacking,' as Father Tyrrell puts it, of the doctrine once delivered to\nthe Apostles. The Church, according to their theory, was supernaturally\nguided by the Holy Ghost, and its decisions were consequently\ninfallible, as long as the Church remained undivided. Thus the earlier\nGeneral Councils, before the schism between East and West, may not be\nappealed against, and the Creeds drawn up by them can never be revised.\nSince the great schism, the infallible inspiration of the Church has\nbeen in abeyance, like an old English peerage when a peer leaves two or\nmore daughters and no sons. This fantastic theory condemns all later\ndevelopments, and leaves the Church under the weight of the dead hand.\nOn the question of the Establishment the party was divided, some of its\nmembers attaching great value to the union of Church and State, while\nothers made claims for the Church, in the matter of self-government,\nwhich were hardly compatible with Establishment. Their bond of union was\ntheir conviction of 'the necessity of impressing on people that the\nChurch was more than a merely human institution; that it had privileges,\nsacraments, a ministry, ordained by Christ Himself; that it was a matter\nof highest obligation to remain united to the Church.'[25]\n\nAs compared with their successors, the Tractarians were academic and\nlearned; they preached thoughtful and carefully prepared sermons; they\ncared little for ecclesiastical millinery, and often acquiesced in very\nsimple and 'backward' ceremonial. Their theory of the Church, their\npersonal piety and self-discipline, were of a thoroughly medieval type,\nas may be seen from certain chapters in the life of Pusey. They fought\nthe battle of Anglo-Catholicism, at Oxford and elsewhere, with a\nwhole-hearted conviction that knew no misgivings or scruples. Oxford has\nnot forgotten the election, as late as 1862, of an orthodox naval\nofficer to a chair of history for which Freeman was a candidate.\n\nA change of tone was already noticeable, according to Dean Church, soon\nafter Newman's secession. Many High Churchmen, in speaking of the\nEnglish Church, became apologetic or patronising or lukewarm.\nProgressive members of the party professed a distaste for the name\nAnglican, and wished to be styled Catholics pure and simple. The same\nmen began to speak of their opponents in the Church as Protestants; no\nlonger as ultra-Protestants. Other changes soon manifested themselves.\nThe archaeological side of the movement lost its interest; the appeal to\nantiquity became only a convenient argument to defend practices adopted\non quite other grounds. The _epigoni_ of the Catholic revival are not\nlearned; they know even less of the Fathers than of their Bibles. Their\nchief literature consists of a weekly penny newspaper, which reflects\nonly too well their prejudices and aspirations. On the other hand, they\nare far busier than the older generation. The movement has become\ndemocratic; it has passed from the quadrangles of Oxford to the streets\nand lanes of our great cities, where hundreds of devoted clergymen are\nworking zealously, without care for remuneration or thought of\nrecognition, among the poorest of the populace. Of late years, the more\nenergetic section of the party has not only abandoned the 'Church and\nKing' Toryism of the old High Church party, but has plunged into\nsocialism. The Mirfield community is said to be strongly imbued with\ncollectivist ideas; and the Christian Social Union, which is chiefly\nsupported by High Churchmen, tends to become more and more a Union of\nChristian Socialists, instead of being, as was intended by its founders,\na non-political association for the study of social duties and problems\nin the light of the Sermon on the Mount. This attitude is partly the\nresult of a close acquaintance with the sufferings of the urban\nproletariat, which moves the priests who minister among them to a\ngenerous sympathy with their lot; and, partly, it may be, to an unavowed\ncalculation that an alliance with the most rapidly growing political\nparty may in time to come be useful to the Church. Their methods of\nteaching are also more democratic, though many of them make the fatal\nmistake of despising preaching. They rely partly on what they call\n'definite Catholic teaching,' including frequent exhortations to the\npractice of confession; and partly on appeals to the eye, by symbolic\nritual and elaborate ceremonial. Their more ornate services are often\nadmirably performed from a spectacular point of view, and are far\nsuperior to most Roman Catholic functions in reverence, beauty, and good\ntaste. The extreme section of the party is contemptuously lawless, not\nonly repudiating the authority of the Judicial Committee of the Privy\nCouncil, but flouting the bishops with studied insolence. A glaring\ninstance is to be found in the correspondence between Mr. Athelstan\nRiley and the Bishop of Oxford, which followed the Report of the Royal\nCommission on ritual practices.\n\nDoctrinally, the modern Ritualist is prepared to surrender the old\ntheory of inspiration. He takes, indeed, but little interest in the\nBible; his oracle is not the Book, but 'the Church.' What he means by\nthe Church it is not easy to say. The old Anglican theory of the\ninfallible undivided Church is not repudiated by him, but does not\nappeal to minds which look forward much more than backward; he is not\nyet, except in a few instances, disposed to accept the modern Roman\nChurch as the arbiter of doctrine; and the English Church has no living\nvoice to which he pays the slightest respect. The 'tradition of Western\nCatholicism' is a phrase which has a meaning for him, and he probably\nhopes for a reunion, at some distant date, of the Anglican Church with a\nreformed Rome. It is therefore essential, in his opinion, that no\nalteration shall take place in the formularies which we share with Rome;\nthe Bible may be thrown to the critics, but the Creeds are inviolable.\nThe Thirty-nine Articles he passes by with silent disdain. They are, he\nthinks not unjustly, a document to which no one, High, Low, or Broad,\ncan now subscribe without mental reservations.\n\nThe theory of development in doctrine, which, in its latest application\nby 'Modernists' like Loisy and Tyrell, is now agitating the Roman\nChurch, is exciting interest in a few of the more thoughtful\nAnglo-Catholics; but the majority are blind to the difficulties for\nwhich the theory of two kinds of truth is a desperate remedy. Nor is it\nlikely, perhaps, that the plain Englishman will ever allow that an\nostensibly historical proposition may be false as a matter of fact, but\ntrue for faith.\n\nThis party in the Church has a lay Pope, who represents the opinions of\nthe more enterprising among the rank and file, and is president of their\nsociety, the English Church Union. It has the ably conducted weekly\nnewspaper above referred to, and it has the general sympathy and support\nof the strongest man in the English Church, Charles Gore, Bishop of\nBirmingham. This prelate, partly by his personal qualities--his\neloquence, high-minded disinterestedness, and splendid generosity, and\npartly by knowing exactly what he wants, and having full courage of his\nopinions, has at present an influence in the Anglican Church which is\nprobably far greater than that of any other man. It is therefore a\nmatter of public interest to ascertain what his views and intentions\nare, as an ecclesiastical statesman and reformer, and as a theologian.\n\nBishop Gore exercised a strong influence over the younger men at Oxford\nbefore the publication of 'Lux Mundi.' But it was his editorship of this\nbook, and his contribution to it, which first brought his name into\nprominence as a leader of religious thought. The religious public, with\nrather more penetration than usual, fastened on the pages about\ninspiration, and the limitations of Christ's human knowledge, which are\nfrom the editor's own pen, as the most significant part of the book. The\nauthors are believed to have been annoyed by the disproportionate\nattention paid to this short section. But in truth these pages indicated\na new departure among the High Church party, a change more important\nthan the acceptance of the doctrine of evolution, which was being made\nsmoother for the religious public by the brilliant writings of Aubrey\nMoore. The acceptance of the verdict of modern criticism as to the\nauthorship of the 110th Psalm, in the face of the recorded testimony of\nChrist that it was written by David, was a concession to 'Modernism'\nwhich staggered the old-fashioned High Churchman. Liddon did not conceal\nhis distress that such doctrine should have come out of the Pusey House.\nBut the manifesto was well timed; it enabled the younger men to go\nforward more freely, and sacrificed nothing that was in any way\nessential to the Anglo-Catholic position. Since the appearance of 'Lux\nMundi,' the High Church clergy have been able without fear to avow their\nbelief in the scientific theories associated with Darwin's name, and\ntheir rejection of the rigid doctrine of verbal inspiration, while the\nEvangelicals, who have not been emancipated by their leaders, labour\nunder the reproach of extreme obscurantism in their attitude towards\nBiblical studies.\n\nAs Canon of Westminster, and then as Bishop of Worcester, and of\nBirmingham, Dr. Gore has written and spoken much, and has defined his\nposition more closely in relation to Anglo-Catholicism, to Church\nReform, and to the social question. It will be convenient to take these\nthree heads separately.\n\nThis Bishop regards the excesses of the Ritualists as a deplorable but\nprobably inevitable incident in a great movement. He quotes Newman's\nremonstrance against some hot-headed members of his adopted Church, who,\n'having done their best to set the house on fire, leave to others the\ntask of extinguishing the flames.'[26] But he reminds us that there has\nalways been 'intemperate zeal' in the Church, from the time of St.\nPaul's letters to the Church at Corinth to our own day. 'It must needs\nbe that offences come,' wherever persons of limited wisdom are very much\nin earnest. The remedy for extravagance is to give fair scope for the\nlegitimate principle. In the case of the so-called Ritualist movement,\nthe inspiring principle or motive is easily found. It is the idea of a\nvisible Church, exercising lawful authority over its members.\n\nThis is the key to Bishop Gore's whole position. It rests on the\nconviction that Jesus Christ founded, and meant to found, a visible\nChurch, an organised society. It is reasonable, the Bishop says, to\nsuppose that He did intend this, for it is only by becoming embodied in\nthe convictions of a society, and informing its actions, that ideas have\nreality and power. Christianity could never have lived if there had been\nno Christian Church. And, from the first, Christians believed that this\nsociety, the Catholic Church, was not left to organise itself on any\nmodel which from time to time might seem to promise the best results,\nbut was instituted from above, as a Divine ordinance, by the authority\nof Christ Himself.[27] The witness of the early Christian writers is\nunanimous that the conception of a visible Church was a prominent\nfeature in the Christianity of the sub-apostolic age, and it is plain\nthat the civil power suspected the Christians just because they were so\nwell organised. The Roman Empire was accustomed to tolerate\nsuperstitions, but it was part of her policy to repress _collegia\nillicita_. The witness of the New Testament points in the same\ndirection. Jesus Christ committed His message, not to writing, but to a\n'little flock' of devoted adherents. He instituted the two great\nsacraments (Bishop Gore will admit no uncertainty on this point) to be a\ntoken of membership and a bond of brotherhood. He instituted a _civitas\nDei_ which was to be wide enough to embrace all, but which makes for\nitself an exclusive claim. The 'heaven' of the first century was a city,\na new Jerusalem; Christians are spoken of by St. Paul as citizens of a\nheavenly commonwealth. The distinction between the universal invisible\nChurch and particular visible Churches is 'utterly unscriptural,' and\nwas overthrown long ago by William Law in his controversy with Hoadly.\n\nAs for the 'Apostolical Succession,' Dr. Gore thinks that its principle\nis more important than the form in which it is embodied. The succession\nwould not be broken if all the presbyters in the Church governed as a\ncollege of bishops; and if something of this kind actually happened for\na time in the early Church no argument against the Apostolical\nSuccession can be based thereon.[28] The principle is that no ministry\nis valid which is assumed, which a man takes upon himself, or which is\ndelegated to him from below. That this theory is Sacerdotalism in a\nsense may be admitted. But it does not imply a _vicarious_ priesthood,\nonly a representative one. It does not deny the priesthood which belongs\nto the Church as a whole. The true sacerdotalism means that Christianity\nis the life of an organised society, in which a graduated body of\nordained ministers is made the instrument of unity. It is no doubt true\nthat in such a Church unspiritual men are made to mediate spiritual\ngifts, but happily we may distinguish character and office. Nor must we\nbe deterred from asserting our convictions by the indignant protests\nwhich we are sure to hear, that we are 'unchurching' the non-episcopal\nbodies,[29] We do not assert that God is tied to His covenant, but only\nthat we are so.\n\nDr. Gore has no difficulty in proving that the sacerdotal theory of the\nChristian ministry took shape at an early date, and has been\nconsistently maintained in the Catholic Church from ancient times to our\nown day. It is much more difficult to trace it back to the Apostolic\nage, even if, with Dr. Gore, we accept as certain the Pauline authorship\nof the Pastoral Epistles, which is still _sub judice_. The 'Didache' is\na stumbling-block to those who wish to find Catholic practice in the\ncentury after our Lord's death; but that document is dismissed as\ncomposed by a Jewish Christian for a Jewish Christian community. After\nthe second century, the apologists for the priesthood are in smooth\nwaters.\n\nThe conclusion is that 'the various presbyterian and congregationalist\norganisations, in dispensing with the episcopal succession, violated a\nfundamental law of the Church's life.'[30] 'A ministry not episcopally\nreceived is invalid, that is to say, it falls outside the conditions of\ncovenanted security, and cannot justify its existence in terms of the\ncovenant.'[31] The Anglican Church is not asking for the cause to be\ndecided all her own way; for she has much to do to recall herself to her\ntrue principles. 'God's promise to Judah was that she should remember\nher ways and should be ashamed, when she should receive her sisters\nSamaria and Sodom, and that He would give them to her for daughters, but\nnot by her covenant.'[32] The 'covenant' which the Church is to be\ncontent to forgo in order to recover Samaria and _Sodom_ (the 'Free\nChurches' can hardly be expected to relish this method of opening\nnegotiations) is apparently the covenant between Church and State. 'In\nthe future the Anglican Church must be content to act as, first of all,\npart and parcel of the Catholic Church, ruled by her laws, empowered by\nher spirit.' The bishops are to be ready to maintain, at all cost, the\ninherent spiritual independence which belongs to their office.\n\nSuch a theory of the essentials of a true Church necessarily requires,\nas a corollary, a refutation of the Roman Catholic theory of orders,\nwhich reduces the Anglican clergy to the same level as the ministers of\nschismatical sects. Bishop Gore answers the objection that the Roman\nChurch is the logical expression of his theory of the ministry, by\nsaying that Roman Catholicism is not the development of the whole of the\nChurch, but only of a part of it; and moreover, that spiritually it does\nnot represent the whole of Christianity as it finds expression in the\nfirst Christian age or in the New Testament.[33] The Roman Church is a\none-sided outgrowth of the religion of Christ--a development of those\nqualities in Christianity with which the Latin genius has special\naffinity. It has committed itself to unhistorical doctrines, involving a\ndeficient appreciation of the intellectual and moral claim of truth to\nbe valued for its own sake no less than for its results. Much of its\nteaching can only be explained as the result of an 'over-reckless\naccommodation to the unregenerate natural instincts in religion.'[34]\nThe fact that the largest section of Christendom has become what Rome\nnow is, is no proof that theirs is the line of true development. We can\nsee this clearly enough if we consider the case of Buddhism. The main\nexisting developments of Buddhism are a mere travesty of the spirit of\nSakya Muni.[35] In this way Dr. Gore anticipates and rejects the\nargument since then put forward by Loisy, and other Liberal Catholic\napologists, that history has proved Roman Catholicism to be the proper\ndevelopment of Christ's religion. In short, the Anglican Church, which\nindisputably possesses the Apostolic Succession, has no reason to go\nhumbly to Borne to obtain recognition of her Orders.\n\nSo far, in reviewing Bishop Gore's published opinions, we are on\nfamiliar High Anglican ground. But what is the Bishop's seat of\nauthority in doctrine? He has shown himself willing, within limits, to\napply critical methods to Holy Scripture. He has very little respect for\nthe infallible Pope. And he would be the last to trust to private\njudgment--the _testimonium Spiritus Sancti_ as understood by some\nProtestants. Where, then, is the ultimate Court of Appeal? Bishop Gore\nfinds it in the two earliest of the three Creeds, 'in which Catholic\nconsent is especially expressed;' and in a half apologetic manner he\nadds that this Catholic basis has been 'generally understood' to imply\n'an unrealisable but not therefore unreal appeal to a General\nCouncil.'[36] No revision, therefore, of the Church's doctrinal\nformularies can be made except by the authority of a court which can\nnever, by any possibility, be summoned! The unique sanctity and\nobligation which Bishop Gore considers to attach to the Creeds have been\nasserted by him again and again with a vehemence which proves that he\nregards the matter as of vital importance. 'There must be no compromise\nas regards the Creeds.... If those who live in an atmosphere of\nintellectual criticism become incapable of such sincere public\nprofession of belief as the Creed contains, the Church must look to\nrecruit her ministry from classes still capable of a more simple and\nunhesitating faith.'[37] And, again, in his most recent book: 'I have\ntaken occasion before now to make it evident that, as far as I can\nsecure it, I will admit no one into this diocese, or into Holy Orders,\nto minister for the congregation, who does not _ex animo_ believe the\nCreeds.'[38] Dr. Gore has not spared to stigmatise as morally dishonest\nthose who desire to serve the Church as its ministers while harbouring\ndoubts about the physical miracle known as the Virgin Birth, and one of\nhis clergy was a few years ago induced to resign his living by an\naspersion of this kind, to which the Bishop gave publicity in the daily\npress.\n\nNow it has been generally supposed that the Anglican clergy are bound to\ndeclare their adhesion not only to the Creeds, but to the Thirty-nine\nArticles, and to the infallible truth of Holy Scripture. Bishop Gore,\nhowever, holds that when a new deacon, on the day of his ordination,\nsolemnly declares that he 'assents to the Thirty-nine Articles,' and\nthat he 'believes the doctrine therein set forth to be agreeable to the\nword of God,' he 'can no longer fairly be regarded as bound to\nparticular phrases or expressions in the Articles.'[39] And further,\nwhen the same new deacon expresses his 'unfeigned belief in all the\ncanonical Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments,' 'that expression of\nbelief can be fairly and justly made by anyone who believes heartily\nthat the Bible, as a whole, records and contains the message of God to\nman in all its stages of delivery and that each one of the books\ncontains some element or aspect of this revelation.'[40]\n\nThe Bishop himself has affirmed his personal belief that some narratives\nin the Old Testament are probably not historical. It may fairly be asked\non what principle he is prepared to evade the plain sense and intention\nof a doctrinal test in two cases while stigmatising as morally\nflagitious any attempts to do the same in a third. For it is\nunquestionable that a general assent to the Articles does not mean that\nthe man who gives that assent is free to repudiate any 'particular\nphrases or expressions' which do not please him. A witness who admitted\nhaving signed an affidavit with this intention would cut a poor figure\nin a law court. And it is difficult to see how adhesion to the\nantiquated theory of inspiration could be demanded more stringently than\nby the form of words which was drawn up, as none can doubt, to secure\nit. These things being so, either the accusation of bad faith applies to\nthe treatment which the Bishop justifies in the case of the Articles and\nthe Bible, or it should not be brought against those who apply to one\nclause in their vows the principle which is admitted and used in two\nothers.\n\nThere are some honourable men who have abstained from entering the\nservice of the Church on account of these requirements. But there are\nmany others who recognise that knowledge grows and opinions change,\nwhile formularies for the most part remain unaltered; and who consider\nthat, so long as their general position is understood by those among\nwhom they work, it would be overscrupulous to refuse an inward call to\nthe ministry because they know that they will be asked to give a formal\nassent to unsuitably worded tests drawn up three centuries ago. Dr. Gore\nhimself would probably have been refused ordination fifty years ago on\nthe ground of his lax views on inspiration; and the Bishops who approved\nof the condemnation of Colenso, who condemned 'Essays and Reviews,' and\nwho would have condemned 'Lux Mundi,' were more 'honest' to the tests\nthan their successors. But an obstinate persistence in that kind of\nhonesty would have excluded from the ministry all except fools, liars,\nand bigots. Again, it might have been supposed that the laity also, who\nat their baptism and confirmation made the same declaration of belief in\n'all the articles' of the Apostles' Creed, and who are bidden by the\nChurch to repeat the same Creed every week, are in the same position as\nthe clergy. But the Bishop again attempts to draw a distinction. 'The\nresponsibility of joining in the Creed is left to the conscience of the\nlayman,' but not to the conscience of the clergyman, nor, we suppose, of\nthe choir.[41] This plea seems to us a very lame one. The Church of\nEngland has never thought of imposing severer doctrinal tests on the\nclergy than on the laity, and assent to the Creeds is as integral a part\nof the baptismal as of the ordination vows.\n\nNo loyal Christian wishes to impugn a doctrine which touches so closely\nthe life of the Redeemer as the account of His miraculous conception,\nwhich appears, in our texts, in two books of the New Testament. If the\ntradition is as old as the Church, which is very doubtful, it must, from\nthe nature of the case, rest on the unsupported assertion of Mary, the\nmother of Jesus; for Joseph could only testify that the child was not\nhis. It is therefore useless to reinforce the Gospel narrative by\nappealing to 'Catholic tradition,'[42] as if it could add anything to\nthe evidence. It is significant, however, of the Bishop's own feelings\nabout tradition, that he quietly sets aside the plain statement of the\nSynoptic Gospels that Joseph and Mary had a large family of four sons\nand more than one daughter by their marriage. This statement, which is\ndoubtless historical, became intolerable to the conscience of the Church\nduring the long frenzy of asceticism, when marital relations were\nregarded as impure and degrading; and in consequence the perpetual\nvirginity of Mary, though contradicted in the New Testament, became as\nmuch an article of faith as her conception of Jesus by the Holy Ghost.\nWe have no wish to criticise the arguments for the Virgin Birth which\nDr. Gore has collected in his 'Dissertations.' But when a strenuous\neffort is made to exclude from the ministry of the Church all who cannot\ndeclare _ex animo_ that they believe it to be a certain historical fact,\nit becomes a duty to point out that, on ordinary principles of evidence,\nthe story must share the uncertainty which hangs over other strange and\nunsupported narratives. The Bishop expresses his doubt whether those who\nregard this miracle as unproven can be convinced of the Divinity of\nChrist. This only shows how difficult it is for an ecclesiastic in his\nhigh position to induce either clergy or laity to talk frankly to him.\nTo most educated men there would be no difficulty in believing that the\nSon of God became incarnate through the agency of two earthly parents.\nThe analogy of hybrids in the animal world is not felt to apply to the\nunion of the human and divine natures, except by persons of very low\nintelligence. We should have preferred to be silent on this delicate\nsubject, but for the fact that some men whom the Church can ill spare\nhave been advised officially not to apply for ordination, on account of\ntheir views about this miracle. Fortunately, the practice of demanding\nmore specific declarations than the law requires has not been adopted\nin most dioceses.\n\nThe question of the miraculous element in religious truth has indeed\nreached an acute stage. The Catholic doctrine is and always has been\nthat there are two 'orders'--the natural and the supernatural--on the\nsame plane, and distinguishable from each other. The Catholic theologian\nis prepared to define what occurrences in the lives of the Saints are\nnatural, and what supernatural. Miracles are of frequent occurrence, and\nare established by ordinary evidence. Three miracles have to be placed\nto the credit of each candidate for canonisation before he or she is\nentitled to bear the title of saint, and the evidence for these miracles\nis sifted by a commission. This theory has been practically abandoned in\nthe English Church. There are few among our ecclesiastics and\ntheologians who would spend five minutes in investigating any alleged\nsupernatural occurrence in our own time. It would be assumed that, if\ntrue, it must be ascribed to some obscure natural cause. The result is\nthat the miracles in the Creeds, or in the New Testament, are isolated\nas they have never been before. They seem to form an order by\nthemselves, a class of fact belonging neither to the world of phenomena\nas we know it, nor to the world of spirit as we know it. From this\nsituation has arisen the tendency, increasingly prevalent both in the\nRoman Church and in Protestant Germany, to distinguish 'truths of faith'\nfrom 'truths of fact,' The former, it is said, have a representative,\nsymbolic character, and are only degraded by being placed in the same\ncategory as physical phenomena. This contention is open to very serious\nobjections, but it at least indicates the actual state of the problem,\nviz. that to most educated men the miraculous element in Christianity\nseems to float between earth and heaven, no longer essentially connected\nwith either, while on the other hand the majority of religious people,\nincluding a few men of high intelligence, find it difficult to realise\ntheir faith without the help of the miraculous. Supernaturalism, which\nfrom the scientific point of view is the most unsatisfactory of all\ntheories, traversing as it does the first article in the creed of\nscience--the uniformity of nature--gives, after all, a kind of crude\nsynthesis of the natural and the spiritual, by which it is possible to\nlive; it is, for many persons, an indispensable bridge between the world\nof phenomena and the world of spirit. But when the heavy-handed\ndogmatist requires a categorical assent to the literal truth of the\nmiraculous, in exactly the same sense in which physical facts are true,\na tension between faith and reason cannot be avoided. And it is in this\nliteral sense that Bishop Gore requires all his clergy to assent to the\nmiracles in the Creeds.\n\nThe fact is that the Catholic party in the Church are in a hopeless\n_impasse_ with regard to dogma. They cannot take any step which would\ndivide them from 'the whole Church,' and the whole Church no longer\nexists except as an ideal--it has long ago been shivered into fragments.\nThe Roman Church is in a much better position. The Pope may at any time\n'interpret' tradition in such a manner as to change it completely--there\nis no appeal from his authoritative pronouncements; but for the High\nAnglican there is no living authority, only the dead hand, and a Council\nwhich can never meet. It is much as if no important legislation could be\npassed in this country without a joint session of our Parliament and the\nAmerican Congress. It is difficult to see any way of escape, except by\naccepting the principle of development in a sense which would repudiate\nthe time-honoured 'appeal to antiquity.'\n\nWe have next to consider Bishop Gore as a Church Reformer. We have seen\nthat he desires an autonomous Church, which can legislate for itself.\nThe dead hand, which weighs so lightly upon him when it forbids any\nattempt to revise the formularies of the faith, seems to him intolerably\nheavy when it obliges the Church to conform to 'the laws, canons, and\nrubrics of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which it cannot\nalter or add to.'[43] The only remedy, he thinks, is a really\nrepresentative assembly, of bishops, presbyters, and laymen. In the\nearly Church, as he points out, the laity were always recognised as\nconstituent members of the government of the Church. In a democratic\nage, the laity as a body should exercise the powers which in the Middle\nAges were delegated to, or usurped by, 'emperors, kings, chiefs and\nlords.' The parish ought to have the real control of the Church\nbuildings, except the chancel; the Church servants ought to be appointed\nand removed by the parish meeting. It would be a step forward if these\nparish councils could be organised under diocesan regulation, and\ninvested with the control of the parish finances, except the vicar's\nstipend; the right to object to the appointment of an unfit pastor; and\nsome power of determining the ceremonial at the Church services. The\ndiocesan synod should become a reality; there should also be provincial\nsynods, which could become national by fusion. But in the last resort\nthe declaration of the mind of the Church on matters of doctrine and\nmorals ought to belong to the bishops.[44]\n\nBut who are the laity? 'By a layman,' he says, 'I mean one who fulfils\nthe duties of Church membership--one who is baptised into the Church,\nwho has been confirmed if he has reached years of discretion, and who is\na communicant.' A roll of Church members, he suggests, should be kept in\neach parish, on which should be entered the name of each confirmed\nperson, male or female. The names of those who had passed (say) two\nyears without communicating should be struck off the roll. Further,\nnames should be removable for any scandalous offences.[45]\n\nIt is easy to see that the 'communicant franchise' would work entirely\nin favour of that party in the Church which attaches the greatest\nimportance to that Sacrament. It would exclude a large number of\nProtestant laymen who subscribe to Church funds, and who on any other\nfranchise would have a share in its government. But we need not suspect\nDr. Gore of any _arriere pensee_ of this kind. His ideal of parochial\nlife is one which must appeal to all who wish well to the Church. We\nwill quote a few characteristic sentences:\n\n     'Are we to set to work to revive St. Paul's ideal of the\n     life of a Church? If so, what we need is not more\n     Christians, but better Christians. We want to make the moral\n     meaning of Church membership understood and its conditions\n     appreciated. We want to make men understand that it costs\n     something to be a Christian; that to be a Christian, that\n     is, a Churchman, is to be an intelligent participator in a\n     corporate life consecrated to God, and to concern oneself,\n     therefore, as a matter of course, in all that touches the\n     corporate life, its external as well as its spiritual\n     conditions.... We Christians are fellow-citizens together in\n     the commonwealth that is consecrated to God, a commonwealth\n     of mortal men with bodies as well as souls.'[46]\n\nWith regard to ritual, he will not allow that the disputes are\nunimportant. The vital question of self-government is at stake. From\nthis point of view, a 'mere ceremony' may mean a great deal. St. Paul,\nwho said 'Circumcision is nothing,' also said, 'If ye be circumcised\nChrist shall profit you nothing,'[47] This is quite consistent with his\nhearty disapproval of the introduction of purely Roman ceremonial.\n\nDoes this ideal of a free Church in a free State involve\ndisestablishment? Not necessarily, Dr. Gore thinks. Why should not legal\nauthority be entrusted to diocesan courts, with a right of appeal to a\ncourt of bishops, abolishing the jurisdiction of the Judicial Committee\nin spiritual cases? It is the paralysis of spiritual authority, in his\nopinion, which pushes into prominence all extravagances, and conceals\nthe vast amount of agreement which exists in essentials. 'We are weary\nof debating societies; we want the healthy discipline of co-operative\ngovernment.'[48] The policy of this self-governing Church is to be\n'Liberal-Catholic,' a type which 'responds to the moral needs of our\ngreat race.'\n\nSuch is the scheme of Church reform towards which the Bishop is working;\nand he has told us, in the sentence last quoted, what kind of Church he\nlooks forward to see. But what kind of Church would it actually be, if\nhis designs were carried out? It would not be a national Church; for\nhis belief that Catholicism 'responds to the moral needs of our race' is\ncontradicted by the whole history of modern England. The laity of\nEngland may not be quite 'as Protestant as ever they were, though we\noften hear that they are so; but they show no disposition to become\nCatholics. Catholicism as we know it is Latin Christianity, and even in\nthe Latin countries it is now a hothouse plant, dependent on a special\neducation in Catholic schools and seminaries, with an _index librorum\nprohibitorum_. Such a system is impossible in England. Seminaries for\nthe early training of future clergymen may indeed be established; but\nbeds of exotics cannot be raised by keeping the gardeners in greenhouses\nwhile the young plants are in the open air. The 'Liberal Catholic'\nChurch, accordingly, would shed, by degrees, the very large number of\nChurchmen who still call themselves Protestant. Nor would the adjective\n'Liberal' secure the adhesion of the 'intellectuals.' Bishop Gore's\nLiberalism would exclude most of them as effectually as the most rigid\nConservatism. It would also be a disestablished and disendowed Church;\nfor surely it is building castles in the air to think of episcopal\ncourts recognised by law. The prospect of disestablishment does not\nalarm the Bishop. Some of his utterances suggest that he would almost\nwelcome it. Indeed, disestablishment is viewed with complacency by an\nincreasing number of High Church clergy. They feel that they can never\ncarry out their plans for de-Protestantising the Church while the Crown\nhas the appointment of the bishops. For even if, as has lately been the\ncase, their party gets more than its due share of preferment, there will\nalways, under the existing system, be a sufficient number of Liberal and\nEvangelical bishops on the bench to make a consistent policy of\nCatholicising impossible. And the Catholic party are so admirably\norganised that they are confident in their power to carry their schemes\nunder any form of self-government, even though the mass of the laity are\nuntouched by their views. Moreover, the town clergy, among whom are to\nbe found advocates of disestablishment, find in many places that the\nparochial idea has completely broken down. The unit is the congregation,\nno longer the parish, and the clergy are supported by pew-rents and\nvoluntary offerings, not by endowments. In such parishes,\ndisestablishment might, they think, give them greater liberty, and would\nmake little difference to them in other ways. But in the country\ndistricts the case is very different. Thirty years after\ndisestablishment, the quiet country rectory, nestling in its bower of\ntrees and shrubs, with all that it has meant for centuries in English\nrural life, would in most villages be a thing of the past.\n\nFor these reasons, the Bishop's policy of reconstructing the Church of\nEngland as a self-governing body, professing definitely Catholic\nprinciples and enjoining Catholic practices, seems to us an impossible\none. The chief gainer by it would be the Church of Rome, which would\ngather in the most consistent and energetic of the Anglo-Catholics, who\nwould be dissatisfied at the contrast between the pretensions of their\nown Church and its isolated position. The non-episcopal bodies would\nalso gain numerous recruits from among the ruins of the Evangelical and\nLiberal parties in the Church.\n\nBut, it may be said, this dismal forecast may be falsified if the\nAnglican Church can win the masses. The English populace are at present\nneither Protestant nor Catholic; they are, if we count heads, mainly\nheathen. May not the working man, who has no leaning to dissent, unless\nit be the 'corybantic Christianity' of the Salvation Army, be brought\ninto the Church?\n\nBishop Gore has always shown an earnest sympathy with the aspirations of\nthe working class to improve their material condition. He is also\nprofoundly impressed by the apparent discrepancy between the teachings\nof Christ about wealth and the principles which His professed disciples\nwholly follow and in part avow. These anxious questionings form the\nsubject of a fine sermon which he preached at the Church Congress of\n1906, on the text about the camel and the needle's eye. Jesus Christ\nchose to be born of poor and humble parents, in a land remote from the\ncentre of political or intellectual influence, and in the circle of\nlabouring men. He chose to belong to the class of the respectable\nartisan, and most of the twelve Apostles came from the same social\nlevel. In His teaching He plainly associated blessedness with the lot of\npoverty, and extreme danger with the lot of wealth. All through the New\nTestament the assumption is that God is on the side of the poor against\nthe rich. As Jowett once said, there is more in the New Testament\nagainst being rich, and in favour of being poor, than we like to\nrecognise. And is not this the cause of our failure to win the masses?\nIs it not because we are the Church of capital rather than of labour?\nThe Church ought to be a community in which religion works upward from\nbelow. The Church of England expresses that point of view which is\nprecisely not that which Christ chose for His Church. The incomes of the\nbishops range them with the wealthier classes; the clergy associate with\nthe gentry and not with the artisans. We must acknowledge with deep\npenitence that we are on wrong lines. For himself, the Bishop admits\nthat he has 'a permanently troubled conscience' in the matter. Then,\nwith that admirable courage and practicality which is the secret of much\nof his influence, he proceeds to indicate four 'lines of hopeful\nrecovery.' First, the Church must get rid of the administration of poor\nrelief. Where the charity of the Church is understood to mean the\npatronage of the rich, it can do nothing without disaster. All will be\nin vain till it has ceased to be a plausible taunt that a man or woman\ngoes to church for what can be got. Secondly, we must give the artisans\ntheir true place in Church management, and must consult their tastes in\nall non-essentials. Thirdly, the clergy should 'concentrate themselves\nupon bringing out the social meaning of the sacraments,' and giving\nvoice to the spirit of Christian brotherhood. Lastly, we ought to free\nthe clerical profession entirely from any association of class.\n\nThe Bishop is not a Collectivist, but he has great sympathy with some of\nthe aims of Socialism. In a 'Pan-Anglican Paper' just issued, he\ndiscusses the attitude of the Church towards Socialism. Christianity, he\nsays, must remain independent of State-Socialism, as of other\norganisations of society. Socialism would make a far deeper demand on\ncharacter than most of its adherents realise. 'An experiment in\nState-Socialism, based on the average level of human character as it\nexists at present, would be doomed to disastrous failure.' (Bishop\nCreighton said the same thing more epigrammatically. 'Socialism will\nonly be possible when we are all perfect, and then it will not be\nneeded.') But what we have is no Socialistic State, but a great body of\naspiration, based on a great demand for justice in human life. The\nindictment of our present social organisation is indeed overwhelming,\nand with this indictment Christianity ought to have the profoundest\nsympathy, for it is substantially the indictment of the Old Testament\nprophets. The prophets were on the side of the poor; and so was our\nLord. Where is the prophetic spirit in the Church to-day? We need 'a\ntremendous act of penitence.' Our charities have been mere\nambulance-work; but 'the Christian Church was not created to be an\nambulance-corps.' We have followed the old school of political economy\ninstead of the prophets and Christ. Broadly, we may contrast two ideals\nof society: individualism, which means in the long run the right of the\nstrong; and socialism, which means that the society is supreme over the\nindividual. 'On the whole, Christianity is with Socialism.'\n\nThis 'Pan-Anglican Paper' is a fair representation of the views which\nare spreading rapidly among the High Church clergy. The party is in fact\nmaking a determined effort to enlist the sympathies of the working man\nwith the Church, by offering him in return its sympathy and countenance\nin his struggle against capitalism. This is a phase of the movement\nwhich it is very difficult to judge fairly. Dr. Gore's sermon was\ncalculated to give any Christian who heard it, whether Conservative or\nLiberal, 'a troubled conscience;' and his practical suggestions are as\nconvincing as any suggestions that are not platitudes are likely to be.\nBut in weaker hands this sympathy with the cause of Labour is in great\ndanger of becoming one of the most insidious temptations that can attack\na religious body. The Church of England has been freely accused of too\ngreat complaisance to the powers that be, when those powers were\noligarchic. Some of the clergy are now trying to repeat, rather than\nredress, this error, by an obsequious attitude to King Working-man. But\nthe Church ought to be equally proof against the _vultus instantis\ntyranni_ and the _civium ardor prava iubentium_. The position of a\nChurch which should sell itself to the Labour party would be truly\nignominious. It would be used so long as the politicians of the party\nneeded moral support and eloquent advocacy, and spurned as soon as its\nservices were no longer necessary. The taunt of Helen to Aphrodite in\nthe third book of the 'Iliad' sounds very apposite when we read the\nspeeches of some clerical 'Christian Socialists,' who find it more\nexciting to organise processions of the unemployed than to attend to\ntheir professional duties.\n\n    heso par' ahython hiohysa, thehon d' haphoeike kelehythoy,\n    med' heti sohisi phodessin hypostrhepseiast 'Holympon,\n    hall' ahiehi perhi kehinon hohizye kahi he phylasse,\n    ehist ho khe s' he halochon poihesetai, he ho ge dohylen.[49]\n\nIt is as a slave, not as an honoured help-mate, that the Social\nDemocrats would treat any Christian body that helped them to overthrow\nour present civilisation. And rightly; for Christ's only injunction in\nthe sphere of economics was, 'Take heed and beware of all covetousness,'\nHe refused pointedly to have anything to do with disputes about the\ndistribution of property; and in the parable of the Prodigal Son the\ndemand, 'Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me,' is the\nprelude to a journey in that 'far country' which is forgetfulness of God\n(_terra longinqua est oblivio Dei_). Christ unquestionably meant His\nfollowers to think but little of the accessories of life. He believed\nthat if men could be induced to adopt the true standard of values,\neconomic relations would adjust themselves. He promised His disciples\nthat they should not want the necessaries of subsistence, and for the\nrest, He held that the freedom from anxiety, covetousness, and envy,\nwhich He enjoined as a duty, would also make their life happy. This is\na very different spirit from that which makes Socialism a force in\npolitics.\n\nBishop Gore, we may be sure, will not willingly allow the High Church\nparty to be entangled in corrupt alliances. When he handles what may be\ncalled applied Christianity, he does so in a manner which makes us\nrejoice at the popularity of his books. The little commentaries on the\nSermon on the Mount, and on the Epistles to the Romans and Ephesians,\nare admirable. They are simple, practical, and profound. We subjoin a\nshort analysis of the notes on the first part of the Sermon on the\nMount, as an illustration of the teaching which runs all through the\nthree commentaries.\n\n     The Sermon on the Mount is not the whole of Christianity. It\n     is the climax of law, of the letter that killeth. The Divine\n     requirement is pressed home with unequalled force upon the\n     conscience; yet not in the form of mere laws of conduct, but\n     as a type of character. It is promulgated not by an\n     inaccessible God, but by the Divine Love manifested in\n     manhood. The hard demand of the letter is closely connected\n     with the promise of the Spirit. We are told that many of the\n     precepts in the sermon were anticipated by Pagan and Jewish\n     writers. But this we might have expected, since all men are\n     rational and moral through fellowship with the Word, who is\n     also the Reason of God. Christ is the light which in\n     conscience and reason lightens every man throughout the\n     history of the race. But the Sermon is comprehensive where\n     other summaries are fragmentary, it is pure where they are\n     mixed. It is teaching for grown men, who require principles,\n     not rules. And it is authoritative, reinforced by the\n     mysterious Person of the speaker. The Beatitudes are a\n     description of character. Christ requires us, not to do such\n     and such things, but to be such and such people. ... True\n     blessedness consists in membership of the kingdom of heaven,\n     which is a life of perfect relationship with man and nature\n     based on perfect fellowship with God.... The Beatitudes\n     describe the Christian character in detail; in particular,\n     they describe it as contrasted with the character of the\n     world, which, in the religious sense, may be defined as\n     human society as it organises itself apart from God. The\n     first Beatitude enjoins detachment, such as His who emptied\n     Himself, as having nothing and yet possessing all things. We\n     are all to be detached; there are some whom our Lord\n     counsels to be literally poor. 'Blessed are they that\n     mourn' means that we are not to screen ourselves from the\n     common lot of pain. We must distinguish 'godly sorrow' from\n     the peevish discontent and slothfulness which St. Paul calls\n     the sorrow of the world, and which in medieval casuistry is\n     named acedia. 'Blessed are the meek' means that we are not\n     to assert ourselves unless it is our duty to do so. The true\n     Christian is a man who in his private capacity cannot be\n     provoked. On a general view of life, though not always in\n     particular cases, we must allow that we are not treated\n     worse than we deserve. The fourth Beatitude tells us that if\n     we want righteousness seriously, we can have it. The fifth\n     proclaims the reward of mercy, that is, compassion in\n     action. Pity which does nothing is only hypocrisy or\n     emotional self-indulgence. On the whole, we can determine\n     men's attitude to us by our attitude to them; the merciful\n     do obtain mercy. 'Purity of heart' means singleness of\n     purpose; but in the narrower sense of purity it is worth\n     while to say that those who profess to find it 'impossible'\n     to lead a pure life might overcome their fault if they would\n     try to be Christlike altogether, instead of struggling with\n     that one fault separately. 'Sincerum est nisi vas,\n     quodcunque infundis acescit.' On the seventh--there are many\n     kinds of false peace, which Christ came to break up; but\n     fierce, relentless competition is an offence in a Christian\n     nation. The last shows what our reward is likely to be in\n     this world, if we follow these counsels. Where the\n     Christ-character is not welcomed, it is hated.\n\nFrom the later sections a few characteristic comments may be given in an\nabridged form.\n\n     We are apt to have rather free and easy notions of the\n     Divine fatherhood. To call God our Father, we must ourselves\n     be sons; and it is only those who are led by the Spirit of\n     God who are the sons of God.... Ask for great things, and\n     small things will be given to you. This is exactly the\n     spirit of the Lord's Prayer.... Act for God. Direct your\n     thoughts and intentions Godward, and your intelligence and\n     affections will gradually follow along the line of your\n     action.... You must put God first, or nowhere.... It is a\n     perilous error to say that we have only to follow our\n     conscience; we have to enlighten our conscience and keep it\n     enlightened.... There is no greater plague of our generation\n     than the nervous anxiety which characterises all its\n     efforts. We ought to be reasonably careful, and then go\n     boldly forward in the peace of God.... Our Lord did not\n     mean to make of His disciples a new kind of Pharisee.\n     ....'Judge not,' means, Do not be critical. The condemnation\n     of one who is always finding fault carries no moral weight.\n     It is those who have the lowest and vaguest standards of\n     what is right who are often the most critical in judgment of\n     other people.... We ought so to limit our desires that what\n     we want for ourselves we can reasonably expect also for\n     others.... A man who wants to do his duty must always be\n     prepared to stand alone.... Christianity is not so much a\n     statement of the true end or ideal of human life, as a great\n     spiritual instrument for realising the end.\n\nThese extracts will be sufficient to show what are the characteristics\nof these little commentaries. They exhibit extreme honesty of purpose,\nfearless acceptance of Christ's teaching honestly interpreted, scorn of\nunreality and empty words, and a determination never to allow preaching\nto be divorced from practice. No more stimulating Christian teaching has\nbeen given in our generation.\n\nThe valuable treatise on the Holy Communion, called 'The Body of\nChrist,' is too theological for detailed discussion in these pages. The\npoints in which the Roman Church has perverted and degraded the really\nCatholic sacramental doctrine are forcibly exposed, and the true nature\nof the sacrament is unfolded in a masterly and beautiful manner.\n\nA study of the whole body of theological writings from the pen of this\nremarkable man leaves us with the conviction that he is one of the most\npowerful spiritual forces in our generation. It is the more to be\nregretted that in certain points he seems to be hampered by false\npresuppositions and misled by unattainable ideals. His loyalty to\n'Catholic truth,' as understood by the party in the Church to which he\nconsents to belong, prevents him from understanding where the shoe\nreally pinches among those of the younger generation who are both\nthoughtful and devout. He makes a fetish of the Creeds, documents which\nonly represent the opinions of a majority at a meeting; and what manner\nof meetings Church Councils sometimes were, is known to history. He is\nstill impressed with the grandeur of the Catholic idea, as embodied in\nthe Roman Church, and will do nothing to preclude reunion, should a\nmore enlightened policy ever prevail at the Vatican. But this country\nhas done with the Roman Empire, in its spiritual as well as its temporal\nform. The dimensions of that proud dominion have shrunk with the\nexpansion of knowledge; new worlds have been opened out, geographical\nand mental, which never owned its sway; the _caput orbis_ has become\nprovincial, and her authority is spurned even within her own borders.\nThere is no likelihood of the English people ever again accepting\n'Catholicism,' if Catholicism is the thing which history calls by that\nname. The movement which the Bishop hopes to lead to victory will\nremain, as it has been hitherto, a theory of the ministry rather than of\nthe Church, and its strength will be confined, as it is now, mainly to\nclerical circles.\n\nCatholicism and Protestantism (in so far as they are more than names for\ninstitutionalism and mysticism, which are permanent types) are both\nobsolescent phases in the evolution of the Christian religion. 'The time\ncometh when neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem shall men\nworship the Father.'\n\nA profound reconstruction is demanded, and for those who have eyes to\nsee has been already for some time in progress. The new type of\nChristianity will be more Christian than the old, because it will be\nmore moral. A number of unworthy beliefs about God are being tacitly\ndropped, and they are so treated because they are unworthy of Him. The\nrealm of nature is being claimed for Him once more; the distinction\nbetween natural and supernatural is repudiated; we hear less frequent\ncomplaints that God 'does nothing' because He does not assert Himself by\nbreaking one of His own laws. The divinity of Christ implies--one might\nalmost say it means--the eternal supremacy of those moral qualities\nwhich He exhibited in their perfection. 'Conversio fit ad Dominum ut\nSpiritum,' as Bengel said. The visible or Catholic Church is not the\nname of an institution which has the privilege of being governed by\nbishops. It is 'dispersed throughout the whole world,' under many\nbanners and many disguises. Its political reunion is (Plato would say)\nan hen mhytho ehyche, and is at present neither to be expected nor\ndesired. Among those who are by right citizens of the spiritual kingdom,\nthose only are in danger of exclusion from it who entrench themselves in\na little fort of their own and erect barriers, which may make them their\nown prisoners, but which will not hinder the great commonwealth of\nseekers after truth from working out modern problems by modern lights,\nuntil the whole of our new and rich inheritance, intellectual, moral,\nand aesthetic, shall be brought again under the obedience of Christ.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [24] In 1908.\n\n     [25] Palmer's _Narrative_, p 20.\n\n     [26] _Contemporary Review_, April 1899.\n\n     [27] _The Church and the Ministry_, pp. 9, 10.\n\n     [28] _Ibid_., p. 74.\n\n     [29] _The Church and the Ministry_, p. 110.\n\n     [30] _Ibid_., p. 344.\n\n     [31] _Ibid_., p. 345.\n\n     [32] _Ibid_., p. 348.\n\n     [33] _The Mission of the Church_, p. 32.\n\n     [34] _Church Congress Report_, 1896, p. 143.\n\n     [35] _Ibid_., p. 142.\n\n     [36] _Church Congress Report_, 1903, p. 15.\n\n     [37] _Ibid_., p. 17.\n\n     [38] _The New Theology and the Old Religion_, p. 162.\n\n     [39] _Church Congress Report_, 1903, p. 16.\n\n     [40] _Ibid_.\n\n     [41] _The New Theology and the Old Religion_, p. 163.\n\n     [42] _Dissertations_, pp. 41-49.\n\n     [43] _Church Congress Report_, 1899, p. 63.\n\n     [44] _Church Congress Report_, 1899, pp. 65-67.\n\n     [45] _Ibid_., 1896, pp. 342-346.\n\n     [46] _Epistle to the Ephesians_, pp. 113, 114.\n\n     [47] _Contemporary Review_, April 1899.\n\n     [48] _Ibid_.\n\n     [49] 'Go and sit thou by his side, and depart from the way\n     of the gods; neither let thy feet ever bear thee back to\n     Olympus; but still be vexed for his sake and guard him, till\n     he make thee his wife--or rather his slave.'\n\n\n\n\nROMAN CATHOLIC MODERNISM\n\n(1909)\n\n\nThe Liberal movement in the Roman Church is viewed by most Protestants\nwith much the same mixture of sympathy and misgiving with which\nEnglishmen regard the ambition of Russian reformers to establish a\nconstitutional government in their country. Freedom of thought and\nfreedom of speech are almost always desirable; but how, without a\nviolent revolution, can they be established in a State which exists only\nas a centralised autocracy, held together by authority and obedience?\nThis sympathy, and these fears, are likely to be strongest in those who\nhave studied the history of Western Catholicism with most intelligence.\nFrom the Edict of Milan to the Encyclical of Pius X, the evolution which\nended in papal absolutism has proceeded in accordance with what looks\nlike an inner necessity of growth and decay. The task of predicting the\npolicy of the Vatican is surely not so difficult as M. Renan suggested,\nwhen he remarked to a friend of the present writer, 'The Church is a\nwoman; it is impossible to say what she will do next.' For where is the\nevidence of caprice in the history of the Roman Church? If any State has\nbeen guided by a fixed policy, which has imposed itself inexorably on\nits successive rulers, in spite of the utmost divergences in their\npersonal characters and aims, that State is the Papacy.\n\nBeneath all the eddies which have broken the surface, the great stream\nhas flowed on, and has flowed in one direction. The same logic of events\nwhich transformed the constitutional principate of Augustus into the\nsultanate of Diocletian and Valentinian, has brought about a parallel\ndevelopment in the Church which inherited the traditions, the policy,\nand the territorial sphere of the dead Empire. The second World-State\nwhich had its seat on the Seven Hills has followed closely in the\nfootsteps of the first. It is not too fanciful to trace, as Harnack has\ndone, the resemblance in detail--Peter and Paul in the place of Romulus\nand Remus; the bishops and arch-bishops instead of the proconsuls; the\ntroops of priests and monks as the legionaries; while the Jesuits are\nthe Imperial bodyguard, the protectors and sometimes the masters of the\nsovereign. One might carry the parallel further by comparing the schism\nbetween the Eastern and Western Churches, and the later defection of\nnorthern Europe, with the disruption of the Roman Empire in the fourth\ncentury; and in the sphere of thought, by comparing the scholastic\nphilosophy and casuistry with the _Summa_ of Roman law in the\nDigest.[50]\n\nThe fundamental principles of such a government are imposed upon it by\nnecessity. In the first place, progressive centralisation, and the\nsubstitution of a graduated hierarchy for popular government, came about\nas inevitably in the Catholic Church as in the Mediterranean Empire of\nthe Caesars. The primitive colleges of presbyters soon fell under the\nrule of the bishops, the bishops under the patriarchs; and then Rome\nsuffered her first great defeat in losing the Eastern patriarchates,\nwhich she could not subjugate. The truncated Church, no longer\n'universal,' found itself obliged to continue the same policy of\ncentralisation, and with such success that, under Innocent III, the\ntriumph of the theocracy seemed complete. The Papacy dominated Europe\n_de facto_, and claimed to rule the world _de jure_. Boniface VIII, when\nthe clouds were already gathering, issued the famous Bull 'Unam\nsanctam,' in which he said: 'Subesse Romano pontifici omnes humanas\ncreaturas declaramus, definimus, et pronuntiamus omnino esse de\nnecessitate salutis.' The claim is logical. A theocracy (when religion\nis truly monotheistic)[51] must claim to be universal _de jure_; and its\nruler must be the infallibly inspired and autocratic vicegerent of the\nAlmighty. He is the rightful lord of the world, whether he gives a\ncontinent to the King of Spain by a stroke of the pen, or whether his\nsecular jurisdiction is limited by the walls of his palace. In the\nfourteenth century the Pope is already called 'dominus deus\nnoster'--precisely the style in which Martial adulates Domitian. In the\nBull of Pius V (1570) the claim of universal dominion is reiterated; it\nis asserted that the Almighty,\n\n     'cui data est omnis in caelo et in terra potestas, unam\n     sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam, extra quam\n     nulla est salus, uni soli in terris, videlicet apostolorum\n     principi Petro Petrique successori Romano pontifici in\n     potestatis plenitudine tradidit gubernandam.'\n\nBut the final victory of infallibilism was the achievement of the\nnineteenth-century Jesuits, who completed the dogmatic apotheosis of the\nPope at the moment when the last vestiges of his temporal power were\nbeing snatched from him.\n\nNow a government of this type is always in want of money. The spiritual\nRoman Empire was as costly an institution as the court and the\nbureaucracy of Diocletian and his successors. The same necessity which\nsuppressed democracy in the Church drove it to elaborate an oppressive\nsystem of taxation, in which every weakness of human nature was\nsystematically exploited for gain, and every morsel of divine grace\nplaced on a tariff. But this method of raising revenue is only possible\nwhile the priests can persuade the people that they really control a\ntreasury of grace, from which they can make or withhold grants at their\npleasure. It stands or falls with a non-ethical and magical view of the\ndivine economy which is hardly compatible with a high level of culture\nor morality. The Catholic Church has thus been obliged, for purely\nfiscal reasons, to discourage secular education, particularly of a\nscientific kind, and to keep the people, so far as possible, in the\nmental and moral condition most favourable to such transactions as the\npurchase of indulgences and the payment of various insurances against\nhell and purgatory.\n\nAnother necessity of absolute government is the repression of free\ncriticism directed against itself. Heresy and schism in an autocratic\nChurch take the place of treason against the sovereign. Cyprian, in the\nthird century, had already laid down the principles by which alone the\ncentral authority could be maintained.\n\n     'Ab arbore frange ramum; fractus germinare non poterit. A\n     fonte praecide rivum; praecisus arescit.... Quisquis ab\n     ecclesia separatus adulterae iungitur, a promissis ecclesiae\n     separatur. Alienus est, hostis est. Habere non potest Deum\n     patrem, qui ecclesiam non habet matrem.'\n\nSchismatics are therefore rebels, whose lives are forfeit under the laws\nof treason. Heretics are in no better case; for the Church is the only\ninfallible interpreter both of Scripture and of tradition; and to differ\nfrom her teaching is as disloyal as to secede from her jurisdiction.\nEven Augustine could say, 'I should not believe the Gospel, if the\nauthority of the Church did not determine me to do so'; a statement\nwhich a modern ultra-montane has capped by saying, 'Without the\nauthority of the Pope, I should not place the Bible higher than the\nKoran.' Bellarmine claims an absolute monopoly of inspiration for the\nRoman Church on the ground that Rome alone has preserved the apostolic\nsuccession beyond dispute.[52] As for the treatment which heretics\ndeserve, the same authority is very explicit.\n\n     'In the first place, heretics do more mischief than any\n     pirate or brigand, because they slay souls; nay more, they\n     subvert the foundations of all good and fill the\n     commonwealth with the disturbances which necessarily follow\n     religious differences. In the second place, capital\n     punishment inflicted on them has a good effect on very many\n     persons. Many whom impunity was making indifferent are\n     roused by these executions to consider what is the nature of\n     the heresy which attracts them, and to take care not to end\n     their earthly lives in misery and lose their future\n     happiness. Thirdly, it is a kindness to obstinate heretics\n     to remove them from this life. For the longer they live, the\n     more errors they devise, the more men they pervert, and the\n     greater damnation they acquire for themselves.'[53]\n\nIn all matters which are not essential for the safety of the\nautocracy, an absolutist Church will consult the average tastes of its\nsubjects. If the populace are at heart pagan, and hanker after\nsensuous ritual, dramatic magic, and a rich mythology, these must be\nprovided. The 'intellectuals,' being few and weak, may be safely\nrebuffed or disregarded until their discoveries are thoroughly\npopularised. The pronouncements of the Roman Inquisition in the case\nof Galileo are typical.\n\n     'The theory that the sun is in the centre of the world, and\n     stationary, is absurd, false in philosophy, and formally\n     heretical, because it is contrary to the express language of\n     Holy Scripture. The theory that the earth is not the centre\n     of the world, nor stationary, but that it moves with a daily\n     motion, is also absurd and false in philosophy, and,\n     theologically considered, it is, to say the least, erroneous\n     in faith.'\n\nThe exigencies of despotic government thus supply the key to the whole\npolicy and history of the Papacy. 'The worst form of State' can only be\nbolstered up by the worst form of government. There should therefore be\nno difficulty in distinguishing between the official policy of the Roman\nSee--which has been almost uniformly odious--and the history of the\nChristian religion in the Latin countries, which has added new lustre to\nhuman nature. The Catholic saints did not fly through the air, nor were\ntheir hearts pierced with supernatural darts, as the mendacious\nhagiology of their Church would have us believe; but they have a better\ntitle to be remembered by mankind, as the best examples of a beautiful\nand precious kind of human excellence.\n\nThe papal autocracy has now reached its Byzantine period of decadence.\nDuring the Middle Ages Catholicism suited the Latin races very well on\nthe whole. Their ancestral paganism was allowed to remain substantially\nunchanged--the _nomina_, but not the _numina_ were altered; their awe\nand reverence for the _caput orbis_, ingrained in the populations of\nEurope by the history of a thousand years, made submission to Rome\nnatural and easy; a host of myths 'abounding in points of attachment to\nhuman experience and in genial interpretations of life, yet lifted\nbeyond visible nature and filling a reported world believed in on\nfaith,'[54] adorned religion with an artistic and poetical embroidery\nvery congenial to the nations of the South. But a monarchy essentially\nOriental in its constitution is unsuited to modern Europe. Its whole\nscheme is based on keeping the laity in contented ignorance and\nsubservience; and the laity have emancipated themselves The Teutonic\nnations broke the yoke as soon as they attained a national\nself-consciousness. They escaped from a system which had educated, but\nnever suited them. Nor has the shrinkage been merely territorial. The\nPyrrhic victories over Gallicanism, Jansenism, Catholic democracy\n(Lamennais), historical theology (Doellinger and the Old Catholics), each\nalienated a section of thinking men in the Catholic countries. The Roman\nChurch can no longer be called Catholic, except in the sense in which\nthe kingdom of Francis II remained the Holy Roman Empire. It is an\nexclusive sect, which preserves much more political power than its\nnumbers entitle it to exert, by means of its excellent discipline, and\nby the sinister policy of fomenting political disaffection. Examples of\nthis last are furnished by the contemporary history of Ireland, of\nFrance, and of Poland.\n\nThese considerations are of primary importance when we try to answer the\nquestions: To what extent is the Roman Church fettered by her own past?\nIs there any insuperable obstacle to a modification of policy which\nmight give her a new lease of life? We have seen how much importance is\nattached to the Church's title-deeds. Is tradition a fatal obstacle to\nreform? Theoretically, the tradition which she traces back to the\napostles gives her a fixed constitution. So the Catholic Church has\nalways maintained. 'Regula quidem fidei una omnino est, sola immobilis\net irreformabilis.'[55] The rule of faith may be better understood by a\nlater age than an earlier, but there can be no additions, only a sort of\nunpacking of a treasure which was given whole and entire in the first\ncentury. In reality, of course, there has been a steady evolution in\nconformity to type, the type being not the 'little flock' of Christ or\nthe Church of the Apostles, but the absolute monarchy above described.\nIt has long been the _crux_ of Catholic apologetics to reconcile the\ntheoretical immobility of dogma with the actual facts.\n\nThe older method was to rewrite history. It was convenient, for example,\nto forget that Pope Honorius I had been anathematised by three\necumenical councils. The forged Decretals gave a more positive sanction\nto absolutist claims; and interpolations in the Greek Fathers deceived\nSt. Thomas Aquinas into giving his powerful authority to infallibilism.\nThis method cannot be called obsolete, for the present Pope recently\ninformed the faithful that 'the Hebrew patriarchs were familiar with the\ndoctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and found consolation in the\nthought of Mary in the solemn moments of their life.'[56] But such\nsimple devices are hardly practicable in an age when history is\nscientifically studied. Moreover, other considerations, besides\ncontroversial straits, have suggested a new theory of tradition. A Caesar\nwho, like the kings of the Medes and Persians, is bound by the laws of\nhis predecessors, is not absolute. Acceptance of the theory of\ndevelopment in dogma would relieve the Pope from the weight of the dead\nhand.\n\nThe new apologetic is generally said to have been inaugurated by\nCardinal Newman. His work 'The Development of Christian Doctrine,' is\nno doubt an epoch-making book, though the idea of tradition as the\nproduct of the living spirit of a religious society, preserving its\nmoral identity while expressing itself, from time to time, in new forms,\nwas already familiar to readers of Schleiermacher. Newman gives us\nseveral 'tests' of true development. These are--preservation of type;\ncontinuity of principles; power of assimilation; logical sequence;\nanticipation of results; tendency to conserve the old; chronic vigour.\nThese tests, he considered, differentiate the Roman Church from all\nother Christian bodies, and prove its superiority. The Church has its\nown genius, which yes and works in it. This is indeed the Holy Spirit of\nGod, promised by Jesus Christ. Through the operation of this spirit, old\nthings become new, and fresh light is shed from the sacred pages of\nScripture. Catholic tradition is, in fact, the glorified but\never-present Christ Himself, reincarnating Himself, generation after\ngeneration, in the historical Church. It is unnecessary to enquire\nwhether there is apostolic authority for every new dogma, for the Church\nis the mouthpiece of the living Christ.\n\nThis theory marks, on one side, the complete and final apotheosis of the\nPope and the hierarchy, who are thereby made independent even of the\npast history of the Church. Pius IX was not slow to realise that the\nonly court of appeal against his decisions was closed in 1870. 'La\ntradizione sono io,' he said, in the manner of Louis XIV. The Pope is\nhenceforth not the interpreter of a closed cycle of tradition, but the\npilot who guides its course always in the direction of the truth. This\nis to destroy the old doctrine of tradition. The Church becomes the\nsource of revelation instead of its custodian. On the other side, it is\na perilous concession to modern ideas. There is an obvious danger that,\nas the result of this doctrine, the dogmas of the Church may seem to\nhave only a relative and provisional truth; for, if each pronouncement\nwere absolutely true, there would be no real development, and the\nappearance of it in history would become inexplicable.\n\nThis new and, in appearance, more liberal attitude towards modern ideas\nof progress has raised the hopes of many in the Roman Church whose\nminds and consciences are troubled by the ever-widening chasm which\nseparates traditional dogma from secular knowledge. While dogma was\nstationary--_immobilis et irreformabilis_--there seemed to be no\nprospect except that the progress of human knowledge would leave\ntheology further and further behind, till the rupture between\nCatholicism and civilisation became absolute. The idea that the Church\nwould ever modify her teaching to bring it into harmony with modern\nscience seemed utterly chimerical. But if the static theory of\nrevelation is abandoned, and a dynamic theory substituted for it; if the\ndivine part of Christianity resides, not in the theoretical formulations\nof revealed fact, but in the living and energising spirit of the Church;\nwhy should not dogmatic theology become elastic, changing periodically\nin correspondence with the development of human knowledge, and no longer\nstand in irreconcilable contradiction with the ascertained laws of\nnature?\n\nThus the dethronement of tradition by the Pope contributed to make the\nModernist movement possible. The Modernists have even claimed Newman as\non their side. This appeal cannot be sustained. 'The Development of\nChristian Doctrine' is mainly a polemic against the high Anglican\nposition, and an answer to attacks upon Roman Catholicism from this\nside. Anglicanism at that time had committed itself to a thoroughly\nstationary view of revelation. Its 'appeal to antiquity'--a period\nwhich, in accordance with a convenient theory, it limited to the\ncouncils of the 'undivided Church'--was intended to prove the\ncatholicity and orthodoxy of the English Church, as the faithful\nguardian of apostolic tradition, and to condemn the medieval and modern\naccretions sanctioned by the Church of Rome. The earlier theory of\ntradition left the Roman Church open to damaging criticism on this side;\nno ingenuity could prove that all her doctrines were 'primitive.' Even\nin those early days of historical criticism, it must have been plain to\nany candid student of Christian 'origins' that the Pauline Churches were\nfar more Protestant than Catholic in type. But Newman had set himself to\nprove that 'the Christianity of history is not Protestantism; if ever\nthere were a safe truth, it is this,' Accordingly, he argues that\n'Christianity came into the world as an idea rather than an institution,\nand had to fit itself with armour of its own providing.' Such\nexpressions sound very like the arguments of the Modernists; but Newman\nassuredly never contemplated that they would be turned against the\npolicy of his own Church, in the interests of the critical rationalism\nwhich he abhorred. His attitude towards dogma is after all not very\ndifferent from that of the older school. 'Time was needed' (he says)\n'for the elucidation of doctrines communicated once for all through\ninspired persons'; his examples are purgatory and the papal supremacy.\nHe insists that his 'tests' of true development are only controversial,\n'instruments rather than warrants of right decisions.' The only real\n'warrant' is the authority of the infallible Church. It is highly\nsignificant that one of the features in Roman Catholicism to which he\nappeals as proving its unblemished descent from antiquity is its\nexclusiveness and intolerance.\n\n     'The Fathers (he says complacently) anathematised doctrines,\n     not because they were old, but because they were new; for\n     the very characteristic of heresy is novelty and originality\n     of manifestation. Such was the exclusiveness of the\n     Christianity of old. I need not insist on the steadiness\n     with which that principle has been maintained ever since.'\n\nThe Cardinal is right; it is quite unnecessary to insist upon it; but,\nwhen the Modernists claim Newman as their prophet, it is fair to reply\nthat, if we may judge from his writings, he would gladly have sent some\nof them to the stake.\n\nThe Modernist movement, properly so called, belongs to the last twenty\nyears, and most of the literature dates from the present century. It\nbegan in the region of ecclesiastical history, and soon passed to\nbiblical exegesis, where the new heresy was at first called\n'concessionism,' The scope of the debate was enlarged with the stir\nproduced by Loisy's 'L'Evangile et l'Eglise' and 'Autour d'un Petit\nLivre'; it spread over the field of Christian origins generally, and\nproblems connected with them, such as the growth of ecclesiastical power\nand the evolution of dogma. For a few years the orthodox in France\ngenerally spoke of the new tendency as _loisysme_. It was not till 1905\nthat Edouard Le Roy published his 'Qu'est-ce qu'un dogme?' which carried\nthe discussion into the domain of pure philosophy, though the studies of\nBlondel and Laberthonniere in the psychology of religion may be said to\ninvolve a metaphysic closely resembling that of Le Roy. Mr. Tyrrell's\nable works have a very similar philosophical basis, which is also\nassumed by the group of Italian priests who have remonstrated with the\nPope.[57] M. Loisy protests against the classification made in the papal\nEncyclical which connects biblical critics, metaphysicians,\npsychologists, and Church reformers, as if they were all partners in the\nsame enterprise. But in reality the same presuppositions, the same\nphilosophical principles, are found in all the writers named; and the\ndifferences which may easily be detected in their writings are\ncomparatively superficial. The movement appears to be strongest in\nFrance, where the policy of the Vatican has been uniformly unfortunate\nof recent years, and has brought many humiliations upon French\nCatholics. Italy has also been moved, though from slightly different\ncauses. In the protests from that country we find a tone of disgust at\nthe constitution of the Roman hierarchy and the character of the papal\n_entourage_, about which Italians are in a position to know more than\nother Catholics. Catholic Germany has been almost silent; and Mr.\nTyrrell is the only Englishman whose name has come prominently forward.\n\nIt will be convenient to consider the position of the Modernists under\nthree heads: their attitude towards New Testament criticism, especially\nin relation to the life of Christ; their philosophy; and their position\nin the Roman Catholic Church.\n\nThe Modernists themselves desire, for the most part, that criticism\nrather than philosophy should be regarded as the starting-point of the\nmovement. 'So far from our philosophy dictating our critical method, it\nis the critical method that has of its own accord forced us to a very\ntentative and uncertain formulation of various philosophical\nconclusions.... This independence of our criticism is evident in many\nways.'[58] The writers of this manifesto, and M. Loisy himself, appear\nnot to perceive that their critical position rests on certain very\nimportant philosophical presuppositions; nor indeed is any criticism of\nreligious origins possible without presuppositions which involve\nmetaphysics. The results of their critical studies, as bearing on the\nlife of Christ, we shall proceed to summarise, departing as little as\npossible from the actual language of the writers, and giving references\nin all cases. It must, however, be remembered that some of the group,\nsuch as Mr. Tyrrell, have not committed themselves to the more extreme\ncritical views, while others, such as the Abbe Laberthonniere, the most\nbrilliant and attractive writer of them all, hold a moderate position on\nthe historical side. It is perhaps significant that those who are\nspecialists in biblical criticism are the most radical members of the\nschool.\n\nThe Gospels, says M. Loisy, are for Christianity what the Pentateuch is\nfor Judaism. Like the Pentateuch, they are a patchwork and a compound of\nhistory and legend. The differences between them amount in many cases to\nunmistakable contradictions. In Mark the life of Jesus follows a\nprogressive development. The first to infer His Messiahship is Simon\nPeter at Caesarea Philippi; and Jesus Himself first declares it openly in\nHis trial before the Sanhedrin. In Matthew and Luke, on the contrary,\nJesus is presented to the public as the Son of God from the beginning of\nHis ministry; He comes forward at once as the supreme Lawgiver, the\nJudge, the anointed of God. The Fourth Gospel goes much further still.\nHis heavenly origin, His priority to the world, His co-operation in the\nwork of creation and salvation, are ideas which are foreign to the other\nGospels, but which the author of the Fourth Gospel has set forth in his\nprologue, and, in part, put into the mouth of John the Baptist.[59] The\ndifference between the Christ of the Synoptic Gospels and the Christ of\nJohn may be summed up by saying that 'the Christ of the Synoptics is\nhistorical, but is not God; the Johannine Christ is divine, but not\nhistorical.'[60] But even Mark (according to M. Loisy) probably only\nincorporates the document of an eye-witness; his Gospel betrays Pauline\ninfluence.[61] The Gospel which bears his name is later than the\ndestruction of Jerusalem, and was issued, probably about A.D. 75, by an\nunknown Christian, not a native of Palestine, who wished to write a book\nof evangelical instruction in conformity with the ideas of the\nHellenic-Christian community to which he belonged.[62] The tradition\nconnecting it with Peter may indicate that it was composed at Rome, but\nhas no other historical value.[63]\n\nThe Gospel of Matthew was probably written about the beginning of the\nsecond century by a non-Palestinian Jew residing in Asia Minor or Syria.\nHe is before all things a Catholic ecclesiastic, and may well have been\none of the presbyters or bishops of the churches in which the\ninstitution of a monarchical episcopate took root.[64] The narratives\npeculiar to Matthew have the character rather of legendary developments\nthan of genuine reminiscences. The historical value of these additions\nis _nil_. As a witness to fact, Matthew ranks below Mark, and even below\nLuke.[65] In particular, the chapters about the birth of Christ seem not\nto have the slightest historical foundation. The fictitious character of\nthe genealogy is proved by the fact that Jesus seems not to have known\nof His descent [from David]. The story of the virgin birth turns on a\ntext from Isaiah. Of this part of the Gospel, Loisy says, 'rien n'est\nplus arbitraire comme exegese, ni plus faible comme narration\nfictive.'[66] Luke has taken more pains to compose a literary treatise\nthan Mark or Matthew. The authorities which he follows seem to be--the\nsource of our Mark, the so-called Matthew _logia_, and some other source\nor sources. But he treats his material more freely than Matthew. 'The\nlament of Christ over the holy city, His words to the women of\nJerusalem, His prayer for His executioners, His promise to the penitent\nthief, His last words, are very touching traits, which may be in\nconformity with the spirit of Jesus, but which have no traditional\nbasis.'[67] 'The fictitious character of the narratives of the infancy\nis less apparent in the Third Gospel than in the First, because the\nstories are much better constructed as legend, and do not resemble a\n_midrash_ upon Messianic prophecies. \"Le merveilleux en est moins banal\net moins enfantin. II parait cependant impossible de leur reconnaitre\nune plus grande valeur de fond.\"'[68]\n\nThe Gospel of Luke was probably written (not by a disciple of St. Paul)\nbetween 90 and 100 A.D.; but the earliest redaction, which traced the\ndescent of Jesus from David through Joseph, has been interpolated in the\ninterests of the later idea of a virgin birth. The first two chapters\nare interesting for the history of Christian beliefs, not for the\nhistory of Christ. As for the Fourth Gospel, it is enough to say that\nthe author had nothing to do with the son of Zebedee, and that he is in\nno sense a biographer of Christ, but the first and greatest of the\nChristian mystics.[69]\n\nThe result of this drastic treatment of the sources may be realised by\nperusing chapter vii of Loisy's 'Les Evangiles Synoptiques,' The\nfollowing is a brief analysis of this chapter, entitled 'La Carriere de\nJesus.' Jesus was born at Nazareth about four years before the Christian\nera. His family were certainly pious, but none of His relatives seems to\nhave accepted the Gospel during His lifetime. Like many others, the\nyoung Jesus was attracted by the terrifying preaching of John the\nBaptist, from whom He received Baptism. When John was imprisoned He at\nonce attempted to take his place. He began to preach round the lake of\nGalilee, and was compelled by the persistent demands of the crowd to\n'work miracles.' This mission only lasted a few months; but it was long\nenough for Jesus to enrol twelve auxiliaries, who prepared the villages\nof Galilee for His coming, travelling two and two through the north of\nPalestine. Jesus found His audience rather among the _declasses_ of\nJudaism than among the Puritans. The staple of His teaching was the\nadvent of the 'kingdom of God'--the sudden and speedy coming of the\npromised Messiah. This teaching was acceptable neither to Herod Antipas\nnor to the Pharisees; and their hostility obliged Jesus to fly for a\nshort time to the Phoenician territory north of Galilee. But a\nconference between the Master and His disciples at Caesarea Philippi\nended in a determination to visit the capital and there proclaim Jesus\nas the promised Messiah. As they approached Jerusalem, even the ignorant\ndisciples were frightened at the risks they were running, but Jesus\ncalmed their fears by promising that they should soon be set on twelve\nthrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel. 'Jesus n'allait pas a\nJerusalem pour y mourir.'[70]\n\nThe doomed prophet made his public entry into Jerusalem as Messiah, and,\nas a first act of authority, cleared the temple courts by an act of\nviolence, in which He was doubtless assisted by His disciples. For some\ndays after this He preached daily about the coming of the kingdom, and\nfoiled with great dexterity the traps which His enemies laid for Him.\n'But the situation could only end in a miracle or a catastrophe, and it\nwas the catastrophe which happened.'[71] Jesus was arrested, after a\nbrief scuffle between the satellites of the High Priest and the\ndisciples; and the latter, without waiting to see the end, fled\nnorthwards towards their homes. When brought before Pilate, Jesus\nprobably answered 'Yes' to the question whether He claimed to be a king;\nbut 'la parole du Christ johannique, Mon royaume n'est pas de ce monde,\nn'aurait jamais pu etre dite par le Christ d'histoire.' This confession\nled naturally to His immediate execution; after which\n\n     'on peut supposer que les soldats detacherent le corps de la\n     croix avant le soir et le mirent dans quelque fosse commune,\n     ou l'on jetait pele-mele les restes des supplicies. Les\n     conditions de sepulture furent telles qu'au bout de quelques\n     jours il aurait ete impossible de reconnaitre la depouille\n     du Sauveur, quand meme on l'aurait cherchee.'[72]\n\nThe disciples, however, had been too profoundly stirred by hope to\naccept defeat. None of them had seen Jesus die; and though they knew\nthat He was dead, they hardly realised it. Besides, they were\nfellow-countrymen of those who had asked whether Jesus was not Elijah,\nor even John the Baptist, come to life again. What more natural than\nthat Peter should see the Master one day while fishing on the lake? 'The\nimpulse once given, this belief grew by the very need which it had to\nstrengthen itself.' Christ 'appeared also to the eleven,' So it was that\ntheir faith brought them back to Jerusalem, and Christianity was born.\n\n'The supernatural life of Christ in the faithful and in the Church has\nbeen clothed in an historical form, which has given birth to what we\nmight somewhat loosely call the Christ of legend.' So the Italian\nmanifesto sums up the result of this reconstruction or denudation of the\nGospel history.[73] 'Such a criticism,' say the authors not less frankly\nthan truly, 'does away with the possibility of finding in Christ's\nteaching even the embryonic form of the Church's later theological\nteaching.'[74]\n\nReaders unfamiliar with Modernist literature will probably have read the\nforegoing extracts with utter amazement. It seems hardly credible that\nsuch views should be propounded by Catholic priests, who claim to remain\nin the Catholic Church, to repeat her creeds, minister at her altars,\nand share her faith. What more, it may well be asked, have rationalist\nopponents of Christianity ever said, in their efforts to tear up the\nChristian religion by the roots, than we find here admitted by Catholic\napologists? What is left of the object of the Church's worship if the\nChrist of history was but an enthusiastic Jewish peasant whose pathetic\nignorance of the forces opposed to Him led Him to the absurd enterprise\nof attempting a _coup d'etat_ at Jerusalem? Is not Jesus reduced by this\ncriticism to the same level as Theudas or Judas of Galilee? and, if this\nis the true account, what sentiment can we feel, when we read His tragic\nstory, but compassion tinged with contempt?\n\nAnd on what principles are such liberties taken with our authorities?\nWhat is the criterion by which it is decided that Christ said, 'I am a\nking,' but not 'My kingdom is not of this world'? Why must the\nresurrection have been only a subjective hallucination in the minds of\nthe disciples? To these questions there is a plain answer. The\nnon-intervention of God in history is an axiom with the Modernists.\n'L'historien,' says M. Loisy, 'n'a pas a s'inspirer de l'agnosticisme\npour ecarter Dieu de l'histoire; il ne l'y rencontre jamais.'[75] It\nwould be more accurate to say that, whenever the meeting takes place,\n'the historian' gives the Other the cut direct.\n\nBut now comes in the peculiar philosophy by which the Modernists claim\nto rehabilitate themselves as loyal and orthodox Catholics, and to turn\nthe flank of the rationalist position, which they have seemed to occupy\nthemselves. The reaction against Absolutism in philosophy has long since\nestablished itself in Germany and France. In England and Scotland the\nbattle still rages; in America the rebound has been so violent that an\nextreme form of anti-intellectualism is now the dominant fashion in\nphilosophy. It would have been easy to predict--and in fact the\nprediction was made--that the new world-construction in terms of will\nand action, which disparages speculative or theoretical truth and gives\nthe primacy to what Kant called the practical reason, would be eagerly\nwelcomed by Christian apologists, hard-pressed by the discoveries of\nscience and biblical criticism. Protestants, in fact, had recourse to\nthis method of apologetic before the Modernist movement arose. The\nRitschlian theology in Germany (in spite of its 'static' view of\nrevelation), and the _Symbolo-fideisme_ of Sabatier and Menegoz, have\nmany affinities with the position of Tyrrell, Laberthonniere, and Le\nRoy.\n\nIt is exceedingly difficult to compress into a few pages a fair and\nintelligible statement of a _Weltansicht_ which affects the whole\nconception of reality, and which has many ramifications. There is an\nadditional difficulty in the fact that few of the Modernists are more\nthan amateurs in philosophy. They are quick to see the strategic\npossibilities of a theory which separates faith and knowledge, and\ndeclares that truths of faith can never come into collision with truths\nof fact, because they 'belong to different orders.' It suits them to\nfollow the pragmatists in talking about 'freely chosen beliefs,' and\n'voluntary certainty '; Mr. Tyrrell even maintains that 'the great mass\nof our beliefs are reversible, and depend for their stability on the\naction or permission of the will.' But philosophy is for them mainly a\ncontroversial weapon. It gives them the means of justifying their\nposition as Catholics who wish to remain loyal to their Church and her\nformularies, but no longer believe in the miracles which the Church has\nalways regarded as matters of fact. Nevertheless, an attempt must be\nmade to explain a point of view which, to the plain man, is very strange\nand unfamiliar.\n\nTwo words are constantly in the mouth of Modernist controversialists in\nspeaking of their opponents. The adherents of the traditional theology\nare 'intellectualists,' and their conception of reality is 'static.' The\nmeaning of the latter charge may perhaps be best explained from\nLaberthonniere's brilliantly written essay, 'Le Realisme Chretien et\nl'Idealisme Grec.' The Greeks, he says, were insatiable in their desire\nto _see_, like children. Blessedness, for them, consisted in a complete\nvision of reality; and, since thought is the highest kind of vision,\nsalvation was conceived of by them as the unbroken contemplation of the\nperfectly true, good, and beautiful. Hence arose the philosophy of\n'concepts'; they idealised nature by considering it _sub specie\naeternitatis_. Reality resided in the unchanging ideas; the mutable, the\nparticular, the individual was for them an embarrassment, a 'scandal of\nthought.' The sage always tries to escape from the moving world of\nbecoming into the static world of being. But an ideal world, so\nconceived, can only be an abstraction, an impoverishment of reality.\nSuch an idealism gives us neither a science of origins nor a science of\nends. Greek wisdom sought eternity and forgot time; it sought that which\nnever dies, and found that which never lives.\n\n     'An abstract doctrine, like that of Greek philosophy or of\n     Spinoza, consists always in substituting for reality, by\n     simplification, ideas or concepts which they think\n     statically in their logical relations, regarding them at the\n     same time as adequate representations and as essences\n     immovably defined.'[76]\n\nHellenised Christianity, proceeds our critic, regarded the incarnation\nstatically, as a fact in past history. But the real Christ is an object\nof faith. 'He introduces into us the principles of that which we ought\nto be. That which He reveals, He makes in revealing it.' In other words,\nChrist, and the God whom He reveals, are a power or force rather than a\nfact. 'A God who has nothing to become has nothing to do.' God is not\nthe idea of ideas, but the being of beings and the life of our life. He\nis not a supreme notion, but a supreme life and an immanent action. He\nis not the 'unmoved mover,' but He is in the movement itself as its\nprinciple and end. While the Greeks conceived the world _sub specie\naeternitatis_, God is conceived by modern thought _sub specie temporis_.\nGod's eternity is not a sort of arrested time in which there is no more\nlife; it is, on the contrary, the maximum of life.\n\nIt is plain that we have here a one-sided emphasis on the dynamic aspect\nof reality no less fatal to sound philosophy than the exclusively static\nview which has been falsely attributed to the Greeks. A little clear\nthinking ought to be enough to convince anyone that the two aspects of\nreality which the Greeks called sthasist and khinesist are correlative\nand necessary to each other. A God who is merely the principle of\nmovement and change is an absurdity. Time is always hurling its own\nproducts into nothingness. Unless there is a being who can say, 'I am\nthe Lord, I change not,' the 'sons of Jacob' cannot flatter themselves\nthat they are 'not consumed.'[77] But Laberthonniere and his friends are\nnot much concerned with the ultimate problems of metaphysics; what they\ndesire is to shake themselves free from 'brute facts' in the past, to be\nat liberty to deny them as facts, while retaining them as representative\nideas of faith. If reality is defined to consist only in life and\naction, it is a meaningless abstraction to snip off a moment in the\nprocess, and ask, 'Did it ever really take place?' This awkward question\nmay therefore be ignored as meaningless and irrelevant, except from the\n'abstract' standpoint of physical science.\n\nThe crusade against 'intellectualism' serves the same end. M. Le Roy and\nthe other Christian pragmatists have returned to the Nominalism of Duns\nScotus. The following words of Frassen, one of Scotus' disciples, might\nserve as a motto for the whole school:\n\n     'Theologia nostra non est scientia. Nullatenus speculativa\n     est, sed simpliciter practica. Theologiae obiectum non est\n     speculabile, sed operabile. Quidquid in Deo est practicum\n     est respectu nostri.'\n\nM. Le Roy also seems to know only these two categories. Whatever is not\n'practical'--having an immediate and obvious bearing on conduct--is\nstigmatised as 'theoretical' or 'speculative.' But the whole field of\nscientific study lies outside this classification, which pretends to be\nexhaustive. Science has no 'practical' aim, in the narrow sense of that\nwhich may serve as a guide to moral action; nor does it deal with\n'theoretical' or 'speculative' ideas, except provisionally, until they\ncan be verified. The aim of science is to determine the laws which\nprevail in the physical universe; and its motive is that purely\ndisinterested curiosity which is such an embarrassing phenomenon to\npragmatists. And since the faith which lies behind natural science is at\nleast as strong as any other faith now active in the world, it is\nuseless to frame categories in such a way as to exclude the question,\n'Did this or that occurrence, which is presented as an event in the\nphysical order, actually happen, or not?' The question has a very\ndefinite meaning for the man of science, as it has for the man in the\nstreet. To call it 'theoretical' is ridiculous.\n\nWhat M. Le Roy means by 'interpreting dogmas in the language of\npractical action' may be gathered from his own illustrations. The dogma,\n'God is our Father,' does not define a 'theoretical relation' between\nHim and us. It signifies that we are to behave to Him as sons behave to\ntheir father. 'God is personal' means that we are to behave to Him as if\nHe were a human person. 'Jesus is risen' means that we are to think of\nHim as if He were our contemporary. The dogma of the Real Presence means\nthat we ought to have, in the presence of the consecrated Host, the same\nfeelings which we should have had in the presence of the visible Christ.\n'Let the dogmas be interpreted in this way, and no one will dispute\nthem.'[78]\n\nThe same treatment of dogma is advocated in Mr. Tyrrell's very able book\n'Lex Orandi.' The test of truth for a dogma is not its correspondence\nwith phenomenal fact, but its 'prayer-value.' This writer, at any rate\nbefore his suspension by the Society of Jesus, to which he belonged, is\nless subversive in his treatment of history than the French critics whom\nwe have quoted. Although in apologetics the criterion for the acceptance\nof dogmas must, he thinks, be a moral and practical one, he sometimes\nspeaks as if the 'prayer-value' of an ostensibly historical proposition\ncarried with it the necessity of its truth as matter of fact.\n\n     'Between the inward and the outward, the world of reality\n     and the world of appearances, the relation is not merely one\n     of symbolic correspondence. The distinction that is demanded\n     by the dualism of our mind implies and presupposes a causal\n     and dynamic unity of the two. We should look upon the\n     outward world as being an effectual symbol of the inward, in\n     consequence of its natural and causal connection\n     therewith.'[79]\n\nBut Mr. Tyrrell does not seem to mean all that these sentences might\nimply. He speaks repeatedly, in the 'Lex Orandi,' of the 'will-world' as\nthe only real world.\n\n     'The will (he says) cannot make that true which in itself is\n     not true. But it can make that a fact relatively to our mind\n     and action which is not a fact relative to our\n     understanding.... It rests with each of us by an act of will\n     to create the sort of world to which we shall accommodate\n     our thought and action. ....It does not follow that harmony\n     of faith with the truths of reason and facts of experience\n     is the best or essential condition of its credibility....\n     Abstractions (he refers to the world as known to science)\n     are simple only because they are barren forms created by the\n     mind itself. Faith and doubt have a common element in the\n     deep sense of the insufficiency of the human mind to grasp\n     ultimate truths.... The world given to our outward senses is\n     shadowy and dreamy, except so far as we ascribe to it some\n     of the characteristics of will and spirit.... The world of\n     appearance is simply subordinate to the real world of our\n     will and affections.'\n\nBecause the 'abstract' sciences cannot and do not attempt to reach\nultimate truth, it is assumed that they are altogether 'barren forms,'\nThis is the error of much Oriental mysticism, which denies all value to\nwhat it regards as the lower categories. In his later writings Mr.\nTyrrell objects to being classed with the American and English\npragmatists--the school of Mr. William James. But the doctrine of these\npassages is ultra-pragmatist. The will, which is illegitimately\nstretched to include feeling,[80] is treated as the creator as well as\nthe discerner of reality. The 'world of appearance' is plastic in its\ngrasp. It is this metaphysical pragmatism which is really serviceable to\nModernism. If the categories of the understanding can be so disparaged\nas to be allowed no independent truth, value, or importance, all\ncollisions between faith and fact may be avoided by discrediting in\nadvance any conclusions at which science may arrive. Assertions about\n'brute fact' which are scientifically false may thus not be untrue when\ntaken out of the scientific plane, because outside that plane they are\nharmless word-pictures, soap-bubbles blown off by the poetical\ncreativeness of faith Any assertion about fact which commends itself to\nthe will and affections and which is proved by experience to furnish\nnutriment to the spiritual life, may be adhered to without scruple. It\nis not only useful, but true, in the only sense in which truth can be\npredicated of anything in the higher sphere.\n\nThe obvious criticism on this notion of religious truth as purely moral\nand practical is that it is itself abstract and one-sided. The universe\nas it appears to discursive thought, with its vast system of seemingly\nuniform laws, which operate without much consideration for our wishes or\nfeelings, must be at least an image of the real universe. We cannot\naccept the irreconcilable dualism between the will-world and the world\nof phenomena which the philosophical Modernists assume. The dualism, or\nrather the contradiction, is not in the nature of things, nor in the\nconstitution of our minds, but in the consciousness of the unhappy men\nwho are trying to combine two wholly incompatible theories. On the\ncritical side they are pure rationalists, much as they dislike the name.\nThey claim, as we have seen, to have advanced to philosophy through\ncriticism. But the Modernist critics start with very well-defined\npresuppositions. They ridicule the notion that 'God is a personage in\nhistory'; they assume that for the historian 'He cannot be found\nanywhere'; that He is as though He did not exist. On the strength of\nthis presupposition, and for no other reason, they proceed to rule out,\nwithout further investigation, all alleged instances of divine\nintervention in history. Unhampered by any of the misgivings which\npredispose the ordinary believer to conservatism, they follow the\nrationalist argument to its logical conclusions with startling\nruthlessness. And then, when the whole edifice of historical religion\nseems to have been overthrown to the very foundations, they turn round\nsuddenly and say that all their critical labours mean nothing for faith,\nand that we may go on repeating the old formulas as if nothing had\nhappened. The Modernists pour scorn on the scholastic\n'faculty-psychology,' which resolves human personality into a syndicate\nof partially independent agents; but, in truth, their attempt to blow\nhot and cold with the same mouth seems to have involved them in a more\ndisastrous self-disruption than has been witnessed in the history of\nthought since the fall of the Nominalists. In a sceptical and\ndisillusioned age their disparagement of 'intellectualism' or rather of\ndiscursive thought in all its operations, might find a response. But in\nthe twentieth century the science which, as critics, they follow so\nunswervingly will not submit to be bowed out of the room as soon as\nmatters of faith come into question. Our contemporaries believe that\nmatters of fact are important, and they insist, with ever-increasing\nemphasis, that they shall not be called upon to believe, as part of\ntheir religious faith, anything which as a matter of fact, is not true.\nThe Modernist critic, when pressed on this side, says that it is natural\nfor faith to represent its ideas in the form of historical facts, and\nthat it is this inevitable tendency which causes the difficulties\nbetween religion and science. A sane criticism will allow that this is\nvery largely true, but will not, we are convinced, be constrained to\nbelieve with M. Loisy that the historical original of the Christian\nRedeemer was the poor deluded enthusiast whom he portrays in 'Les\nEvangiles Synoptiques.'\n\nHowever this may be--and it must remain a matter of opinion--the very\nserious question arises, whether it is really natural for faith to\nrepresent its ideas in the form of historical facts when it knows that\nthese facts have no historical basis. The writers with whom we are\ndealing evidently think it is natural and inevitable, and we must assume\nthat they speak from their own spiritual experience. But this state of\nmind does not seem to be a very common one. Those who believe in the\ndivinity of Christ, but not in His supernatural birth and bodily\nresurrection, do not, as a rule, make those miracles the subject of\ntheir meditations, but find their spiritual sustenance in communion with\nthe 'Christ who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Those who\nregard Jesus only as a prophet sent by God to reveal the Father,\ngenerally pray only to the God whom He revealed, and cherish the memory\nof Jesus with no other feelings than supreme gratitude and veneration.\nThose, lastly, who worship in God only the Great Unknown who makes for\nrighteousness, find myths and anthropomorphic symbols merely disturbing\nin such devotions as they are still able to practise. In dealing with\nconvinced Voluntarists it is perhaps not disrespectful to suggest that\nthe difficult position in which they find themselves has produced a\npeculiar activity of the will, such as is seldom found under normal\nconditions.\n\nWe pass to the position of the Modernists in the Roman Catholic Church.\nIt is well known that the advisers of Pius X have committed the Papacy\nto a wholesale condemnation of the new movement. The reasons for this\ncondemnation are thus summed up by a distinguished ecclesiastic of that\nChurch[81]:\n\n     'Why has the Pope condemned the Modernists? (1) Because the\n     Modernists have denied that the divine facts related in the\n     Gospel are historically true. (2) Because they have denied\n     that Christ for most of His life knew that He was God, and\n     that He ever knew that He was the Saviour of the world. (3)\n     Because they have denied the divine sanction and the\n     perpetuity of the great dogmas which enter into the\n     Christian creed. (4) Because they have denied that Christ\n     Himself personally ever founded the Church or instituted the\n     Sacraments. (5) Because they deny and subvert the divine\n     constitution of the Church, by teaching that the Pope and\n     the bishops derive their powers, not directly from Christ\n     and His Apostles, but from the Christian people.'\n\n\nThe official condemnation is contained in two documents--the decree of\nthe Holy Inquisition, 'Lamentabili sane exitu,' July 3, 1907, and the\nEncyclical, 'Pascendi dominici gregis,' September 8, 1907. These\npronouncements are intended for Catholics; and their tone is that of\nauthoritative denunciation rather than of argument. In the main, the\nsummary which they give of Modernist doctrines is as fair as could be\nexpected from a judge who is passing sentence; but the papal theologians\nhave not always resisted the temptation to arouse prejudice by\nmisrepresenting the views which they condemn. We have not space to\nanalyse these documents, nor is it necessary to do so. It will be more\nto the purpose to consider whether, in spite of their official\ncondemnation, the Modernists are likely in the future to make good their\nfooting in the Roman Church.\n\nEven before the Encyclical the Modernists had used very bold language\nabout the authority of the Church.\n\n     'The visible Church (writes Mr. Tyrrell in his \"Much-abused\n     Letter\") is but a means, a way, a creature, to be used where\n     it helps, to be left where it hinders.... Who have taught us\n     that the consensus of theologians cannot err, but the\n     theologians themselves? Mortal, fallible, ignorant men like\n     ourselves! ... Their present domination is but a passing\n     episode in the Church's history.... May not history repeat\n     itself? [as in the transition from Judaism to Christianity].\n     Is God's arm shortened that He should not again out of the\n     very stones raise up seed to Abraham? May not Catholicism,\n     like Judaism, have to die in order that it may live again in\n     a greater and grander form? Has not every organism got its\n     limits of development, after which it must decay and be\n     content to survive in its progeny? Wine-skins stretch, but\n     only within measure; for there comes at last a\n     bursting-point when new ones must be provided.'\n\nIn a note he explains: 'The Church of the Catacombs became the Church of\nthe Vatican; who can tell what the Church of the Vatican may not turn\ninto?'\n\nIt is thus on a very elastic theory of development that the Modernists\nrely. 'The differences between the larval and final stages of many an\ninsect are often far greater than those which separate kind from kind.'\nAnd so this Proteus of a Church, which has changed its form so\ncompletely since the Gospel was first preached in the subterranean\ngalleries of Rome, may undergo another equally startling metamorphosis\nand come to believe in a God who never intervenes in history. We may\nhere remind our readers of Newman's tests of true development, and mark\nthe enormous difference.\n\nMr. Tyrrell's 'Much-abused Letter' reaches, perhaps, the high-water mark\nof Modernist claims. Not all the writers whom we have quoted would view\nwith complacency the prospect of the Catholic Church dying to live\nagain, or being content to live only in its progeny. The proverb about\nthe new wine-skins is one of sinister augury in such a connection. If\nthe Catholic Church is really in such an advanced stage of decay that it\nmust die before it can live, why do those who grasp the situation wish\nto keep it alive? Are they not precisely pouring their new wine into old\nbottles? Mr. Tyrrell himself draws the parallel with Judaism in the\nfirst century. Paul, he says, 'did not feel that he had broken with\nJudaism,' But the Synagogue did feel that he had done so, and history\nproved that the Synagogue was right.\n\nDevelopment, however great the changes which it exhibits, can only\nfollow certain laws; and the development of the Church of Rome has\nsteadily followed a direction opposite to that which the Modernists\ndemand that it shall take. Newman might plausibly claim that the\ndoctrines of purgatory and of the papal supremacy are logically involved\nin the early claims of the Roman Church. The claim is true at least in\nthis sense, that, given a political Church organised as an autocracy,\nthese useful doctrines were sure, in the interests of the government, to\nbe promulgated sooner or later. But there is not the slightest reason\nto suppose that the next development will be in the direction of that\npeculiar kind of Liberalism favoured by the Modernists. It is difficult\nto see how the Vatican could even meet the reformers half-way without\nmaking ruinous concessions.' This supernatural mechanism,' M. Loisy says\nin his last book, 'Modernism tends to ruin completely,' Just so; but the\nRoman Church lives entirely on the faith in supernatural mechanism. Her\nsacramental and sacerdotal system is based on supernatural mechanism--on\ndivine interventions in the physical world conditioned by human agency;\nher theology and books of devotion are full of supernatural mechanism;\nthe lives of her saints, her relics and holy places, the whole\nliterature of Catholic mysticism, the living piety and devotion of the\nfaithful, wherever it is still to be found, are based entirely on that\nvery theory of supernaturalistic dualism which the Modernist, when he\nacts as critic, begins by ruling out as devoid of any historical or\nscientific actuality. The attractiveness of Catholicism as a cult\ndepends almost wholly on its frank admission of the miraculous as a\nmatter of daily occurrence. To rationalise even contemporary history as\nM. Loisy has rationalised the Gospels would be suicide for Catholicism.\n\nIt is tempting to give a concrete instance by way of illustrating the\nimpassable chasm which divides Catholicism as a working system from the\nacademic scheme of transformation which we have been considering.\n\n     'The French Catholics (writes the _Times_ correspondent in\n     Paris on June 25, 1908) are awaiting with concern the report\n     of a special commission on a mysterious affair known as the\n     Miraculous Hailstones of Remiremont. On Sunday, May 26,\n     1907, during a violent storm that swept over that region of\n     the Vosges, among the great quantity of hailstones that fell\n     at the time a certain number were found split in two. On the\n     inner face of each of the halves, according to the local\n     papers that appeared the next day, was the image of the\n     Madonna venerated at Remiremont and known as Notre Dame du\n     Tresor. The local Catholics regarded it as a reply to the\n     municipal council's veto of the procession in honour of the\n     Virgin. So many people testified to having seen the\n     miraculous hailstones that the bishop of Saint-Die\n     instituted an inquiry; 107 men, women, and children were\n     heard by the parish priest, and certain well-known men of\n     science [names given] were consulted. The report has just\n     been published in the _Semaine Religieuse_, and concludes in\n     favour of the absolute authenticity of the fact under\n     inquiry. ....The last word rests with the bishop, who will\n     decide according to the conclusions of the report of the\n     special commission.'\n\nThis is Catholicism in practice. Those who think to reform it by their\ncontention that supernatural interventions can never be matters of fact,\nare liable to the reproach which they most dislike--that of scholastic\nintellectualism, and neglect of concrete experience.\n\nThis denial of the supernatural as a factor in the physical world seems\nto us alone sufficient to make the position of the Modernists in the\nRoman Church untenable. That form of Christianity stands or falls with\nbelief in miracles. It has always sought to bring the divine into human\nlife by intercalating acts of God among facts of nature. Its whole\nsacred literature, as we have said, is penetrated through and through by\nthe belief that God continually intervenes to change the course of\nevents. What would become of the cult of Mary and the saints if it were\nrecognised that God does not so interfere, and that the saints, if\ncriticism allows that they ever existed, can do nothing by their\nintercessions to avert calamity or bring blessing? The Modernist priest,\nit appears, can still say 'Ora pro nobis' to a Mary whose biography he\nbelieves to be purely mythical. At any rate, he can tell his consultants\nwith a good conscience that if they pray to Mary for grace they will\nreceive it. But what is the good of this make-believe? And, if it is\npart of a transaction in which the worshipper pays money for assistance\nwhich he believes to be miraculous and only obtainable through the good\noffices of the Church, is it even morally honest? The worshipper may be\nhelped by his subjective conviction that his cheque on the treasury of\nmerit has been honoured; but if, apart from the natural effects of\nsuggestion, nothing has been given him but a mere _placebo_, is the\nsacerdotal office one which an honourable man would wish to fill?\n\nWe have no wish whatever to make any imputation against the motives of\nthe brave men who have withstood the thunders of the Vatican, and who in\nsome cases have been professionally ruined by their courageous avowal of\ntheir opinions. Perhaps none but a Catholic priest can understand how\ngreat the sacrifice is when one in his position breaks away from the\nauthority of those who speak in the name of the Church, and deliberately\nincurs the charge, still so terrible in Catholic ears, of being a\nheretic and a teacher of heresy. Not one man in twenty would dare to\nface the storm of obloquy, hatred, and calumny which is always ready to\nfall on the head of a heretical priest. The Encyclical indicates the\nmeasures which are to be taken officially against Modernists. Pius X\nordains that all the young professors suspected of Modernism are to be\ndriven from their chairs in the seminaries; that infected books are to\nbe condemned indiscriminately, even though they may have received an\n_imprimatur_; that a committee of censors is to be established in every\ndiocese for the revision of books; that meetings of liberal priests or\nlaymen are to be forbidden; that every diocese is to have a vigilance\ncommittee to discover and inform against Modernists; and that young\nclerical Modernists are to be put 'in the lowest places,' and held up to\nthe contempt of their more orthodox or obsequious comrades. But this\npersecution is as nothing compared with the crushing condemnation with\nwhich the religious world, which is his only world, visits this kind of\ncontumacy; the loss of friendships, the grief and shame of loved\nrelatives, and the haunting dread that an authority so august as that\nwhich has condemned him cannot have spoken in vain. Assuredly all lovers\nof truth must do homage to the courage and self-sacrifice of these men.\nThe doubt which may be reasonably felt and expressed as to the\nconsistency of their attitude reflects no discredit on them personally.\nNevertheless, the alternative must be faced, that a 'modernised'\nCatholicism must either descend to deliberate quackery, or proclaim that\nthe bank from which the main part of her revenues is derived has stopped\npayment.\n\nWhat will be the end of the struggle, and in what condition will it\nleave the greatest Church in Christendom? There are some who think that\nthe Church will grow tired of the attitude of Canute, and will retreat\nto the chair which Modernism proffers, well above high-water mark. But\nthe policy of Rome has never been concession, but repression, even at\nthe cost of alienating large bodies of her supporters; and we believe\nthat in the present instance, as on former occasions, the Vatican will\ncontinue to proscribe Modernism until the movement within her body is\ncrushed. She can hardly do otherwise, for the alternative offered is not\na gradual reform of her dogmas, but a sweeping revolution. This we have\nmade abundantly clear by quotations from the Modernists themselves. If\nthe Vatican once proclaimed that such views about supernaturalism as\nthose which we have quoted are permissible, a deadly wound would be\ninflicted on the faith of simple Catholics all over the world. The Vicar\nof Christ would seem to them to have apostatised. The whole machinery of\npiety, as practised in Catholic countries, would be thrown out of gear.\nNor is there any strong body of educated laymen, such as exists in the\nProtestant Churches, who could influence the Papacy in the direction of\nLiberalism. Not only are the laity taught that their province is to\nobey, and never to call in question the decisions of ecclesiastics, but\nthe large majority of thoughtful laymen have already severed their\nconnection with the Church, and take no interest in projects for its\nreform. Everything points to a complete victory for the Jesuits and the\northodox party; and, much as we may regret the stifling of free\ndiscussion, and the expulsion of earnest and conscientious thinkers from\nthe Church which they love, it is difficult to see how any other policy\ncould be adopted.\n\nOf the Modernists, a few will secede, others will remain in the Church,\nthough in open revolt against the Vatican; but the majority will be\nsilenced, and will make a lip-submission to authority. The disastrous\nresults of the rebellion, and of the means taken to crush it, will be\napparent in the deterioration of the priesthood. Modern thought, it will\nbe said, has now been definitely condemned by the Church; war has been\nopenly declared against progress. Many who, before the crisis of the\nlast few years, believed it possible to enter the Roman Catholic\npriesthood without any sacrifice of intellectual honesty, will in the\nfuture find it impossible to do so. We may expect to see this result\nmost palpable in France, where men think logically, and are but little\ninfluenced by custom and prejudice. Unless the Republican Government\nblows the dying embers into a blaze by unjust persecution, it is to be\nfeared that Catholicism in that country may soon become 'une quantite\nnegligeable.' The prospects of the Church in Italy and Spain do not seem\nvery much better. In fact the only comfort which we can suggest to those\nwho regret the decline of an august institution, is that decadent\nautocracies have often shown an astonishing toughness. But as head of\nthe universal Church, in any true sense of the word, Rome has finished\nher life.\n\nA more vital question, for those at least who are Christians, but not\nRoman Catholics, is in what shape the Christian religion will emerge\nfrom the assaults upon traditional beliefs which science and historical\ncriticism are pressing home. We have given our reasons for rejecting the\nModernist attempt at reconstruction. In the first place, we do not feel\nthat we are required by sane criticism to surrender nearly all that M.\nLoisy has surrendered. We believe that the kingdom of God which Christ\npreached was something much more than a patriotic dream. We believe that\nHe did speak as never man spake, so that those who heard Him were\nconvinced that He was more than man. We believe, in short, that the\nobject of our worship was a historical figure. Nothing has yet come to\nlight, or is likely to come to light, which prevents us from identifying\nthe Christ of history with the Christ of faith, or the Christ of\nexperience.\n\nBut, if too much is surrendered on one side, too much is taken back on\nthe other. The contention that the progress of knowledge has left the\ntraditional beliefs and cultus of Catholics untouched is untenable. It\nis not too much to say that the whole edifice of supernaturalistic\ndualism under which Catholic piety has sheltered itself for fifteen\nhundred years has fallen in ruins to the ground. There is still enough\nsuperstition left to win a certain vogue for miraculous cures at\nLourdes, and split hailstones at Remiremont. But that kind of religion\nis doomed, and will not survive three generations of sound secular\neducation given equally to both sexes. The craving for signs and\nwonders--that broad road which attracts so many converts and wins so\nrapid a success--leads religion at last to its destruction, as Christ\nseems to have warned His own disciples. Science has been the slowly\nadvancing Nemesis which has overtaken a barbarised and paganised\nChristianity. She has come with a winnowing fan in her hand, and she\nwill not stop till she has thoroughly purged her floor. She has left us\nthe divine Christ, whatever may be the truth about certain mysterious\nevents in His human life. But assuredly she has not left us the right to\noffer wheedling prayers to a mythical Queen of Heaven; she has not left\nus the right to believe in such puerile stories as the Madonna-stamp on\nhailstones, in order to induce a comfortably pious state of mind.\n\nThe dualism alleged to exist between faith and knowledge will not serve.\nMan is one, and reality is one; there can no more be two 'orders of\nreality' not affecting each other than there can be two faculties in the\nhuman mind working independently of each other. The universe which is\ninterpreted to us by our understanding is not unreal, nor are its laws\npliant to our wills, as the pragmatists do vainly talk. It is a divinely\nordered system, which includes man, the roof and crown of things, and\nChrist, in whom is revealed to us its inner character and meaning. It is\nnot the province of faith either to flout scientific knowledge, or to\ncontaminate the material on which science works by intercalating what M.\nLe Roy calls 'transhistorical symbols'--myths in fact--which do not\nbecome true by being recognised as false, as the new apologetic seems to\nsuggest. Faith is not the born storyteller of Modernist theology. Faith\nis, on the practical side, just the resolution to stand or fall by the\nnoblest hypothesis; and, on the intellectual side, it is a progressive\ninitiation, by experiment which ends in experience, into the unity of\nthe good, the true, and the beautiful, founded on the inner assurance\nthat these three attributes of the divine nature have one source and\nconduct to one goal.\n\nThe Modernists are right in finding the primary principle of faith in\nthe depths of our undivided personality. They are right in teaching that\nfaith develops and comes into its own only through the activity of the\nwhole man. They are right in denying the name of faith to correct\nopinion, which may leave the character untouched. As Hartley Coleridge\nsays:\n\n    'Think not the faith by which the just shall live\n       Is a dead creed, a map correct of heaven,\n    Far less a feeling fond and fugitive,\n       A thoughtless gift, withdrawn as soon as given.\n    It is an affirmation and an act\n    That bids eternal truth be present fact.'\n\nFor all this we are grateful to them. But we maintain that the future of\nChristianity is in the hands of those who insist that faith and\nknowledge must be confronted with each other till they have made up\ntheir quarrel. The crisis of faith cannot be dealt with by establishing\na _modus vivendi_ between scepticism and superstition. That is all that\nModernism offers us; and it will not do. Rather we will believe, with\nClement of Alexandria, that piste he gnhosist, gnosthe de he phistist.\n\nIf this confidence in the reality of things hoped for and the\nhopefulness of things real be well-founded, we must wait in patience for\nthe coming of the wise master-builders who will construct a more truly\nCatholic Church out of the fragments of the old, with the help of the\nmaterial now being collected by philosophers, psychologists, historians,\nand scientists of all creeds and countries. When the time comes for this\nbuilding to rise, the contributions of the Modernists will not be\ndescribed as wood, hay, or stubble. They have done valuable service to\nbiblical criticism, and in other branches, which will be always\nrecognised. But the building will not (we venture to prophesy) be\nerected on their plan, nor by their Church. History shows few examples\nof the rejuvenescence of decayed autocracies. Nor is our generation\nlikely to see much of the reconstruction. The churches, as institutions,\nwill continue for some time to show apparent weakness; and other\nmoralising and civilising agencies will do much of their work. But,\nsince there never has been a time when the character of Christ and the\nethics which he taught have been held in higher honour than the present,\nthere is every reason to expect that the next 'Age of Faith,' when it\ncomes, will be of a more genuinely Christian type than the last.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [50] Bishop Creighton always emphasised this view of Roman\n     Catholicism. 'The Roman Church,' he wrote, 'is the most\n     complete expression of Erastianism, for it is not a Church\n     at all, but a state in its organisation; and the worst form\n     of state--an autocracy.' (_Life and Letters_, ii. 375.)\n\n     [51] In contrast with 'henotheism' or 'monolatry,' such as\n     the worship of the early Hebrews.\n\n     [52] 'Nunc defecit certa successio in omnibus ecclesiis\n     apostolicis, praeterquam in Romana, et ideo ex testimonio\n     huius solius ecclesiae sumi potest certum argumentum ad\n     probandas apostolicas traditiones.' Bellarmine, _De Verbo\n     Dei scripto et non scripto_, IV, ix, 10.\n\n     [53] Bellarmine, _De Laicis_, III, xxi, 22.\n\n     [54]: Santayana, _Return in Religion_, p. 108.\n\n     [55] Tertullian, _De Virg. Vel_., 1.\n\n     [56] Encyclical of October 27, 1901.\n\n     [57] In _The Programme of Modernism_, and _Quello che\n     vogliamo_.\n\n     [58] _The Programme of Modernism_, p. 16.\n\n     [59] _The Programme of Modernism_, pp. 50-54.\n\n     [60] Loisy, _Simples Reflexions_, p. 168.\n\n     [61] _Ibid. L'Evangile et l'Eglise_, pp. 3-5.\n\n     [62] _Ibid. Les Evangiles Synoptiques_, p. 119.\n\n     [63] _Ibid_.\n\n     [64] _Ibid_. p. 143.\n\n     [65] _Ibid_. pp. 138, 139.\n\n     [66] _Ibid_. p. 104.\n\n     [67] Loisy, _Les Evangiles Synoptiques_, p. 166.\n\n     [68] _Ibid_. p. 169.\n\n     [69] _Ibid. Le Quatrieme Evangile_, passim.\n\n     [70] Loisy, _Les Evangiles Synoptiques_, p. 214.\n\n     [71] _Ibid_. p. 218.\n\n     [72] Loisy, _Les Evangiles Synoptiques_, p. 223.\n\n     [73] _The Programme of Modernism_, pp. 82, 83.\n\n     [74] _Ibid_. p. 90.\n\n     [75] Loisy, _Simples Reflexions_, p. 211.\n\n     [76] Laberthonniere, _Le Realisme Chretien et l'Idealisme\n     Grec,_ pp. 44, 45.\n\n     [77] _Malachi_, ii. 6.\n\n     [78] Le Roy, _Dogme et Critique_, p. 26.\n\n     [79] _Lex Orandi_, p. 165 (abridged).\n\n     [80] This is not carelessness on the part of the writer.\n     Paulsen also says (_Introduction to Philosophy_, p. 112), 4\n     It is impossible to separate feeling and willing from each\n     other.... Only in the highest stage of psychical life, in\n     man, does a partial separation of feeling from willing\n     occur.' But it is the highest stage of psychical life, the\n     human, with which we are alone concerned; and in this stage\n     it is both possible and necessary to distinguish between\n     feeling and willing. Some Voluntarists, hard pressed by\n     facts, try to make 'will' cover the whole of conscious and\n     subconscious life, with the exception of logical reasoning,\n     which is excluded as a sort of pariah!\n\n     [81] Mgr. Moyes, in _The Nineteenth Century_, December,\n     1907.\n\n\n\n\nCARDINAL NEWMAN\n\n(1912)\n\n\nThe life of Newman was divided into two nearly equal portions by his\nchange of religion in October 1845. For the earlier half of his career\nwe have long had his own narrative; and Newman is a prince of\nautobiographers. It was his wish that the 'Apologia' should be the final\nand authoritative account of his life in the Church of England, and of\nthe steps by which he was led to transfer his allegiance to another\ncommunion. The voluminous literature of the Tractarian movement, which\nincludes large collections of Newman's own letters, has confirmed the\naccuracy of his narrative, and has made any further description of that\nstrange episode in English University life superfluous. With the\n'Apologia' and Dean Church's 'Oxford Movement' before him, the reader\nneeds no more. Mr. Wilfrid Ward has therefore been well advised to\nadhere loyally to the Cardinal's wishes, by confining himself to the\nlast half of Newman's life, after a brief summary of his childhood,\nyouth, and middle age till 1845. Nevertheless, it is misleading to give\nthe title 'The Life of Cardinal Newman' to a work which is only, as it\nwere, the second volume of a biography. There are very few men, however\nlong-lived, who have not done much of their best work before the age of\nforty-five, and Newman was certainly not one of the exceptions. From\nevery point of view, except that of the Roman Catholic ecclesiastical\nhistorian, Newman's Anglican career was far more interesting and\nimportant than his residence at Birmingham. He will live in history, not\nas the recluse of Edgbaston, nor as the wearer of the Cardinal's hat\nwhich fell to his lot, almost too late to save the credit of the\nVatican, when he had passed the normal limit of human life, but as the\nreal founder and leader of nineteenth century Anglo-Catholicism, the\nmovement which he created and then tried in vain to destroy. The\nprojects and failures and successes of his later life seem very pale and\nalmost petty when compared with the activities of the years while he was\nmaking a chapter of English history. His greatest book, though it was\nwritten many years after his secession, is the record of a drama which\nended in the interview with Father Dominic the Passionist. It is 'The\nHistory of my Religious Opinions'; and after 1845 his religious opinions\nhad, as he says himself, no further history. The incomparable style\nwhich will give him a permanent place among the masters of English prose\nwas the product of his life at Oxford, where he lived in a society of\nhighly cultivated men, whose writings show many of the same excellences\nas his own. Newman's English is only the Oriel manner at its best. Such\nan instrument could hardly have been forged at the Birmingham Oratory,\nwhere his associates, who had followed him from Littlemore, were of such\nan inferior type that Mark Pattison, who knew them, was surprised that\nhe could be satisfied with their company. His best sermons and his best\npoetry belong to his Anglican period. 'The Dream of Gerontius,' with all\nits tender grace, is far less virile than 'Lead, kindly Light,' and\nother short poems of his youth. Moreover, his record as a Roman\necclesiastic is one of almost unrelieved failure. If he had died\neighteen years after his secession, when he already looked upon himself\nas an old man whose course was nearly run, he would have been regarded\nas one who had sacrificed a great career in the Church of England for\nneglect and obscurity. From the first he was distrusted by the 'Old\nCatholics' (the old Roman Catholic families in England), and suspected\nat the Vatican, where Talbot assiduously represented him as 'the most\ndangerous man in England.' When Manning, Archdeacon of Chichester,\nfollowed his example and joined the Roman Church, Newman was confronted\nwith a still more subtle and relentless opponent, whose hostility was\nnever relaxed till the accession of a Liberal Pope made it no longer\npossible to resist the bestowal of tardy honours upon a feeble\noctogenarian. The recognition came in time to soothe his decline, but\ntoo late to enable him to leave his mark upon the administration of the\nRoman Church.\n\nThe main events in a very uneventful career are narrated at length in\nMr. Ward's volumes. After his 'conversion' Newman first resided in a\nsmall community at Maryvale (Oscott) but soon left it on a journey to\nRome, where he spent some time at the Collegio di Propaganda, and had a\nforetaste of the distrust with which Pius IX and his advisers always\nregarded him. His plan at this time was to found a theological seminary\nat Maryvale; and in this scheme he had the support of Wiseman, the\nablest Roman ecclesiastic in the United Kingdom. But the 'Essay on\nDevelopment,' with its unscholastic language and unfamiliar line of\napologetic, seriously alarmed the theologians at Rome; and Newman,\naccepting the first of many rebuffs, abandoned this project in favour of\nanother. He resolved to join the Oratorians, an order founded by St.\nPhilip Neri, and obtained permission to modify, in his projected\nestablishment, the rules of the Order, which, among other things,\nprescribed frequent floggings in public. He visited Naples, and came\nback a believer in the liquefaction of the saint's blood. The amazing\nletter to Henry Wilberforce, writter from Santa Croce, shows that he was\nthe most docile and credulous of converts. Even the Holy House at Loreto\ncaused him no difficulty. 'He who floated the ark on the surges of a\nworld-wide sea, and inclosed in it all living things, who has hidden the\nterrestrial paradise, who said that faith might remove mountains ...\ncould do this wonder also.' It 'may have been'; 'everybody believes it\nin Rome'; therefore Newman 'has no doubt'!\n\nThe new Oratory was placed by Papal brief at Birmingham. The first\nmembers of it were his friends who had left the English Church with him.\nRecruits soon came in, and branch houses were talked of. But for many\nyears Newman had reason to complain of neglect and want of sympathy. He\neven found empty churches when he preached in London. In conjunction\nwith Faber, he next started a series of 'Lives of the Saints,' in which\nthe most absurd 'miracles' were accepted without question as true. The\n'Old Catholics,' who had no stomach for such food, protested; and\nNewman, this time thoroughly irritated, had to admit another failure.\nThe Oratory, however, and its London offshoot under Faber were\nprosperous, and the churches where Newman preached were not long empty.\nIn 1850 we find him in better spirits. He employed his energies in a\nseries of clever lectures on 'Anglican Difficulties,' in which he\nridiculed the Church of his earlier vows with all the refined cruelty of\nwhich he was a master. But he was soon in trouble again. One Dr.\nGiacinto Achilli, formerly a Dominican friar, gave lectures in London\nupon the scandals of the Roman Inquisition, which had imprisoned him for\nattacking the Catholic faith and fomenting sedition. The temper of the\nBritish public at this time made it ready to believe anything to the\ndiscredit of the Roman Church, and Achilli became a popular hero.\nWiseman published a libellous article upon him in the _Dublin Review_,\nwhich passed unnoticed. But when Newman repeated the charges of\nprofligacy in a public lecture, Achilli brought an action for libel,\nwhich in costs and expenses cost Newman L12,000. The money however was\npaid, and much more than paid, by his co-religionists. This trial was\nquickly followed by the inauguration of a scheme for founding a Catholic\nUniversity in Ireland, the avowed object of which was to withdraw young\nCatholics from the liberalising influences of mixed education. This\nscheme was sure to appeal strongly to Newman. Liberalism had come in\nwith a rush at Oxford, after the dissipation of the 'long nightmare' (as\nMark Pattison calls it) while the University was dominated by religious\nmedievalism. The Oxford of Newman had become the Oxford of Jowett. The\nablest of Newman's young friends and disciples, such as Mark Pattison\nand J.A. Froude, were now in the opposite camp, full of anger and\ndisgust at the seductive influences from which they had just escaped.\nNewman, as might be expected, was anxious to protect Catholic students\nfrom similar dangers, and accepted the post of Rector of the proposed\nCatholic University. He intended it to provide 'philosophical defences\nof Catholicity and Revelation, and create a Catholic literature.' The\nlectures in which he expounded his ideals at Dublin were a great\nsuccess, and he returned to England full of hope. With a curious\ninability to read the character of one who was to be his worst enemy, he\noffered Manning the post of Vice-Rector. Manning's refusal was followed\nby his failure to obtain the support of Ward, Henry Wilberforce, and\nothers; and Catholic opinion in Ireland was much divided. For three or\nfour years Newman was engaged in ineffectual efforts to push his scheme\nforward. At last, in 1855, he was installed as Rector, and began his\nwork at Dublin. A fine church was built at St. Stephen's Green with the\nsurplus of the Achilli subscriptions, and Newman produced some excellent\nliterary work in the form of University lectures and sermons. But the\nwhole movement was viewed with distrust by the Irish ecclesiastics, who,\nas he said in a moment of impatience, 'regard any intellectual man as\nbeing on the road to perdition.' There was a cloud over his work from\nfirst to last. He had been promised a bishopric, without which he was\nmade to feel himself in an inferior position by the Irish prelates; but\nthe promise was not fulfilled. The Irish objected to one or two English\nprofessors on his staff, because they were English. Dr. Cullen, the\nruling spirit in the Irish hierarchy, was a narrow conservative, who\nwished to use Newman merely as an instrument against progressive\ntendencies in Church and State. In 1857 he resigned an impossible task,\nand returned to Birmingham.\n\nNew undertakings followed, no more successful than the abortive\nuniversity scheme. There was to be a new translation of the Bible, and a\nnew Catholic magazine called the _Rambler_. The former enterprise was\nalready well advanced when the general indifference of the Catholic\npublic caused it to be abandoned. The _Rambler_, the contributors to\nwhich used a freedom of discussion unpalatable to Roman ecclesiastics,\nstruggled on amid a storm of criticism till 1859, when Newman, who was\nthen himself editor, resigned, and one more humiliating failure was\nregistered. The management of the magazine passed into other hands. The\nOratory School at Birmingham, a much less contentious undertaking, was\nsuccessfully launched in the same year.\n\nIn 1860 came the emancipation of the States of the Church by Cavour and\nVictor Emmanuel. Newman referred to the Piedmontese as 'sacrilegious\nrobbers,' but his advocacy of the temporal power was not strong enough\nto please the Vatican, while the strength of Manning's language left\nnothing to be desired. Newman became more unpopular than ever. His\nreputation suffered by his former connection with the _Rambler_ and his\nsupposed connection with the _Home and Foreign Review_, which Acton\nintended to represent the views of progressive Catholics, till it also\nwas snuffed out by the hierarchy. The five years from 1859 to 1864 are\nconsidered by Mr. Ward to have been the saddest in Newman's life. He\nfelt, truly enough, that the dominant party had no sympathy with his\naims, and that he was treated as 'some wild incomprehensible beast, a\nspectacle for Dr. Wiseman to exhibit to strangers, as himself being the\nhunter who captured it.' 'All through my life I have been plucked,' he\nwrites to an old Oxford friend. There was even in his mind at this time\na wistful yearning after the friends and the Church that he had left--a\nfeeling, doubtless transient, but significant, which his biographer has\nallowed to show itself in a few pages of his book. After reminding\nhimself, in his diary, of the warning against those who, after putting\ntheir hand to the plough, 'look back,' he proceeds to look back, because\nhe cannot help it.\n\n     'I live more and more in the past, and in hopes that the\n     past may revive in the future.... I think, as death comes\n     on, his cold breath is felt on soul as on body, and that,\n     viewed naturally, my soul is half dead now, whereas then [in\n     his Protestant days] it was in the freshness and fervour of\n     youth.... I say the same of my state of mind from 1834 to\n     1845, when I became a Catholic. It is a time past and\n     gone--it relates to a work done and over. \"Quis mihi\n     tribuat, ut sim iuxta menses pristinos, secundum dies,\n     quibus Deus custodiebat me? Quando splendebat lucerna eius\n     super caput meum, et ad lumen eius ambulabam in tenebris?\"\n     ... I have no friend at Rome; I have laboured in England, to\n     be misrepresented, backbitten and scorned. I have laboured\n     in Ireland, with a door ever shut in my face....\n     Contemporaneously with this neglect on the part of those for\n     whom I laboured, there has been a drawing towards me on the\n     part of Protestants. Those very books and labours which\n     Catholics did not understand, Protestants did. I am under\n     the temptation of looking out for, if not courting,\n     Protestant praise.... What I wrote as a Protestant has had\n     far greater power, force, meaning, success, than my Catholic\n     works.'\n\nSuch reflections might seem to indicate a disposition to return to the\nAnglican fold. But a man must have vanquished pride in its most\ninsidious form before he can leave the Church of Rome for any other. The\naristocratic _hauteur_ of the _civis Romanus_ among barbarians lives on\nin the sentiment of the Roman Catholic towards Protestants. When Newman\nwas publicly charged with intending to return to Anglicanism, this\nspirit broke out in a disagreeable and insulting manner.\n\nThe bitterness of these five years of neglect, in which he had been\neating his heart in silence, must be remembered in connexion with the\nfamous Kingsley controversy, which in 1864 roused him to put on his\narmour and fight for his reputation. There had always been an element of\ncombativeness in Newman's disposition. '_Nescio quo pacto_, my spirits\nmost happily rise at the prospect of danger,' he wrote early in life.\nAnd when he could persuade himself that not only his honour but that of\nthe Church was at stake, he could feel and show the true Catholic\nferocity, the cruellest spirit on earth. 'A heresiarch,' he had written\neven in his Anglican days, 'should meet with no mercy. He must be dealt\nwith by the competent authority as if he were embodied evil. To spare\nhim is a false and dangerous pity. It is to endanger the souls of\nthousands, and it is uncharitable towards himself'! This was the temper,\nsoured by defeat and not mellowed by age, which Charles Kingsley in an\nevil moment for himself chose wantonly to provoke. At Christmas 1863\nthere appeared in _Macmillan's Magazine_ a review of Froude's 'History\nof England,' in which Kingsley wrote 'Truth for its own sake has never\nbeen a virtue with the Roman clergy. Father Newman informs us that it\nneed not be, and on the whole ought not to be--that cunning is the\nweapon which Heaven has given to the saints wherewith to withstand the\nbrute male force of the wicked world.' This charge was in fact based on\na careless reading, or an imperfect recollection, of the twentieth\ndiscourse in 'Sermons on Subjects of the Day.' The discourse in question\nis a somewhat nauseous glorification of the servile temper, but it only\nsays that the meekness of the saints is (by Divine providence) so\nsuccessful that it is always mistaken for craft. The _imputation_ of\ncunning is therefore a note of sanctity in its victim. Kingsley ought to\nhave read the sermon again, and withdrawn unreservedly from an untenable\nposition. But he thought that something less than a complete apology\nwould serve; and so gave Newman the opportunity of his life. When the\nwithdrawal which he offered was rejected, Kingsley made matters ten\ntimes worse for himself by an ill-considered pamphlet called 'What then\ndoes Dr. Newman mean?' In this effusion he vents all his scorn and\nhatred for Catholicism--for its tortuous tactics, its monstrous\ncredulity and appetite for miracles, which must proceed, according to\nhim, either from infantile folly or from deliberate imposture.\nForgetting altogether that he has to defend himself against a specific\ncharge of slander, he offers his great opponent the choice between\nwriting himself down a knave or a fool--a knave if he pretends to\nbelieve in the Holy Coat and the blood of St. Januarius, a fool if he\ndoes believe in them.\n\nThe coarseness of this attack upon an elderly man of saintly character\nand acknowledged intellectual eminence, who had to all appearance\nblighted a great career by honestly obeying his conscience, offended the\nBritish public, which was now fully disposed to give a respectful and\nfavourable hearing to whatever Newman might care to say in reply. In a\nCatholic country it would have been useless for a Protestant, however\nfalsely attacked, to appeal to Catholic public opinion for justice; but\nNewman understood the English character, and saw his splendid chance.\n\nThe famous defence was, from every point of view except the highest, a\ncomplete triumph. And although Hort was strictly accurate in describing\nthe treatment of Kingsley as 'horribly unchristian,' it is demanding too\nmuch of human nature to expect a master of fence, when wantonly attacked\nwith a bludgeon, to abstain from the pleasure of pricking his adversary\nscientifically in the tender parts of his body. The bitterest passages\nwere excised in later editions; and the 'Apologia' remains a masterpiece\nof autobiography, and a powerful defence of Catholicism. To Newman this\nappeared to be the turning-point in his fortunes. He felt strong enough\nto administer a severe snub to Monsignor Talbot, his old enemy, who,\nhearing of the success the 'Apologia,' invited him to preach at Rome.\nThen at once he threw himself into a great scheme for founding an\nOratory at Oxford. Eight and a half acres were bought between Worcester\nCollege, the Clarendon Press, the Observatory, and Beaumont Street, a\nmagnificent site, which the Oratorians acquired for only L8400. But here\nagain he was thwarted. W.G. Ward opposed the scheme with all his might,\ninsisting on the necessity of 'preserving the purity of a Catholic\natmosphere throughout the whole course of education.' The whole tendency\nof the Ultramontane movement was to secure, before all other things, a\nbody of militant young Catholics to fight the battles of the Church.\nNewman was willing to support the English Church in its warfare against\nunbelief; to the Ultramontane a Protestant is as certainly damned as an\natheist, and is more mischievous as being less amenable to Catholic\ninfluence. Manning and Talbot seem to have given the project its _coup\nde grace_ at Rome, and Newman sold the land which he had bought. He was\nbitterly disappointed; but the growth of public esteem had given him\nself-confidence, and he did not again fall into despondency, though he\nhad a strange presentiment of approaching death, which prompted his last\nfamous poem, 'The Dream of Gerontius.' A second attempt to go to Oxford\nwas thwarted by enemies at Home and in England in 1866-7. The extreme\nparty, with Manning, now Archbishop, at their head, seemed to be\nvictorious all along the line. They were able to proceed to their\nsupreme triumph in the Vatican Council which issued the dogma of Papal\nInfallibility. Newman, while others were intriguing and haranguing, was\nquietly engaged in preparing his subtlest and (on one side) his most\ncharacteristic work, 'The Grammar of Assent,' an attempt at a Catholic\napologetic on a 'personalist,' as opposed to an 'intellectualist' basis.\nHe declined to take an active part in the theological conferences about\ninfallibility, being by this time well aware how little weight such\narguments as he could bring were likely to have at Rome. He was\ndisgusted at the insolent aggressiveness of the Ultramontanes, but he\nhad no wish to combat it. The situation was hopeless, and he knew it.\nThe death of several friends increased the sense of isolation, and\nduring the years 1875 to 1879 his silence and depression were very\nnoticeable to those who lived with him. His dearest friend, Ambrose St.\nJohn, was one of several who died about this time. But Trinity College,\nOxford, made him an honorary fellow in 1877, an honour which seemed to\nprognosticate the far higher distinction which was soon to be conferred\nupon him.\n\nThe death of Pius IX in 1878 brought to an end the long reign of\nobscurantism at the Vatican, and with the election of Leo XIII Newman\nemerged from the cloud under which he had remained for more than a\ngeneration. The new Pope lost no time in making him a Cardinal, though\neven now the prize seemed to be on the point of slipping through his\nfingers. He valued the honour immensely as setting the official seal of\napprobation on his life's work, and the last ten years of his life were\nquietly happy. He was able to mingle actively in affairs of public\ninterest, and to write long letters, till near the end. He died on\nAugust 11, 1890, in his ninetieth year, and was buried, by his own\nrequest, in the same grave with his friend Ambrose St. John.\n\nWhy is it that this sad, isolated, broken life, in which the young man\nrenounces the creed of the boy, and the elder man pours scorn upon the\nloyalties of his prime; which found its last haven in a society which\nwished to make a tool of him but distrusted him too much for even this\npitiful service, has still an absorbing interest for our generation? For\nit is not only in England that Newman's fame lives and grows. In France\nthere is a cult of Newman, which has produced biographies by Bremond and\nFaure, as well as a history of the Catholic Revival in England by\nThureau-Dangin. In England, besides Dean Church's 'Oxford Movement,' we\nhave biographies by R.H. Hutton and W. Barry, and appreciations or\ndepreciations by E. Abbott, Leslie Stephen, Froude, Mark Pattison, and\nseveral others.\n\nThe interest is mainly personal and psychological. Newman's writings,\nand his life, are a 'human document' in a very peculiar degree. Bremond\nis right in calling attention to the _autocentrism_ of Newman. 'Although\n(he says) the words \"I\" and \"me\" are relatively rare in Newman's\nwritings, whether as preacher, novelist, controversialist, philosopher,\nor poet, he always reveals and always describes himself.' Even his\nhistorical portraits are reconstructed from his inner consciousness;\nhence their historical falsity--all ages are mixed in his histories--and\ntheir philosophical truth. In a sense he was the most reserved of men.\nWe do not know whether he had any ordinary temptations; we do not know\nwhether he ever fell in love. But the texture of his mind and the growth\nof his opinions have been laid bare to us with the candour of a saint\nand the accuracy of a dissector or analyst. He reminds us of De Quincey,\nwho also could tell the story of his own life, but no other, and whose\nstyle, like his own, was modelled on the literary traditions of the\neighteenth century.\n\nHe has left us, in the 'Apologia,' a picture of his precocious and\ndreamy boyhood, when he lived in a world of his own, peopled by angels\nand spirits, a world in which the supernatural was the only nature. He\nwas lonely and reserved, then as always. It is not for nothing that in\nhis sermons he expatiates so often on the impenetrability of the human\nsoul. A nature so self-centred has always something hard and inhuman\nabout it; he was loved, but loved little in return. And yet he craved\nfor more affection than he could reciprocate. 'I cannot ever realise to\nmyself,' he wrote once, 'that anyone loves me.' It is a common feeling\nin imaginative, withdrawn characters. Deepseated in his nature was a\nreverence for the hidden springs of thought, action, and belief. When he\nspoke of 'conscience,' as he did continually, he meant, not the faculty\nwhich decides ethical problems, but the undivided soul-nature which\nunderlies the separate activities of thought, will, and feeling. In this\nsense the epigrammatist was right who said that 'to Newman his own\nnature was a revelation which he called conscience.' He 'followed the\ngleam,' uncertain whither it would lead him. The poem 'Lead, kindly\nLight' is the most intimate self-revelation that he ever made. This\nmental attitude, which he took early in life, became the foundation of\nhis 'personalist' philosophy, and of the anti-intellectualism which was\nthe negative side of it. But this reliance on the inner light, which\nnearly made a mystic of him, was clouded by a haunting fear of God's\nwrath, which imparts a gloomy tinge to his Anglican sermons, and which,\nwhile he was halting between the English Church and Rome, plied him with\nthe very unmystical question 'Where shall I be most _safe_?' an argument\nwhich he had used repeatedly and without scruple in his parochial\nsermons.[82]\n\nIt is nevertheless true that this self-centred spirit was, at least in\nearly life, impressionable and open to the influence of others. His\nfriendship with Hurrell Froude and Keble affected his opinions\nconsiderably: and still more potent was the pervading intangible\ninfluence of Oxford--the academic atmosphere. It cannot indeed be said\nthat the University was at this time in a healthy condition. Mark\nPattison has described with caustic contempt the intellectual lethargy\nof the place, and the miserable quality of the lectures. Oxford was\nstill _de facto_ a close clerical corporation, and in most colleges\n'clubbable men' rather than scholars were chosen for the fellowships.\nOriel won its unique position by breaking through this tradition, and\nalso by making originality rather than success in the university\nexaminations the main qualification for election. But even at Oriel, and\namong the ablest men, there was great ignorance of much that was being\nthought and written elsewhere. Knowledge of German was rare. Even the\nclassics were not read in a humanistic spirit. 'Of the world of wisdom\nand sentiment--of poetry and philosophy, of social and political\nexperience, contained in the Latin and Greek classics, and of the true\nrelation of the degenerate and semi-barbarous Christian writers of the\nfourth century to that world--Oxford, in 1830, had never dreamt.[83]\nTheological prejudice in fact distorted the whole outlook of the\nresident fellows, and confounded all estimation of relative values.\nNewman never, all through his life, took a step towards overcoming this\nearly prejudice. He imagined a golden age of the Church, or several\ngolden ages, and found them in 'the first three centuries,' in the time\nof Alfred the Great or of Edward the Confessor, or in the seventeenth\ncentury. He was only sure that the sixteenth century was made of much\nbaser metal. This unhistorical idealisation of the past, even of a\nbarbarous past, was very characteristic of Newman and his friends. They\nbequeathed to the Anglican Church the strange legend of an age of pure\ndoctrine and heroic practice, to which it should be our aim to 'return.'\nThe real strength of this legend lies in the fact that it has no\nhistorical foundation. The ideal which is presented as a return or a\nrevival is nothing of the kind, but a creation of our own time,\nprojected by the imagination into the past, from which it comes back\nwith a halo of authority. Newman had his full share of these illusions.\nIn his youth and prime he was more of an Englishman than an Anglican. He\ndespised foreigners, unless they were Catholic saints, could not bear\nthe sight of the _tricolor_, and hated all the 'ideas of the\nRevolution.' His dictum, 'Luther is dead, but Hildebrand and Loyola are\nalive,' throws a flood of light upon the contents of his mind, as does\nthe truly British prejudice which caused him to be horrified at the\nsight of ships coaling at Malta 'on a holy day.' His range of ideas was\nso much restricted that Bremond, a sincere admirer, says that his\nimagination lived on 'une poignee de souvenirs d'enfant.' How tragic was\nthe fate which caught this loyal Englishman and more than loyal Oxonian\nin the meshes of a cosmopolitan institution in which England counted for\nlittle and Oxford for nothing at all!\n\nThe Reform of 1832 seemed to threaten the English Church with\ndestruction. Arnold in this year wrote 'The Church, as it now stands, no\nhuman power can save.' The bishops were stunned and bewildered by the\nunexpected outbreak of popular hostility. Old methods of defence were\nplainly useless; some new plan of campaign must be devised against the\ndouble assault of political radicalism and theological liberalism. To\nNewman both alike were of the devil; theological liberalism especially\nwas only specious infidelity. He never had the slightest inkling that a\ndeep religious earnestness and love of truth underlay the revolt against\northodox tradition. His fighting instincts were aroused. When Keble\nattributed the scheme for suppressing some Irish bishopries to 'national\napostasy,' he rushed to arms in defence of Church privileges and\nproperty. In the first Tract (1833) he says:\n\n     'A notion has gone abroad that the people can take away your\n     power. They think they have given it and can take it away.\n     They have been deluded into a notion that present palpable\n     usefulness, produceable results, acceptableness to your\n     flocks--that these and such-like are the tests of your\n     Divine commission. Enlighten them in this matter. Exalt our\n     holy fathers the Bishops, as the representatives of the\n     Apostles, and the Angels of the Churches, and magnify your\n     office, as being ordained by them to take part in their\n     ministry.'\n\nThat was the keynote of the whole Tractarian movement. A weapon was\nneeded to smite liberalism. Nothing but a compact and powerful\norganisation could repel the foe. God must have provided such an\norganisation: a Divine society, certain of ultimate victory, must exist\nsomewhere. Newman and his friends hoped to find it in the Anglican\nChurch; and such was the power of their contagious zeal and confident\nenthusiasm, that the immediate danger was actually staved off, and the\nEstablishment was allowed a new lease of life. But the national Church\nof England was not constituted to resist the national will, and the\nattempt to reorganise it on Catholic lines was fore-doomed to failure.\nAnd so, since the assumption that a great institutional fighting Church\n_must_ exist was never even questioned, when Anglicanism failed him\nthere was no other refuge but Rome.\n\nHe was certainly more logical than his friends who remained behind.\nAnglo-Catholicism has its theoretical basis in a definition of\nCatholicity which is repudiated by all other Catholics; its traditions\nare largely legendary. But it is an eclectic system well suited to the\nEnglish character, and the distorted view of history which Newman\nbequeathed to the party has enabled it to borrow much that is good from\ndifferent sides, without any sense of inconsistency. The idea of a\nDivine society has been and is the inspiration of thousands of ardent\nworkers in the Anglican Church. It lifted the religion of many\nEnglishmen from the somewhat gross and bourgeois condition in which the\nmovement found it, to a pure and unworldly idealism. And, unlike most\nother religious revivals, especially in this country, it has remained\nremarkably free from unhealthy emotionalism and hysterics. The social\natmosphere of Oxford, always alien to mawkish sentiment, penetrated the\nwhole movement, and maintained in it for many years a certain sanity and\ndignity which, while they doubtless prevented it from spreading widely\nin the middle class, made the Tractarians respected by men of taste and\neducation. But these influences could not be permanent. The goodwill of\nthe Tractarian firm (if we may so express it) has now been acquired by\nmen with very different aims and methods. The ablest members of the\nparty are plunging violently into social politics, while the rank and\nfile in increasing numbers are fluttering round the Roman candle, into\nwhich many of them must ultimately fall.\n\nThe progress of the movement between 1833 and 1845 was almost entirely\nin the direction of teaching the clergy to 'magnify their office.' The\nother part of the scheme, the combat against theological liberalism,\nfell quite into the background. The main reason for this was that during\nthose strange years the theologians so completely dominated Oxford that\nliberalism could hardly raise its head, and was despised as well as\nhated. Only after Newman's secession could the regeneration of the\nUniversity begin. Then indeed liberalism came in like a flood, though it\nwas a very shallow flood in some cases. This was the day of the\nself-satisfied young rationalist, 'ecarte par une plaisanterie des\ncroyances dont la raison d'un Pascal ne reussit pas a se degager,' as\nRenan says--an orgy of facile free thought which after a generation was\nchastised by another clerical reaction.\n\nIf Newman could have foreseen the victory of his party in the English\nChurch, he might perhaps have been content to remain in it. We cannot\ntell. But it is doubtful whether he would have taken Pusey's place as\nleader of the party. Newman's influence was disturbing and subtly\ndisintegrating to every cause for which he laboured. His startling\ncandour often seemed like treachery. He could not work with others, and\nbroke with nearly all his friends, retaining only his disciples. He\nconfessed himself a bad judge of character. It is doubtful, after all,\nwhether he was much injured by the jealousy and almost instinctive fear\nwhich he inspired among the Roman Catholic hierarchy. If he had been\nallowed to take the place due to his abilities, his character, and his\nreputation, what could he have done that he was unable to do at\nEdgbaston? We cannot fancy him plunged in crooked ecclesiastical\nintrigue, like that _Inglese italianato_, Cardinal Manning. Still less\ncan we fancy him haranguing strikers, and stealing the credit of\ncomposing a trade dispute. No doubt he suffered under the sense of\ninjury; but probably he did what was in him to do. If the Roman Church\nwould not use him as a tool, it was probably because he would not have\nbeen a good tool. There are some mistakes which that Church seldom\nmakes; it knows how to choose its men.\n\nWhat will be the verdict of history on the type of Catholicism which\nNewman represented? He was kept out in the cold by a conservative Pope,\nand honoured by a liberal Pope. Which was right, from the point of view\nof Catholic interests and policy? This is perhaps the most important\nquestion which the life of Newman raises; for it affects our\nanticipations of the future even more than our judgments of the past. Is\nNewman a safe or a possible guide for Catholics in the twentieth\ncentury?\n\nNewman was no metaphysician; he confesses it himself. 'My turn of\nmind,' he says, 'has never led me towards metaphysics; rather it has\nbeen logical, ethical, practical.'[84] For metaphysics requires an\ninitial act of faith in human reason, and Newman had not this faith.\nEven in his Anglican days he uttered many astonishing things in contempt\nof reason. 'What is intellect itself (he asks) but a fruit of the Fall,\nnot found in paradise or in heaven, more than in little children, and at\nthe utmost but tolerated by the Church, and only not incompatible with\nthe regenerate mind?... Reason is God's gift, but so are the\npassions.... Eve was tempted to follow passion and reason, and she\nfell.'[85] 'Faith does not regard degrees of evidence.'[86] 'Faith and\nhumility consist, not in going about to prove, but in the outset\nconfiding in the testimony of others.' 'The more you set yourself to\nargue and prove, in order to discover truth, the less likely you are to\nreason correctly.'[87] The amazing crudity of this avowed obscurantism\nis likely to make the orthodox apologist writhe, and to move the\nrationalist to contemptuous laughter. In this and many other cases,\nNewman seems to love to caricature himself, and to put his beliefs in\nthat form in which they outrage common sense most completely. We can\nimagine nothing more calculated to drive a young and ingenuous mind into\nflippant scepticism than a course of Newman's sermons. The _reductio ad\nabsurdum_ of his arguments is not left to the reader to make; it is\ninnocently provided by the preacher.\n\nAnd yet Newman's central position is not absurd, or only becomes absurd\nwhen it is applied to justify belief in gross superstition. He holds\nthat what he calls 'reasoning' deals only with abstractions, and is not\nthe faculty on which we rely in forming 'judgments.' These judgments, to\nwhich we give our 'assent,' and by which we regulate our conduct, are\naffirmations of the basal personality. And these have an authority far\ngreater than can ever arise out of the logical manipulation of concepts.\n'There is no ultimate test of truth besides the testimony borne to the\ntruth by the mind itself.' The 'mind itself,' the concrete personality,\nis concerned with realities, while the intellect, which for him\ncorresponds very nearly with the discursive reason (dihanoia) of the\nGreek philosophers, is at home only in mathematics and, up to a certain\npoint, in logic. The concepts of the intellect have no existence outside\nit. 'The mind has the gift, by an act of creation, of bringing before it\nabstractions and generalisations which have no counterpart, no\nexistence, out of it.'[88] Parenthetically, we may remark that passages\nlike this show how wide of the truth Mr. Barry is when he speaks of\nNewman as a 'thorough Alexandrine.' To deny the existence of universals,\nto regard them as mere creations of the mind, is rank blasphemy to a\nPlatonist; and the Alexandrines were Christian Platonists. No more\nmisleading statement could be made about Newman's philosophy than to\nassociate him with Platonism of any kind, whether Pagan or Christian.\nNewman adopts the sensationalist (Lockian) theory of knowledge. Ideas\nare copies or modifications of the data presented by the senses; 'first\nprinciples are abstractions from facts, not elementary truths prior to\nreasoning.' This is pure nominalism, in its crudest form. It makes all\narguments in favour of the great truths of religion valueless; for if\nthere are no universals, rational theism is impossible. It follows that\nthe famous scholastic 'proofs of God's existence' have for Newman no\ncogency whatever; indeed it is difficult to see how he can have escaped\ncondemning the whole philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas as a juggling with\nbloodless concepts. Newman himself pleaded that he had no wish to oppose\nthe official dogmatics of his Church. But protestations are of no avail\nwhere the facts are so clear. 'The natural theology of our schools,'\nsays a writer in the _Tablet_, quoted by Dr. Caldecott in his\n'Philosophy of Religion,' 'is based frankly and wholly on the appeal to\nreason.' This is notoriously true; and what Newman thought of reason we\nhave already seen. His extreme disparagement of the intellect seems to\npreclude what he calls 'real assent' to the creeds and dogmas of\nCatholicism; for these clearly consist of 'notional' propositions. But\nNewman would answer that the Church is a concrete fact, to which 'real\nassent' can be given; and the Church has guaranteed the truth of the\nnotional propositions in question. But since reason is put out of court\nas a witness to truth, on what faculty, or on what evidence, does Newman\nrely? Feeling he distrusts; that side of mysticism, at any rate, finds\nno sympathy from him. Nor does he, like many Kantians and others, make\nthe will supreme over the other faculties. Rather, as we have seen, he\nbases his reliance on the verdicts of the undivided personality, which\nhe often calls conscience. This line of apologetic was at this very time\nbeing ably developed by Julius Hare. It is in itself an argument which\nhas no necessary connexion with obscurantism. 'Personalism,' as it is\ntechnically called, reminds us that we do actually base our judgments on\ngrounds which are nob purely rational; that the intellect, in forming\nconcepts, has to be content with an approximate resemblance to concrete\nreality; and that the will and feelings have their rights and claims\nwhich cannot be ignored in a philosophy of religion. But while it is\ncompatible with a robust faith in the powers of the constructive\nintellect, personalism is beyond question a self-sufficient,\nindependent, individualistic doctrine. When it is combined with a\nnominalist theory of knowledge, it naturally suggests that every man may\nand should live by the creed which bests suits his idiosyncrasies. Now\nthere was much in Newman's temperament which made him turn in this\ndirection. 'Lead, kindly Light' has been the favourite hymn of many an\nindependent thinker, to whom the authority of the Church is less than\nnothing. But on another side Newman was all his life a fierce upholder\nof the principle of authority. His reason for accepting the dogmas of\nthe Church, and for wishing to destroy heresiarchs like wild beasts, was\ncertainly not that his basal personality testified to the truth and\nvalue of all ecclesiastical dogmas. He believed them 'by confiding in\nthe testimony of others'--in other words, on the authority of the\nCatholic Church. If we push back the enquiry one step further, and ask\non what grounds he chooses to prefer the authority of the Catholic\nChurch to other authorities, such as natural science or philosophy, we\nare driven again to lay great stress on the almost political necessity\nwhich he felt that such a Divine society should exist. In accepting the\nauthority of the Church, he accepted the authority of all that the\nChurch teaches, in complete independence of human reason. But the Roman\nChurch never professes to be independent of human reason. The official\nscholastic philosophy claims to be a demonstrative proof of theism.\n\nNewman, then, was only half a Catholic. He accepted with all the fervour\nof a neophyte the principle of submission to Holy Church. But in place\nof the official intellectualist apologetic, which an Englishman may\nstudy to great advantage in the remarkably able series of manuals issued\nby the Jesuits of Stonyhurst, he substituted a philosophy of experience\nwhich is certainly not Catholic. The authority claimed by the Roman\nChurch rests on one side upon revelation, on the other upon an elaborate\nstructure of demonstrative reasoning, which the simple folk are allowed\nto 'take as read,' only because they cannot be expected to understand\nit, but which is declared to be of irresistible cogency to any properly\ninstructed mind. To deny the validity of reasoning upon Divine things is\nto withdraw one of the supports on which Catholicism rests.\nSubjectivism, based on vital experience, mixes no better with this\nsystem than oil with water. Scholasticism prides itself on clear-cut\ndefinitions, on irrefragable logic, on using words always in the same\nsense. For Newman, as for his disciples the Modernists, theological\nterms are only symbols for varying values, and he holds that the moment\nthey are treated as having any fixed connotation, error begins. It is no\nwonder if learned Catholics thought that Newman did not play the game.\nFather Perrone, in spite of his friendship for the object of his\ncriticism, declared that 'Newman miscet et confundit omnia.'\n\nThe accusation of scepticism, which was not unnaturally brought against\nhim, was hotly resented by Newman, and with some justice. Of the\nintensity of his personal conviction there can be no doubt whatever.\nIndeed, it was just because his faith was in no danger that he cared so\nlittle for any intellectual defence of it. He might have made his own\nthe lines of Wordsworth:\n\n    'Here then we rest; not fearing for our creed\n     The worst that human reasoning can achieve\n     To unsettle or perplex it.'\n\nWordsworth too, it may be remembered, speaks of 'reason' with hardly\nmore respect than Newman himself as:\n\n              'The inferior faculty that moulds\n    With her minute and speculative pains\n    Opinion, ever changing.'\n\nRobert Browning also, especially in his later years, uses\nanti-intellectualist language equally uncompromising. 'Wholly distrust\nthy reason,' he says in 'La Saisiaz.' Coleridge's distinction between\n'understanding' and 'reason,' or Westcott's distinction between 'reason'\nand 'reasoning,' might have saved these great writers from the\nappearance, and perhaps more than the appearance, of blaspheming against\nthe highest and most divine faculty of human nature. For the reason is\nsomething much higher than logic-chopping; it can provide, from its own\nresources, a remedy for the intellectual error which is just now\nmiscalled intellectualism; it is the activity of the whole personality\nunder the guidance of its highest part; and because it is a real\nunification of our disordered nature, it can bring us into real contact\nwith the higher world of Spirit. Newman's scepticism was not\ndoubtfulness about matters of faith; it was only a wholly unjustifiable\ncontempt and distrust for the unaided activity of the human mind. This\nactivity, as far as he could see, produced only various forms of\n'liberalism,' which he strangely enough regarded as a kind of\nscepticism. Thus he retorted, with equal injustice, the unjust charge\nbrought against himself.\n\nNewman has often been suspected or accused of quibbling and intellectual\ndishonesty. Kingsley, whose healthy but somewhat rough English morality\nand common sense were revolted by Newman's whole attitude to life and\nconduct, was unable to conceive how any educated man could believe in\nwinking Virgins and liquefying blood, and thought that Newman must be\ndishonest. More recently Dr. Abbott has accused him of being a\n_philomythus_. Judged by ordinary standards, Newman's criteria of belief\ndo seem incompatible with intellectual honesty. Locke, whom Newman\nresembles in his theory of knowledge, lays down a canon which condemns\nabsolutely the Cardinal's doctrine of assent. 'There is one unerring\nmark,' he says, 'by which a man may know whether he is a lover of truth\nin earnest, namely, the not entertaining any proposition with greater\nassurance than the proofs it is built on will warrant.' Newman himself\nquotes this dictum, and argues against it that men do, as a matter of\nfact, form their judgments in a very different fashion. To most people,\nhowever, the fact that opinions _are_ so manufactured is no proof that\nthey _ought_ to be so. To most people it seems plain that the practical\nnecessity of making unverified assumptions, and the habit of clinging to\nthem because we have made them, even after their falsity has been\nexposed, is a satisfactory explanation of the prevalence of error, but\nnot a reason for acquiescing in it. It is useful, they hold, to point\nout how assumption has a perilous tendency to pass for proof, not that\nwe may contentedly confuse assumption with proof, but that we may be on\nour guard against doing so. But such is Newman's dislike of 'reason'\nthat he rejoices to find that the majority of mankind are, in fact, not\nguided by it. And then, having made this discovery, he is quite ready to\n'reason' himself, but not in the manner of an earnest seeker after\ntruth. Reason, for him, is a serviceable weapon of attack or defence,\nbut he is like a man fighting with magic impenetrable armour. He enjoys\na bout of logical fence; but it will decide nothing for him: his\n'certitude' is independent of it. It is easy to see that such an\nattitude must appear profoundly dishonest to any man who accepts Locke's\nmaxim about truth-seeking. It is equally easy to see that Newman would\nspurn the charge of dishonesty as hotly as the charge of scepticism. His\nprinciples made it easy for him to adopt the characteristic Catholic\nhabit of 'believing' anything that is pleasing to the religious\nimagination. His sermons are full of such phrases as 'Scripture _seems_\nto show us'; 'why should we not believe ...'; 'who knows whether ...,'\nand the like, all introducing some fantastic superstition. He\ndeliberately accepts the insidious and deadly doctrine that 'no man is\nconvinced of a thing who can endure the thought of its contradictory\nbeing true.' To which we may rejoin that, on the contrary, no man has a\nright to be convinced of anything until he has fairly faced the\nhypothesis of its contradictory being true. So long as Newman's method\nprevailed in Europe, every branch of practical knowledge was condemned\nto barrenness.\n\nFor what kind of knowledge is it which is acquired, not by the exercise\nof the discursive intellect, or by the evidence of our senses, but by\nthe affirmations of our basal personality? Surely the legitimate\nprovince of 'personalism' lies in the region of general ideas, or rather\nin the _Weltanschauung_ as a whole. Our undivided personality protests\nagainst any philosophy which makes life irrational, or base, or\nincurably evil. It claims that those pictures of reality which are\nprovided by the intellect, by the aesthetic sense, and by the moral\nsense, shall all have justice done to them in any attempted synthesis.\nIt rejects materialism, metaphysical dualism, solipsism, and pessimism,\non one or other of these grounds. Such a final interpretation of\nexistence as any of these offers, leaves out some fundamental and\nessential factor of experience, and is therefore untenable. If no\nmetaphysical scheme can be constructed which is at once comprehensive\nand inwardly consistent, personalism insists that we must acknowledge\ndefeat for the time, rather than take refuge in a logical system which\nmay be free from inner contradictions but which does not satisfy the\nwhole man as a living and active spiritual being. This is a sound\nargument. But it is absurd to suppose that our personality, acting as an\nundivided whole, can decide whether the institutional Church, or one\nbranch of it, is the Body of Christ and the receptacle of infallible\nrevelation; whether Christ was born at Bethlehem or Nazareth; or whether\nNestorius was a heretic. We have no magical sword for cutting these\nknots, and no miraculous guide to tell us that authority A is to be\nbelieved implicitly, while the possibility of authority B being right is\nnot to be entertained even in thought. Newman as usual supplies us with\nthe best weapons against himself. It startles us to find, even in 1852,\nsuch a sentence as this: 'Revealed religion furnishes facts to other\nsciences, which those sciences, left to themselves, would never reach.\nThus, in the science of history, the preservation of our race in Noah's\nark is an historical fact, which history never would arrive at without\nrevelation.' The transition from belief on the purely internal ground of\npersonal assent to belief on the purely external ground of Church\nauthority is certainly abrupt and hard to explain; but Newman makes it\nhabitually, without any consciousness of a _salto mortale_. In the\n'Apologia' he even says that the argument from personality is 'one form\nof the argument from authority.' The argument seems to be--'There is no\nthird alternative besides Catholicism or Rationalism. But \"personality\"\nwill not accept the dictation of reason; therefore it must accept the\nauthority of the Church.' It is a strange argument. All through his life\nhe enormously exaggerated the moral and intellectual weight which should\nbe attached to Church tradition. 'Securus judicat orbis terrarum' were\nthe words which rang in his ears at the supreme moment of his great\ndecision. His 'orbis terrarum' was the Latin empire. And when even in\nthose countries the authority of the Pope is rejected, he condemns\nmodern civilisation as an aberration. This however is a complete\nabandonment of his own test. He first says 'The judgment of the great\nworld is final'; and then 'If the world decides against Rome, so much\nthe worse for the world.' After all, Newman had no right to complain if\nhis opponents found his reasoning disingenuous. To make up our minds\nfirst, and to argue in favour of the decision afterwards, is in truth to\nmake the reason a hewer of wood and drawer of water to the irrational\npart of our nature.\n\nIt is precisely his sympathy with Catholicism on the religious side, and\nhis alienation from its intellectual method, which makes Newman's\napologetic such a two-edged weapon. In attempting to defend Catholicism,\nhe has gone far to explain it. To the historian, there is no great\nmystery about the growth and success of the Western Catholic Church.\nChristianity was already a syncretistic religion in the second century.\nLike the other forms of worship with which it competed for the popular\nfavour, it contained the necessary elements of mystery-cult, of ethical\nrule, of social brotherhood, and of personal devotion. But besides many\ngenuine points of superiority, it had a decisive advantage over the\nreligions of Isis and Mithra in the exclusiveness and intolerance which\nit derived from the Jewish tradition. When the failure of the last\npersecution forced the Empire to make a concordat with the Church, the\ntransformation of the federated but autonomous Christian communities\ninto a centralised theocratic despotism, claiming secular as well as\nspiritual sovereignty, was only a matter of time. It was inevitable,\njust as the principate of Augustus and the sultanate of Diocletian were\ninevitable; but there is nothing specially divine or glorious about any\nof these phases of human evolution. The revolt of Northern Europe in the\nsixteenth century was equally inevitable; and so is the alienation of\nenlightened minds from the Roman Church at the present day. Newman shows\nwith great force and ingenuity that all the developments in the Roman\nsystem which Protestantism rejects as later accretions were natural and\nnecessary. But this only means that the Catholic Church, in order to\nlive, was compelled to adapt itself to the prevailing conditions of\nhuman culture in the countries where it desired to be supreme. The\nargument, so far as it goes, tells against rather than in favour of any\nspecial supernatural character belonging to that institution. And if the\n'orbis terrarum,' which once gave its verdict in favour of Latin\nCatholicism, is now disposed to reverse its decision, how, on Newman's\nprinciple, can its right to do so be denied? The true reasons for the\nstrength and vitality which the Roman Church still retains are not\ndifficult to find. Its system possesses an inner consistency, which is\ndearly purchased by neglecting much that should enter into a large and\ntrue view of the world, but which guarantees to those who have once\naccepted it an untroubled calm and assurance very acceptable to those\nwho have been tossed upon a sea of doubt. It surrounds itself with an\nimpenetrable armour by persuading its adherents that all moral and\nintellectual scruples, in matters where Holy Church has pronounced its\nverdict, are suggestions of the Evil One, to be spurned like the\nprickings of sensuality. It has succeeded, by long experience, in\nproviding satisfaction for nearly all the needs of the average man, and\nfor all the needs of the average woman. In particular, the aesthetic\ntastes which, in Southern Europe at any rate, are closely connected with\nreligious feeling, are fully catered for; and those superstitions which\nthe majority of mankind still love in their hearts, though they are\nsomewhat ashamed of them, are allowed to luxuriate unchecked. Further,\nCatholicism encourages and blesses that _esprit de corps_ which has\nproduced the brightest triumphs of self-abnegation as well as the\ndarkest crimes of cruel bigotry in human history. A Church which unites\nthese advantages is in no danger of falling into insignificance, even if\nthe best intellect and morality of the age are estranged from it. It may\neven have a great future as the nucleus of a conservative resistance to\nthe social revolution. It is doubtful whether those who wish to preserve\nthe traditions and civilisation of the past will be able to find\nanywhere, except in the Latin Church, an organisation sufficiently\ncoherent and universal to provide a rallying ground for defence against\nthe new barbarian invasion--proceeding this time not from the rude\nnations of the North, but from the crowded alleys of our great\ntowns--which threatens to plunge us into a new Dark Age. The menace of\nthe Red Peril will secure, for a long time to come, the survival of the\nBlack.\n\nBut the Roman Catholicism which has a future is probably that of\nManning, and not that of Newman. A Church which depends for its strength\nand prestige on the iron discipline of a centralised autocracy, and on\nthe fanatical devotion of soldiers who know no duty except obedience, no\ncause except the interests of their society, can make no terms with the\ndisintegrating nominalism, the uncertain subjectivism, of a mind like\nNewman's. It has been the strange fate of this great man, after driving\na wedge deep into the Anglican Church, which at this day is threatened\nwith disruption through the movement which he helped to originate, to\nhave nearly succeeded in doing the same to the far more compact\nstructure of Roman Catholicism. The Modernist movement has from the\nfirst appealed to Newman as its founder, and has sought to protect\nitself under his authority. It is necessary to consider, as the last\ntopic of this article, whether this affiliation can be allowed to be\ntrue. No one who has read any of Newman's works can doubt that he would\nhave recoiled with horror from the destructive criticism of Loisy, the\ncontempt for scholastic authority of Tyrrell, and the defiance hurled at\nthe Papacy in the manifesto of the Italian Modernists. Newman's doctrine\nof Development was far removed from that of Bergson's 'L'Evolution\nCreatrice.' He defended the fact of development against the staticism of\ncontemporary Anglicanism; but his notion of development was more like\nthe unrolling of a scroll than the growth of a tree or the expansion and\nchange of a human character. 'Every Catholic holds,' he says, 'that the\nChristian dogmas were in the Church from the time of the Apostles; that\nthey were ever in their substance what they are now.' Compare this with\nthe following words from the Italian manifesto: 'The supernatural life\nof Christ in the faithful and in the Church has been clothed in an\nhistorical form, which has given birth to what we might somewhat loosely\ncall the Christ of legend.... Such a criticism does away with the\npossibility of finding in Christ's ministry even the embryonic form of\nthe Church's later theological teaching.' 'A dogma,' says Le Roy, one of\nthe ablest philosophers of the school, 'proclaims, above all, a\nprescription of practical order; it is the formula of a rule of\npractical conduct. Why then should we not bring theory into harmony with\npractice?'\n\nThese extracts mark a much later phase of the revolt against Catholic\ndogma and scholastic theology than can be found in Newman's writings.\nThey are contemporary with the Pragmatism of James and Schiller, and the\nActivism of Bergson. So bold a defiance of tradition would have been\nimpossible thirty years earlier. And yet, when Newman pours scorn upon\nhuman reason, and when he enthrones the 'conscience' as the supreme\narbiter of truth, is he not, in fact, preparing the way for these\nstartling declarations, which imply a complete rupture with Catholic\nauthority? Dogmas are indisputably 'notional' propositions; that is to\nsay, they belong to that class of truths to which Newman ascribes only a\nvery subordinate importance. We cannot, in his sense,'assent' to an\nhistorical proposition as such, but only to the authority which has\nordered us to believe it. And is there any justification for Newman's\nconfidence that this authority may make apparent innovations, such as he\nadmits to have been made throughout the history of the Church, but no\nreal changes? If he had been able to think out the implications of his\ndoctrine of development with the help of such arguments as those of\nBergson, would he not have seen that without change and real innovation\nthere can be no true evolution? Do not the fluidity and pragmatic\ncharacter of dogma, so much insisted on by Sabatier and Le Roy, follow\nfrom the anti-intellectualist personalism which we have seen to be the\nfoundation of Newman's philosophy of religion? The Modernist might argue\nthat he is only extending to the history of the Church the doctrine of\neducation by experience which Newman found to be true in the\nlife-history of the individual. Life itself, with its experiences and\nits needs, is the revealer of truth. We cannot anticipate the wisdom of\nthe future.\n\n                      'I do not ask to see\n    The distant scene; one step enough for me.'\n\nThe kindly light leads a man on step by step; it conducts him from\nexperience to experience, not without lapses into error; it reproves him\nif he desires to 'choose and see his path.' If this is true in the\nhistory of the individual, is it not probably also true in the history\nof the Church? And if it is true in the history of the Church, are not\nthe dogmatists wrong who have tried to legislate not only for the\npresent but the future, and to bind the Church for all time to the\nformulations which appeared satisfactory to themselves? If Providence is\nleading the Church through varied experiences in order to teach it\ngreater wisdom, is it not clear that we must not rashly preclude the\npossibility of future revelation by stereotyping the results of some\nearlier stage of experience? Thus the empiricism of Newman leads\nlogically to consequences which he would have been among the first to\nreject.\n\nSome rather shallow thinkers in this country have expressed their\nsurprise and regret that the Vatican has refused to make any terms with\nModernism. They have supposed that the fault lies with an ignorant and\nreactionary Pope. But there are many reasons why this dangerous and\ndisintegrating tendency must be rigorously excluded from Roman\nCatholicism. In the first place, Modernism destroys the historical basis\nof Christianity, and converts the Incarnation and Atonement into myths\nlike those of other dying and rising saviour-gods, which hardly pretend\nto be historical. But it was this foundation in history which helped\nlargely to secure the triumph of Christianity over its rivals. In the\nplace of the historical God-Man, Modernism gives us the history of the\nChurch as an object of reverence. We are bidden to contemplate an\ninstitution of amazingly tough vitality but great adaptability, which in\nits determination to survive has not only changed colour like a\nchameleon but has from time to time put forth new organs and discovered\nnew weapons of offence and defence. We ask for evidence that the Church\nhas regenerated the world; and we are shown how, by hook or by crook, it\nhas succeeded in safeguarding its own interests. Ecclesiastical\nhistorians are ingenious and unscrupulous; but it is impossible even for\nthem to exhibit Church history as the record of a continuous\nintervention of the Spirit of Christ in human affairs. If any Spirit has\npresided over the councils of popes, cardinals, and inquisitors it is\nnot that of the Founder of Christianity.\n\nFurther, the religious philosophy of Modernism is bad, much worse than\nthe scholasticism which it derides. It is in essentials a revival of the\nsophistry of Protagoras. And if it were metaphysically more respectable\nthan it is, it is so widely opposed to the whole system of Catholic\napologetics, that if it were accepted, it would necessitate a complete\nreconstruction of Catholic dogma. Let any man read the Stonyhurst\nmanuals, and say whether the radical empiricism of the Modernists could\nfind a lodgment anywhere in such a system without disturbing the\nstability of the whole. Catholicism is one of the most compact\nstructures in the world, and it rests on presuppositions which are far\nremoved from those of Modernism. It is one thing to admit that dogmas in\nmany cases have a pragmatic origin, and quite another to say that they\nmay be invented or rejected with a pragmatic purpose. The healthy human\nintellect will never believe that the same proposition may be true for\nfaith and untrue in fact; but this is the Modernist contention.\n\nLastly, the subjectivism of Newman and the Modernists is fatal to that\nexclusiveness which is the corner-stone of Catholic policy. The analogy\nbetween the individual and the Church suggests that God may 'fulfil\nHimself in many ways, lest one good custom should corrupt the world.' As\nthere are many individuals, each of whom is being guided separately by\nthe 'kindly light,' so there may be many churches. The pragmatic proof\nof the truth of a religion, from the fact of its survival and successful\nworking, does not justify the Roman claim to monopoly. The Protestant\nchurches also display vitality, and their members seem to exhibit the\nfruits of the Spirit. The condemnations of Modernism published by the\nVatican show that the Papal court is quite alive to this danger. To the\noutsider, indeed, it might seem a happy solution of a long controversy\nif the Roman Church would be content to claim the gifts of grace which\nare really hers, without denying the validity of the Orders and\nSacraments of other bodies, and the genuineness of the Christian graces\nwhich they exhibit. It would then be admitted on all hands that some\ntemperaments are more suited to Catholicism, others to Protestantism,\nand that the character of each man develops most satisfactorily under\nthe discipline which suits his nature. But we must not expect any such\nconcession from Rome; and in truth such an admission would be the\nbeginning of the end for Catholicism in its present form.\n\nOur conclusion then is that although Newman was not a Modernist, but an\nexceedingly stiff conservative, he did introduce into the Roman Church a\nvery dangerous and essentially alien habit of thought, which has since\ndeveloped into Modernism. Perhaps Monsignor Talbot was not far wrong,\nfrom his own point of view, when he called him 'the most dangerous man\nin England.' One side of his religion was based on principles which,\nwhen logically drawn out, must lead away from Catholicism in the\ndirection of an individualistic religion of experience, and a\nsubstitution of history for dogma which makes all truth relative and all\nvalues fluid. Newman's writings have always made genuine Catholics\nuneasy, though they hardly know why. It is probable that here is the\nsolution.\n\nThe character of Newman--for with this we must end--may seem to have\nbeen more admirable than lovable. He was more apt to make disciples than\nfriends. Yet he was loved and honoured by men whose love is an honour,\nand he is admired by all who can appreciate a consistently unworldly\nlife. The Roman Church has been less unpopular in England since Newman\nreceived from it the highest honour which it can bestow. Throughout his\ncareer he was a steadfast witness against tepid and insincere\nprofessions of religion, and against any compromise with the shifting\ncurrents of popular opinion. All cultivated readers, who have formed\ntheir tastes on the masterpieces of good literature, are attracted,\nsometimes against their will, by the dignity and reserve of his style,\nqualities which belong to the man, and not only to the writer. Like\nGoethe, he disdains the facile arts which make the commonplace reader\nlaugh and weep. 'Ach die zaertlichen Herzen! ein Pfuscher vermag sie zu\nruehren!' Like Wordsworth, he might say 'To stir the blood I have no\ncunning art.' There are no cheap effects in any of Newman's writings. He\nis the most undemocratic of teachers. Such men do what can be done to\nsave a nation from itself, its natural enemy. They are not indifferent\nto fame, because they desire influence; but they will do nothing to\nadvertise themselves. The public must come to them; they will not go to\nthe public. There have been other great men who have been as indifferent\nas Newman to the applause of the vulgar. But they have been generally\neither pure intellectualists or pure artists, in whom\n\n    'The intellectual power through words and things\n     Went sounding on a dim and perilous way.'\n\nNewman's 'confidence towards God' was of a still nobler kind. It rested\non an unclouded faith in the Divine guidance, and on a very just\nestimate of the worthlessness of contemporary praise and blame. There\nhave been very few men who have been able to combine so strong a faith\nwith a thorough distrust of both logic-chopping and emotional\nexcitement, and who, while denying themselves these aids to conviction,\nhave been able to say, calmly and without petulance, that with them it\nis a very small thing to be judged of man's judgment.\n\n     'What (he asks) can increase their peace who believe and\n     trust in the Son of God? Shall we add a drop to the ocean,\n     or grains to the sand of the sea? We pay indeed our\n     superiors full reverence, and with cheerfulness as unto the\n     Lord; and we honour eminent talents as deserving admiration\n     and reward; and the more readily act we thus, because these\n     are little things to pay.'[89]\n\nSuch unworldliness as this, in the well-chosen words of R.H. Hutton,\n'stands out in strange and almost majestic contrast to the eager turmoil\nof confused passions, hesitating ideals, tentative virtues, and groping\nphilanthropies, amidst which it was lived.'\n\nAnother mark of greatness is unbroken consistency and unity of aim in a\nlong life. There are few parallels to the neglect of his own literary\nreputation by Newman. Higher interests, he thought, were at stake; and\nso he had no dream of building for himself 'a monument more durable than\nbrass,' and of claiming a pedestal among the great writers of English\nprose and verse. He accepted long years of literary barrenness; he wrote\nhistorical essays for which he had no special aptitude, and dogmatic\ndisquisitions which even his genius could not save from dulness; he even\ndescended into mere journalism. The 'Apologia' would probably not have\nbeen written but for the accident of Kingsley's attack. It has, no\ndoubt, been said with truth that Newman showed great dexterity in\nchoosing opponents with whom to cross swords--Kingsley, Pusey,\nGladstone, and his old Anglican self. But this does not alter the fact\nthat a man who must have been conscious of rare literary gifts made no\nattempt to immortalise himself by them. It was for the Church, and not\nfor himself, that he wrote as well as lived.\n\nThat his life is for the most part a record of sadness and failure is no\nindication that he was not one of the great men of his time.\nIndependence is no passport to success in a world where, as Swift said,\nclimbing and crawling are performed in much the same attitude. And if we\nare right in our view that there was something in the composition of his\nmind which prevented him from being either a complete Catholic or a\ncomplete Protestant, this too is no obstacle to our recognition of his\ngreatness. He has left an indelible mark upon two great religious\nbodies. He has stirred movements which still agitate the Church of\nEngland and the Church of Rome, and the end of which is not yet in\nsight. Anglo-Catholicism and Modernism are alien growths, perhaps, in\nthe institutions where they have found a place; but the man who beyond\nall others is responsible for grafting them upon the old stems is secure\nof his place in history.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [82] Cf. e. _Parochial and Plain Sermons_, vi. 259.\n\n     [83] Mark Pattison, _Memoirs_, p. 97.\n\n     [84] _Stray Essays_, p. 94.\n\n     [85] _Parochial and Plain Sermons_, v. 112.\n\n     [86] _Ibid_. vi. 259.\n\n     [87] _Ibid_. vi. 340.\n\n     [88] _Grammar of Assent_, part i. c. 1 and 2.\n\n     [89] _Parochial and Plain Sermons_, vii. 73.\n\n\n\n\nST. PAUL\n\n(1914)\n\n\nAmong all the great men of antiquity there is none, with the exception\nof Cicero, whom we may know so intimately as Saul of Tarsus. The main\nfacts of his career have been recorded by a contemporary, who was\nprobably his friend and travelling companion. A collection of letters,\naddressed to the little religious communities which he founded, reveals\nthe character of the writer no less than the nature of his work. Alone\namong the first preachers of Christianity, he stands before us as a\nliving man. Ohiost phepnytai, toi de skiai hahissoysi. We know very\nlittle in reality of Peter and James and John, of Apollos and Barnabas.\nAnd of our divine Master no biography can ever be written.\n\nWith St. Paul it is quite different. He is a saint without a luminous\nhalo. His personal characteristics are too distinct and too human to\nmake idealisation easy. For this reason he has never been the object of\npopular devotion. Shadowy figures like St. Joseph and St. Anne have been\ndivinised and surrounded with picturesque legends; but St. Paul has been\nspared the honour or the ignominy of being coaxed and wheedled by the\npiety of paganised Christianity. No tender fairy-tales are attached to\nhis cult; he remains for us what he was in the flesh. It is even\npossible to feel an active dislike for him. Lagarde ('Deutsche\nSchriften,' p. 71) abuses him as a politician might vilify an opponent.\n'It is monstrous' (says he) 'that men of any historical training should\nattach any importance to this Paul. This outsider was a Pharisee from\ntop to toe even after he became a Christian'--and much more to the same\neffect. Nietzsche describes him as 'one of the most ambitious of men,\nwhose superstition was only equalled by his cunning. A much tortured,\nmuch to be pitied man, an exceedingly unpleasant person both to himself\nand to others.... He had a great deal on his conscience. He alludes to\nenmity, murder, sorcery, idolatry, impurity, drunkenness, and the love\nof carousing.' Renan, who could never have made himself ridiculous by\nsuch ebullitions as these, does not disguise his repugnance for the\n'ugly little Jew' whose character he can neither understand nor admire.\nThese outbursts of personal animosity, so strange in modern critics\ndealing with a personage of ancient history, show how vividly his figure\nstands out from the canvas. There are very few historical characters who\nare alive enough to be hated.\n\nIt is, however, only in our own day that the personal characteristics of\nSt. Paul have been intelligently studied; and the most valuable books\nabout him are later than the unbalanced tirades of Lagarde and\nNietzsche, and the carping estimate of Renan. In the nineteenth century,\nPaul was obscured behind Paulinism. His letters were studied as\ntreatises on systematic theology. Elaborate theories of atonement,\njustification, and grace were expounded on his authority, as if he had\nbeen a religious philosopher or theological professor like Origen and\nThomas Aquinas. The name of the apostle came to be associated with\nangular and frigid disquisitions which were rapidly losing their\nconnexion with vital religion. It has been left for the scholars of the\npresent century to give us a picture of St. Paul as he really was--a man\nmuch nearer to George Fox or John Wesley than to Origen or Calvin; the\ngreatest of missionaries and pioneers, and only incidentally a great\ntheologian. The critical study of the New Testament has opened our eyes\nto see this and many other things. Much new light has also been thrown\nby studies in the historical geography of Asia Minor, a work in which\nBritish scholars have characteristically taken a prominent part. The\ndelightful books of Sir W.M. Ramsay have now been supplemented by the\nequally attractive volume of another travelling scholar, Professor\nDeissmann. A third source of new information is the mass of inscriptions\nand papyri which have been discovered in the last twenty years. The\nsocial life of the middle and lower classes in the Levant, their\nreligious beliefs and practices, and the language which they spoke, are\nnow partially known to us, as they never were before. The human interest\nof the Pauline Epistles, and of the Acts, is largely increased by these\naccessions to knowledge.\n\nThe Epistles are real letters, not treatises by a theological professor,\nnor literary productions like the Epistles of Seneca. Each was written\nwith reference to a definite situation; they are messages which would\nhave been delivered orally had the Apostle been present. Several letters\nhave certainly been lost; and St. Paul would probably not have cared\nmuch to preserve them. There is no evidence that he ever thought of\nadding to the Canon of Scripture by his correspondence. The Author of\nActs seems not to have read any of the letters. This view of the\nEpistles has rehabilitated some of them, which were regarded as spurious\nby the Tuebingen school and their successors. The question which we now\nask when the authenticity of an Epistle is doubted is, Do we find the\nsame man? not, Do we find the same system? There is, properly speaking,\nno system in St. Paul's theology, and there is a singularly rapid\ndevelopment of thought. The 'Pastoral Epistles' are probably not\ngenuine, though the defence of them is not quite a desperate\nundertaking. Of the rest, the weight of evidence is slightly against the\nPauline authorship of Ephesians, the vocabulary of which differs\nconsiderably from that of the undoubted Epistles; and the short letter\ncalled 2 Thessalonians is open to some suspicion. The genuineness of\nEphesians is not of great importance to the student of Pauline theology,\nunless the closely allied Epistle to the Colossians is also rejected;\nand there has been a remarkable return of confidence in the Pauline\nauthorship of this letter. All the other Epistles seem to be firmly\nestablished.\n\nThe other source of information about St. Paul's life is the Acts of\nthe Apostles, the value of which as a historical document is very\nvariously estimated. The doubts refer mainly to the earlier chapters,\nbefore St. Paul appears on the scene. Sane criticism can hardly dispute\nthat the 'we-passages,' in which the writer speaks of St. Paul and\nhimself in the first person plural, are the work of an eye-witness, and\nthat most of the important facts in the later chapters are from the same\nsource. The difficult problem is concerned with the relation of this\nwriter to the editor, who is responsible for the 'Petrine' part of the\nbook. There is very much to be said in favour of the tradition that this\neditor, who also compiled the Third Gospel, was Lucas or Lucanus, the\nphysician and friend of St. Paul. It does not necessarily follow that he\nwas the fellow-traveller who in a few places speaks of himself in the\nfirst person. Luke (if we may decide the question for ourselves by\ngiving him this name) must have been a man of very attractive character;\nfull of kindness, loyalty, and Christian charity. He is the most\nfeminine (not effeminate) writer in the New Testament, and shows a\nmarked partiality for the tender aspects of Christianity. He is\nattracted by miracles, and by all that makes history picturesque and\nromantic. His social sympathies are so keen that his gospel furnishes\nthe Christian socialist with nearly all his favourite texts. Above all,\nhe is a Greek man of letters, dominated by the conventions of Greek\nhistorical composition. For the Greek, history was a work of art,\nwritten for edification, and not merely a bald record of facts. The\nGreek historian invented speeches for his principal characters; this was\na conventional way of elucidating the situation for the benefit of his\nreaders. Everyone knows how Thucydides, the most conscientious historian\nin antiquity, habitually uses this device, and how candidly he explains\nhis method. We can hardly doubt that the author of Acts has used a\nsimilar freedom, though the report of the address to the elders of\nEphesus reads like a summary of an actual speech. The narrative is\ncoloured in places by the historian's love for the miraculous. Critics\nhave also suspected an eirenical purpose in his treatment of the\nrelations between St. Paul and the Jerusalem Church.\n\nSaul of Tarsus was a Benjamite of pure Israelite descent, but also a\nRoman citizen by birth. His famous old Jewish name was Latinised or\nGraecised as Paulos (Sahylost means 'waddling,' and would have been a\nridiculous name); he doubtless bore both names from boyhood. Tarsus is\nsituated in the plain of Cilicia, and is now about ten miles from the\nsea. It is backed by a range of hills, on which the wealthier residents\nhad villas, while the high glens of Taurus, nine or ten miles further\ninland, provided a summer residence for those who could afford it, and a\nfortified acropolis in time of war. The town on the plain must have been\nalmost intolerable in the fierce Anatolian summer-heat. The harbour was\na lake formed by the Cydnus, five or six miles below Tarsus; but light\nships could sail up the river into the heart of the city. Thus Tarsus\nhad the advantages of a maritime town, though far enough from the sea to\nbe safe from pirates. The famous pass called the 'Cilician Gates' was\ntraversed by a high-road through the gorge into Cappadocia. Ionian\ncolonists came to Tarsus in very early times; and Ramsay is confident\nthat Tarshish, 'the son of Javan,' in Gen. x. 4, is none other than\nTarsus. The Greek settlers, of course, mixed with the natives, and the\nOriental element gradually swamped the Hellenic. The coins of Tarsus\nshow Greek figures and Aramaic lettering. The principal deity was\nBaal-Tarz, whose effigy appears on most of the coins. Under the\nsuccessors of Alexander, Greek influence revived, but the administration\ncontinued to be of the Oriental type; and Tarsus never became a Greek\ncity, until in the first half of the second century B.C. it proclaimed\nits own autonomy, and renamed itself Antioch-on-Cydnus. Great privileges\nwere granted it by Antiochus Epiphanes, and it rapidly grew in wealth\nand importance. Besides the Greeks, there was a large colony of Jews,\nwho always established themselves on the highways of the world's\ncommerce. Since St. Paul was a 'citizen' of Tarsus, i.e. a member of\none of the 'Tribes' into which the citizens were divided, it is probable\n(so Ramsay argues) that there was a large 'Tribe' of Jews at Tarsus; for\nno Jew would have been admitted into, or would have consented to join, a\nGreek Tribe, with its pagan cult.\n\nSo matters stood when Cilicia became a Roman Province in 104 B.C. The\ncity fell into the hands of the barbarian Tigranes twenty years later,\nbut Gnaeus Pompeius re-established the Roman power, and with it the\ndominance of Hellenism, in 63. Augustus turned Cilicia into a mere\nadjunct of Syria; and the pride of Tarsus received a check.\nNevertheless, the Emperor showed great favour to the Tarsians, who had\nsided with Julius and himself in the civil wars. Tarsus was made a\n'libera civitas,' with the right to live under its own laws. The leading\ncitizens were doubtless given the Roman citizenship, or allowed to\npurchase it. Among these would naturally be a number of Jews, for that\nnation loved Julius Caesar and detested Pompeius. But Hellenism could not\nretain its hold on Tarsus. Dion Chrysostom, who visited it at the\nbeginning of the second century A.D., found it a thoroughly Oriental\ntown, and notes that the women were closely veiled in Eastern fashion.\nPossibly this accounts for St. Paul's prejudice against unveiled women\nin church. One Greek institution, however, survived and flourished--a\nuniversity under municipal patronage. Strabo speaks with high admiration\nof the zeal for learning displayed by the Tarsians, who formed the\nentire audience at the professors' lectures, since no students came from\noutside. This last fact shows, perhaps, that the lecturers were not men\nof wide reputation; indeed, it is not likely that Tarsus was able to\ncompete with Athens and Alexandria in attracting famous teachers. The\nmost eminent Tarsians, such as Antipater the Stoic, went to Europe and\ntaught there. What distinguished Tarsus was its love of learning, widely\ndiffused in all classes of the population.\n\nSt. Paul did not belong to the upper class. He was a working artisan, a\n'tent-maker,' who followed one of the regular trades of the place.\nPerhaps, as Deissmann thinks, the 'large letters' of Gal. vi. 11 imply\nthat he wrote clumsily, like a working man and not like a scribe. The\nwords indicate that he usually dictated his letters. The 'Acts of Paul\nand Thekla' describe him as short and bald, with a hook-nose and\nbeetling brows; there is nothing improbable in this description. But he\nwas far better educated than the modern artisan. Not that a single\nquotation from Menander (1 Cor. xv. 33) shows him to be a good Greek\nscholar; an Englishman may quote 'One touch of nature makes the whole\nworld kin' without being a Shakespearean. But he was well educated\nbecause he was the son of a strict Jew. A child in such a home would\nlearn by heart large pieces of the Old Testament, and, at the Synagogue\nschool, all the _minutiae_ of the Jewish Law. The pupil was not allowed\nto write anything down; all was committed to the memory, which in\nconsequence became extremely retentive. The perfect pupil 'lost not a\ndrop from his teacher's cistern.' At the age of about fourteen the boy\nwould be sent to Jerusalem, to study under one of the great Rabbis; in\nSt. Paul's case it was Gamaliel. Under his tuition the young Pharisee\nwould learn to be a 'strong Churchman.' The Rabbis viewed everything\nfrom an ecclesiastical standpoint. The interests of the Priesthood, the\nAltar, and the Temple overshadowed everything else. The Priestly Code,\nsays Mr. Cohu, practically resolves itself into one idea: Everything in\nIsrael belongs to God; all places, all times, all persons, and all\nproperty are His. But God accepts a part of His due; and, if this part\nis scrupulously paid, He will send His blessing upon the remainder.\nBesides the written law, the Pharisee had to take on himself the still\nheavier burden of the oral law, which was equally binding. It was a\nseminary education of the most rigorous kind. St Paul cannot reproach\nhimself with any slackness during his novitiate. He threw himself into\nthe system with characteristic ardour. Probably he meant to be a\nJerusalem Rabbi himself, still practising his trade, as the Rabbis\nusually did. For he was unmarried; and every Jew except a Rabbi was\nexpected to marry at or before the age of twenty-one.\n\nHe suffered from some obscure physical trouble, the nature of which we\ncan only guess. It was probably epilepsy, a disease which is compatible\nwith great powers of endurance and great mental energy, as is proved by\nthe cases of Julius Caesar and Napoleon. He was liable to mystical\ntrances, in which some have found a confirmation of the supposition that\nhe was epileptic. But these abnormal states were rare with him; in\nwriting to the Galatians he has to go back fourteen years to the date\nwhen he was 'caught up into the third heaven,' The visions and voices\nwhich attended his active ministry prove nothing about his health. At\nthat time anyone who underwent a psychical experience for which he could\nnot account believed that he was possessed by a spirit, good or bad. It\nis significant that Tertullian, at the end of the second century, says\nthat 'almost the majority of mankind derive their knowledge of God from\nvisions.' The impression that St. Paul makes upon us is that of a man\nfull of nervous energy and able to endure an exceptional amount of\nprivation and hardship. A curious indication, which has not been\nnoticed, is that, as he tells us himself, he five times received the\nmaximum number of lashes from Jewish tribunals. These floggings in the\nSynagogues were very severe, the operator being required to lay on with\nhis full strength. There is evidence that in most cases a much smaller\nnumber of strokes than the full thirty-nine was inflicted, so as not to\nendanger the life of the culprit. The other trials which he\nmentions--three Roman scourgings, one stoning, a day and night spent in\nbattling with the waves after shipwreck, would have worn out any\nconstitution not exceptionally tough.\n\nWe must bear in mind this terrible record of suffering if we wish to\nestimate fairly the character of the man. During his whole life after\nhis conversion he was exposed not only to the hardships of travel,\nsometimes in half-civilised districts, but to 'all the cruelty of the\nfanaticism which rages like a consuming fire through the religious\nhistory of the East from the slaughter of Baal's priests to the\nslaughter of St. Stephen, and from the butcheries of Jews at Alexandria\nunder Caligula to the massacres of Christians at Adana, Tarsus, and\nAntioch in the year 1909'--(Deissmann). It is one evil result of such\nfurious bigotry that it kindles hatred and resentment in its victims,\nand tempts them to reprisals. St. Paul does speak bitterly of his\nopponents, though chiefly when he finds that they have injured his\nconverts, as in the letter to the Galatians. Modern critics have\nexaggerated this element in a character which does not seem to have been\nfierce or implacable. He writes like a man engaged in a stern conflict\nagainst enemies who will give no quarter, and who shrink from no\ntreachery. But the sharpest expression that can be laid to his charge is\nthe impatient, perhaps half humorous wish that the Judaisers who want to\ncircumcise the Galatians might be subjected to a severer operation\nthemselves (Gal. v. 12). The dominant impression that he makes upon us\nis that he was cast in a heroic mould. He is serenely indifferent to\ncriticism and calumny; no power on earth can turn him from his purpose.\nHe has made once for all a complete sacrifice of all earthly joys and\nall earthly ties; he has broken (he, the devout Jewish Catholic) with\nhis Church and braved her thunders; he has faced the opprobrium of being\ncalled traitor, heretic, and apostate; he has 'withstood to the face'\nthe Palestinian apostles who were chosen by Jesus and held His\ncommission; he has set his face to achieve, almost single-handed, the\nconquest of the Roman Empire, a thing never dreamed of by the Jerusalem\nChurch; he is absolutely indifferent whether his mission will cost him\nhis life, or only involve a continuation of almost intolerable hardship.\nIt is this indomitable courage, complete self-sacrifice, and\nsingle-minded devotion to a magnificently audacious but not\nimpracticable idea, which constitute the greatness of St. Paul's\ncharacter. He was, with all this, a warm-hearted and affectionate man,\nas he proves abundantly by the tone of his letters. His personal\nreligion was, in essence, a pure mysticism; one worships a Christ whom\nhe has experienced as a living presence in his soul. The mystic who is\nalso a man of action, and a man of action because he is a mystic, wields\na tremendous power over other men. He is like an invulnerable knight,\nfighting in magic armour.\n\nIt is an interesting and difficult question whether we should regard the\nintense moral dualism of the Epistle to the Romans as a confession that\nthe writer has had an unusually severe personal battle with temptation.\nThe moral struggle certainly assumes a more tragic aspect in these\npassages than in the experience of many saintly characters. We find\nsomething like it in Augustine, and again in Luther; it may even be\nsuggested that these great men have stamped upon the Christian tradition\nthe idea of a harsher 'clash of yes and no' than the normal experience\nof the moral life can justify. But it is not certain that the first\nperson singular in such verses as 'O wretched man that I am! who shall\ndeliver me from this body of death?' is a personal confession at all. It\nmay be for human nature generally that he is speaking, when he gives\nutterance to that consciousness of sin which was one of the most\ndistinctive parts of the Christian religion from the first. It does not\nseem likely that a man of so lofty and heroic a character was ever\nseriously troubled with ignominious temptations. That he yielded to\nthem, as Nietzsche and others have suggested, is in the highest degree\nimprobable. Even if the self-reproaches were uttered in his own person,\nwe have many other instances of saints who have blamed themselves\npassionately for what ordinary men would consider slight transgressions.\nOf all the Epistles, the Second to the Corinthians is the one which\ncontains the most intimate self-revelations, and few can read it without\nloving as well as honouring its author.\n\nWe know nothing of the Apostle's residence at Jerusalem except the name\nof his teacher. But it was at this time that he became steeped in the\nPharisaic doctrines which loamed the framework in which his earlier\nChristian beliefs were set. It is now recognised that Pharisaism, far\nfrom being the antipodes of Christianity, was rather the quarter where\nthe Gospel found its best recruits. The Pharisaic school contained the\ngreater part of whatever faith, loyalty and piety remained among the\nJewish people; and its dogmatic system passed almost entire into the\nearliest Christian Church, with the momentous addition that Jesus was\nthe Messiah. A few words on the Pharisaic teaching which St. Paul must\nhave imbibed from Gamaliel are indispensable even in an article which\ndeals with Paul, and not with Paulinism.\n\nThe distinctive feature of the Jewish religion is not, as is often\nsupposed, its monotheism, Hebrew religion in its golden age was\nmonolatry rather than monotheism; and when Jahveh became more strictly\n'the only God,' the cult of intermediate beings came in, and restored a\nquasi-polytheism. The distinctive feature in Jewish faith is its\nhistorical and teleological character. The God of the Jew is not natural\nlaw. If the idea of necessary causation ever forced itself upon his\nmind, he at once gave it the form of predestination. The whole of\nhistory is an unfolding of the divine purpose; and so history as a whole\nhas for the Jew an importance which it never had for a Greek thinker,\nnor for the Hellenised Jew Philo. The Hebrew idea of God is dynamic and\nethical; it is therefore rooted in the idea of Time. The Pharisaic\nschool modified this prophetic teaching in two ways. It became more\nspiritual; anthropomorphisms were removed, and the transcendence of God\nabove the world was more strictly maintained. On the other hand, the\nreligious relationship became in their hands narrower and more external.\nThe notion of a covenant was defined more rigorously; the Law was\npractically exalted above God, so that the Rabbis even represent the\nDeity as studying the Law. With this legalism went a spirit of intense\nexclusiveness and narrow ecclesiasticism. As God was raised above direct\ncontact with men, the old animistic belief in angels and demons, which\nhad lasted on in the popular mind by the side of the worship of Jahveh,\nwas extended in a new way. A celestial hierarchy was invented, with\nnames, and an infernal hierarchy too; the malevolent ghosts of animism\nbecame fallen angels. Satan, who in Job is the crown-prosecutor, one of\nGod's retinue, becomes God's adversary; and the angels, formerly\nmanifestations of God Himself, are now quite separated from Him. A\nsupramundane physics or cosmology was evolved at the same time. Above\nZion, the centre of the earth, rise seven heavens, in the highest of\nwhich the Deity has His throne. The underworld is now first divided into\nParadise and Gehenna. The doctrine of the fall of man, through his\nparticipation in the representative guilt of his first parents, is\nPharisaic; as is the strange legend, which St. Paul seems to have\nbelieved (2 Cor. xi. 3), that the Serpent carnally seduced Eve, and so\ninfected the race with spiritual poison. Justification, in Pharisaism as\nfor St. Paul, means the verdict of acquittal. The bad receive in this\nlife the reward for any small merits which they may possess; the sins of\nthe good must be atoned for; but merits, as in Roman Catholicism, may be\nstored and transferred. Martyrdoms especially augment the spiritual\nbank-balance of the whole nation. There was no official Messianic\ndoctrine, only a mass of vague fancies and beliefs, grouped round the\ncentral idea of the appearance on earth of a supernatural Being, who\nshould establish a theocracy of some kind at Jerusalem. The righteous\ndead will be raised to take part in this kingdom. The course of the\nworld is thus divided into two epochs--'this age' and 'the age to come.'\nA catastrophe will end the former and inaugurate the latter. The\npromised deliverer is now waiting in heaven with God, until his hour\ncomes; and it will come very soon. All this St. Paul must have learned\nfrom Gamaliel. It formed the framework of his theology as a Christian\nfor many years after his conversion, and was only partially thrown off,\nunder the influence of mystical experience and of Greek ideas, during\nthe period covered by the letters. The lore of good and bad spirits (the\nlatter are 'the princes of this world' in I Cor. ii. 6, 8) pervades the\nEpistles more than modern readers are willing to admit. It is part of\nthe heritage of the Pharisaic school.\n\nIt is very unlikely (in spite of Johannes Weiss) that St. Paul ever saw\nJesus in the flesh. But he did come in contact with the little Christian\ncommunity at Jerusalem. These disciples at first attempted to live as\nstrict members of the Jewish Church. They knew that the coming Messiah\nwas their crucified Master, but this belief involved no rupture with\nJudaism. So at least they thought themselves; the Sanhedrin saw more\nclearly what the new movement meant. The crisis came when numerous\n'Hellenists' attached themselves to the Church--Jews of the Dispersion,\nfrom Syria, Egypt, and elsewhere. A threatened rupture between these and\nthe Palestinian Christians was averted by the appointment of seven\ndeacons or charity commissioners, among whom Stephen soon became\nprominent by the dangerously 'liberal' character of his teaching. Philo\ngives important testimony to the existence of a 'liberal' school among\nthe Jews of the Dispersion, who, under pretext of spiritualising the\ntraditional law, left off keeping the Sabbath and the great festivals,\nand even dispensed with the rite of circumcision. Thus the admission of\nGentiles on very easy terms into the Church was no new idea to the\nPalestinian Jews; it was known to them as part of the shocking laxity\nwhich prevailed among their brethren of the Dispersion. With Stephen,\nthis kind of liberalism seemed to have entered the group of 'disciples.'\nHe was accused of saying that Jesus was to destroy the temple and change\nthe customs of Moses. In his bold defence he admitted that in his view\nthe Law was valid only for a limited period, which would expire so soon\nas Jesus returned as Messiah. This was quite enough for the Sanhedrin.\nThey stoned Stephen, and compelled the 'disciples' to disperse and fly\nfor their lives. Only the Apostles, whose devotion to the Law was well\nknown, were allowed to remain. This last fact, briefly recorded in Acts,\nis important as an indication that the persecution was directed only\nagainst the liberalising Christians, and that these were the great\nmajority. Saul, it seems, had no quarrel with the Twelve; his hatred and\nfanaticism were aroused against a sect of Hellenist Jews who openly\nproclaimed that the Law had been abrogated in advance by their Master,\nwho, as Saul observed with horror, had incurred the curse of the Law by\ndying on a gibbet. All the Pharisee in him was revolted; and he led the\nsavage heretic-hunt which followed the execution of Stephen.\n\nWhat caused the sudden change which so astonished the survivors among\nhis victims? To suppose that nothing prepared for the vision near\nDamascus, that the apparition in the sky was a mere 'bolt from the\nblue,' is an impossible theory. The best explanation is furnished by a\nstudy of the Apostle's character, which we really know very well. The\nauthor of the Epistles was certainly not a man who could watch a young\nsaint being battered to death by howling fanatics, and feel no emotion.\nStephen's speech may have made him indignant; his heroic death, the very\nideal of a martyrdom, must have awakened very different feelings. An\nundercurrent of dissatisfaction, almost of disgust, at the arid and\nunspiritual seminary teaching of the Pharisees now surged up and came\nvery near the surface. His bigotry sustained him as a persecutor for a\nfew weeks more; but how if he could himself see what the dying Stephen\nsaid that he saw? Would not that be a welcome liberation? The vision\ncame in the desert, where men see visions and hear voices to this day.\nThey were very common in the desert of Gobi when Marco Polo traversed\nit. 'The Spirit of Jesus,' as he came to call it, spoke to his heart,\nand the form of Jesus flashed before his eyes. Stephen had been right;\nthe Crucified was indeed the Lord from heaven. So Saul became a\nChristian; and it was to the Christianity of Stephen, not to that of\nJames the Lord's brother, that he was converted. The Pharisee in him was\nkilled.\n\nThe travelling missionary was as familiar a figure in the Levant as the\ntravelling lecturer on philosophy. The Greek language brought all\nnationalities together. The Hellenising of the East had gone on steadily\nsince the conquests of Alexander; and Greek was already as useful as\nLatin in many parts of the West. A century later, Marcus Aurelius wrote\nhis Confessions in Greek; and even in the middle of the third century,\nwhen the tide was beginning to turn in favour of Latin, Plotinus\nlectured in Greek at Rome. Christianity, within a few years after the\nCrucifixion, had allied itself definitely with the speech, and\ntherefore inevitably with the spirit, of Hellenism. At no time since\nhave travel and trade been so free between the West of Europe and the\nWest of Asia. A Phrygian merchant (according to the inscription on his\ntomb) made seventy-two journeys to Rome in the course of his\nbusiness-life. The decomposition of nationalities, and the destruction\nof civic exclusiveness, led naturally to the formation of voluntary\nassociations of all kinds, from religious sects to trade unions;\nsometimes a single association combined these two functions. The\nOriental religions appealed strongly to the unprivileged classes, among\nwhich genuine religious faith was growing, while the official cults of\nthe Roman Empire were unsatisfying in themselves and associated with\ntyranny. The attempt of Augustus to resuscitate the old religion was\nartificial and unfruitful. The living movement was towards a syncretism\nof religious ideas and practices, all of which came from the Eastern\nprovinces and beyond them. The prominent features in this new devotion\nwere the removal of the supreme Godhead from the world to a\ntranscendental sphere; contempt for the world and ascetic abnegation of\n'the flesh'; a longing for healing and redemption, and a close\nidentification of salvation with individual immortality; and, finally,\ntrust in sacraments ('mysteries,' in Greek) as indispensable means of\ngrace or redemption. This was the Paganism with which Christianity had\nto reckon, as well as with the official cult and its guardians. The\nestablished church it conquered and destroyed; the living syncretistic\nbeliefs it cleansed, simplified, and disciplined, but only absorbed by\nbecoming itself a syncretistic religion. But besides Christians and\nPagans, there were the Jews, dispersed over the whole Empire. There were\nat least a million in Egypt, a country which St. Paul, for reasons\nunknown to us, left severely alone; there were still more in Syria, and\nperhaps five millions in the whole Empire. In spite of the fecundity of\nJewish women, so much emphasised by Seeck in his history of the Downfall\nof the Ancient World, it is impossible that the Hebrew stock should have\nmultiplied to this extent. There must have been a very large number of\nconverts, who were admitted, sometimes without circumcision, on their\nprofession of monotheism and acceptance of the Jewish moral code. The\nmajority of these remained in the class technically called\n'God-fearers,' who never took upon themselves the whole yoke of the Law.\nThese half-Jews were the most promising field for Christian\nmissionaries; and nothing exasperated the Jews more than to see St. Paul\nfishing so successfully in their waters. The spirit of propagandism\nalmost disappeared from Judaism after the middle of the second century.\nJudaism shrank again into a purely Eastern religion, and renounced the\ndangerous compromise with Western ideas. The labours of St. Paul made an\nall-important parting of the ways. Their result was that Christianity\nbecame a European religion, while Judaism fell back upon its old\ntraditions.\n\nIt is very unfortunate that we have no thoroughly trustworthy records of\nthe Apostle's earlier mission preaching. The Epistles only cover a\nperiod of about ten years; and the rapid development of thought which\ncan be traced during this short time prevents us from assuming that his\nearlier teaching closely resembled that which we find in the Letters.\nBut if, during the earlier period, he devoted his attention mainly to\nthose who were already under Jewish influence, we may be sure that he\nspoke much of the Messiahship of Jesus, and of His approaching return,\nthese being the chief articles of faith in Judaic Christianity. This\nwas, however, only the framework. What attracted converts was really the\nhistorical picture of the life of Jesus; his message of love and\nbrotherhood, which they found realised in the little communities of\nbelievers; and the abolition of all external barriers between human\nbeings, such as social position, race, and sex, which had undoubtedly\nbeen proclaimed by the Founder, and contained implicitly the promise of\nan universal religion. We can infer what the manner of his preaching was\nfrom the style of the letters, which were probably dictated like\nextempore addresses, without much preparation. He was no trained orator,\nand he thoroughly disdained the arts of the rhetorician. His Greek,\nthough vigorous and effective, is neither correct nor elegant. His\neloquence is of the kind which proceeds from intense conviction, and\nfrom a thorough knowledge of Old Testament prophecy and psalmody--no bad\npreparation for a religious teacher. If at times he argued like a Rabbi,\nthese frigid debates were as acceptable to ancient Jews as they are to\nmodern Scotsmen. And when he takes fire, as he deals with some vital\ntruth which he has lived as well as learned and taught, he establishes\nhis right to be called what he never aimed at being--a writer of genius.\nSuch passages as 1 Cor. xiii., Phil, ii., Rom. viii., rank among the\nfinest compositions in later Greek literature. Regarded merely as a\npiece of poetical prose, 1 Cor. xiii. is finer than anything that had\nbeen written in the Greek language since the great Attic prose-writers.\nAnd if this was dictated impromptu, similar outbursts of splendid\neloquence were probably frequent in his mission-preaching. Their effect\nmust have been overwhelming, when reinforced by the flashing eye of the\nspeaker, and by the absolute sincerity which none could doubt who saw\nhis face and figure, furrowed by toil and scarred by torture.\n\nIn addressing the Gentiles, we may assume that he followed the customary\nJewish line of apologetic, denouncing the folly of idolatry--an aid to\nworship which is quite innocent and natural in some peoples, but which\nthe Jews never understood; that he spoke much of judgment to come; and\nespecially that he contrasted the pure and affectionate social life of\nthe Christian brotherhood with the licentiousness, cruelty, injustice,\noppression, and mutual suspicion of Pagan society. This argument\nprobably struck home in very many 'Gentile' hearts. The old\ncivilisation, with all the brilliant qualities which make many moderns\nregret its destruction, rested on too narrow a base. The woman and the\nslave were left out, the woman especially by the Greeks, and the slave\nby the Romans. Acute social inequalities always create pride, brutality,\nand widespread sexual immorality. And when the structure which\nmaintained these inequalities is itself tottering, the oppressed classes\nbegin to feel that they are unnecessary, and to hope for emancipation.\nWhen St. Paul drew his lurid pictures of Pagan society steeped in\nunnatural abominations, without hope for the future, 'hateful and hating\none another,' and then pointed to the little flock of Christians--among\nwhom no one was allowed to be idle and no one to starve, and where\nfamily life was pure and mutual confidence full, frank and seldom\nabused--the woman and the slave, of whom Aristotle had spoken so\ncontemptuously, flocked into his congregations, and began to organise\nthemselves for that victory which Nietzsche thought so deplorable.\n\nIt is not necessary in this essay to traverse again the familiar field\nof St. Paul's missionary journeys. The first epoch, which embraces about\nfourteen years, had its scene in Syria and Cilicia, with the short tour\nin Cyprus and other parts of Asia Minor. The second period, which ends\nwith the imprisonment in A.D. 58 or 59, is far more important. St. Paul\ncrosses into Europe; he works in Macedonia and Greece. Churches are\nfounded in two of the great towns of the ancient world, Corinth and\nEphesus. According to his letters, we must assume that he only once\nreturned to Jerusalem from the great tour in the West, undertaken after\nthe controversy with Peter; and that the object of this visit was to\ndeliver the money which he had promised to collect for the poor 'saints'\nat Jerusalem. He intended after this to go to Rome, and thence to\nSpain--a scheme worthy of the restless genius of an Alexander. He saw\nRome indeed, but as a prisoner. The rest of his life is lost in\nobscurity. The writer of the Acts does not say that the two years'\nimprisonment ended in his execution; and if it was so, it is difficult\nto see why such a fact should be suppressed. If the charge against him\nwas at last dismissed, because the accusers did not think it worth while\nto come to Rome to prosecute it, St. Luke's silence is more explicable.\nIn any case, we may regard it as almost certain that St. Paul ended his\nlife under a Roman axe during the reign of Nero.\n\n'There is hardly any fact' (says Harnack) 'which deserves to be turned\nover and pondered so much as this, that the religion of Jesus has never\nbeen able to root itself in Jewish or even upon Semitic soil.' This\nextraordinary result is the judgment of history upon the life and work\nof St. Paul. Jewish Christianity rapidly withered and died. According to\nJustin, who must have known the facts, Jesus was rejected by the whole\nJewish nation 'with a few exceptions.' In Galilee especially, few, if\nany, Christian Churches existed. There are other examples, of which\nBuddhism is the most notable, of a religion gaining its widest\nacceptance outside the borders of the country which gave it birth. But\nhistory oilers no parallel to the complete vindication of St. Paul's\npolicy in carrying Christianity over into the Graeco-Roman world, where\nalone, as the event proved, it could live. This is a complete answer to\nthose who maintain that Christ made no break with Judaism. Such a\nstatement is only tenable if it is made in the sense of Harnack's words,\nthat 'what Gentile Christianity did was to carry out a process which had\nin fact commenced long before in Judaism itself, viz. the process by\nwhich the Jewish religion was inwardly emancipated and turned into a\nreligion for the world.' But the true account would be that Judaism,\nlike other great ideas, had to 'die to live,' It died in its old form,\nin giving birth to the religion of civilised humanity, as the Greek\nnation perished in giving birth to Hellenism, and the Roman in creating\nthe Mediterranean empire of the Caesars and the Catholic Church of the\nPopes. The Jewish people were unable to make so great a sacrifice of\ntheir national hopes. With the matchless tenacity which characterises\ntheir race they clung to their tribal God and their temporal and local\nmillennium. The disasters of A.D. 70 and of the revolt under Hadrian\ndestroyed a great part of the race, and at last uprooted it from the\nsoil of Palestine. But conservatism, as usual, has had its partial\njustification. Judaism has refused to acknowledge the religion of the\ncivilised world as her legitimate child; but the nation has refused also\nto surrender its life. There are no more Greeks and Romans; but the Jews\nwe have always with us.\n\nSt. Paul saw that the Gospel was a far greater and more revolutionary\nscheme than the Galilean apostles had dreamed of. In principle he\ncommitted himself from the first to the complete emancipation of\nChristianity from Judaism. But it was inevitable that he did not at\nfirst realise all that he had undertaken. And, fortunately for us, the\nmost rapid evolution in his thought took place daring the ten years to\nwhich his extant letters belong. It is exceedingly interesting to trace\nhis gradual progress away from Apocalyptic Messianism to a position very\nnear that of the fourth Gospel. The evangelist whom we call St. John is\nthe best commentator on Paulinism. This is one of the most important\ndiscoveries of recent New Testament criticism.\n\nIn the earliest Epistles--those to the Thessalonians--we have the naive\npicture of Messiah coming on the clouds, which, as we now know, was part\nof the Pharisaic tradition. In the central group the Christology is far\nmore complex. Besides the Pharisaic Messiah, and the records of the\nhistorical Jesus of Nazareth, we have now to reckon with the\nJewish-Alexandrian idea of the generic, archetypal man, which is\nunintelligible without reference to the Platonic philosophy. Philo is\nhere a great help towards understanding one of the most difficult parts\nof the Apostle's teaching. We have also, fully developed, the mystical\ndoctrine of the Spirit of Christ immanent in the soul of the believer, a\nconception which was the core of St. Paul's personal religion, and more\nthan anything else emancipated him from apocalyptic dreams of the\nfuture. We have also a fourth conception, quite distinct from the three\nwhich have been mentioned--that of Christ as a cosmic principle, the\ninstrument in creation and the sustainer of all his in the universe. We\nmust again have recourse to Philo and his doctrine of the Logos, to\nunderstand the genesis of this idea, and to the Fourth Gospel to find it\nstated in clear philosophical form. In this second period, these\ntheories about the Person of Christ are held concurrently, without any\nattempt to reconcile or systematise them. The eschatology is being\nseriously modified by the conception of a 'spiritual body,' which is\nprepared for us so soon as our 'outward man' decays in death. The\nresurrection of the flesh is explicitly denied (1 Cor. xv. 50); but a\nnew and incorruptible 'clothing' will be given to the soul in the future\nstate. Already the fundamental Pharisaic doctrine of the two ages--the\npresent age and that which is to come--is in danger. St. Paul can now,\nlike a true Greek, contrast the things that are seen, which are\ntemporal, with the things that are not seen, which are eternal. The\ndoctrine of the Spirit as a present possession of Christians brings down\nheaven to earth and exalts earth to heaven; the 'Parousia' is now only\nthe end of the existing world-order, and has but little significance for\nthe individual. These ideas have not displaced the earlier apocalyptic\nlanguage; but it is easy to see that the one or the other must recede\ninto the background, and that the Pharisaic tradition will be the one to\nfade.\n\nThe third group of Epistles--Philippians, Colossians, and Ephesians--are\nsteeped in ideas which belong to Greek philosophy and the Greek\nmystery-religions. It would be impossible to translate them into any\nEastern language. The Rabbinical disputes with the Jews about\njustification and election have disappeared; the danger ahead is now\nfrom theosophy and the barbarised Platonism which was afterwards matured\nin Gnosticism. The teaching is even more Christocentric than before; and\nthe Catholic doctrine of the Church as the body of Christ is more\nprominent than individualistic mysticism. The cosmology is thoroughly\nJohannine, and only awaits the name of the Logos.\n\nThis receptiveness to new ideas is one of the most remarkable features\nin St. Paul's mind. Few indeed are the religious prophets and preachers\nwhose convictions are still malleable after they have begun to govern\nthe minds of others. St. Paul had already proved that he was a man who\nwould 'follow the gleam,' even when it called him to a complete breach\nwith his past. And the further development of his thought was made much\neasier by the fact that he was no systematic philosopher, but a great\nmissionary who was willing to be all things to all men, while his own\nfaith was unified by his strength of purpose, and by the steady glow of\nthe light within.\n\nIt is difficult for us to realise the life of his little communities\nwithout importing into the picture features which belong to a later\ntime. The organisation, such as it was, was democratic. The congregation\nas a whole exercised a censorship over the morals of its members, and\npenalties were inflicted 'by vote of the majority' (2 Cor. ii. 6). The\nfamily formed a group for religious purposes, and remained the\nrecognised unit till the second century. In Ignatius and Hermas we find\nthe campaign against family churches in full swing. The meetings were\nlike those of modern revivalists, and sometimes became disorderly. But\nof the moral beauty which pervaded the whole life of the brotherhoods\nthere can be no doubt. Many of the converts had formerly led\ndisreputable lives; but these were the most likely to appreciate the\ngain of being no longer outlaws, but members of a true family. The\nheathen were amazed at the kind of people whom the Christians admitted\nand treated like brethren; but in the first century scandals do not seem\nto have been frequent. Women, who were probably always the majority,\nenjoyed a consideration unknown by them before. The extreme importance\nattached by the early Church to sexual purity made it possible for them\nto mix freely with Christian men; indeed, the strange and perilous\npractice of a 'brother' and a virgin sharing the same house seems to\nhave already begun, if this is the meaning of the obscure passage in I\nCor. vii. 36.\n\nChastity and indifference to death were the two qualities in Christians\nwhich made the greatest impression on their neighbours. Galen is\nespecially interesting on the former topic. But we must add a third\ncharacteristic--the cheerfulness and happiness which marked the early\nChristian communities. 'Joy' as a moral quality is a Christian\ninvention, as a study of the usage of charha in Greek will show. Even in\nAugustine's time the temper of the Christians, 'serena et non dissolute\nhilaris' was one of the things which attracted him to the Church. The\nsecret of this happy social life was an intense realisation of\ncorporate unity among the members of the confraternity, which they\nrepresented to themselves as a 'mystery'--a mystical union between the\nHead and members of a 'body.' It is in this conception, and not in\nritual details, that we are justified in finding a real and deep\ninfluence of the mystery-cults upon Christianity. The Catholic\nconception of sacraments as bonds uniting religious communities, and as\nchannels of grace flowing from a corporate treasury, was as certainly\npart of the Greek mystery-religion as it was foreign to Judaism. The\nmysteries had their bad side, as might be expected in private and\nhalf-secret societies; but their influence as a whole was certainly\ngood. The three chief characteristics of mystery-religion were, first,\nrites of purification, both moral and ceremonial; second, the promise of\nspiritual communion with some deity, who through them enters into his\nworshippers; third, the hope of immortality, which the Greeks often\ncalled 'deification,' and which was secured to those who were initiated.\n\nIt is useless to deny that St. Paul regarded Christianity as, at least\non one side, a mystery-religion. Why else should he have used a number\nof technical terms which his readers would recognise at once as\nbelonging to the mysteries? Why else should he repeatedly use the word\n'mystery' itself, applying it to doctrines distinctive of Christianity,\nsuch as the resurrection with a 'spiritual body,' the relation of the\nJewish people to God, and, above all, the mystical union between Christ\nand Christians? The great' mystery' is 'Christ in you, the hope of\nglory' (Col i. 27). It was as a mystery-religion that Europe accepted\nChristianity. Just as the Jewish Christians took with them the whole\nframework of apocalyptic Messianism, and set the figure of Jesus within\nit, so the Greeks took with them the whole scheme of the mysteries, with\ntheir sacraments, their purifications and fasts, their idea of a\nmystical brotherhood, and their doctrine of 'salvation' (soterhia is\nessentially a mystery word) through membership in a divine society,\nworshipping Christ as the patronal deity of their mysteries.\n\nHistorically, this type of Christianity was the origin of Catholicism,\nboth Western and Eastern; though it is only recently that this character\nof the Pauline churches has been recognised. And students of the New\nTestament have not yet realised the importance of the fact that St.\nPaul, who was ready to fight to the death against the Judaising of\nChristianity, was willing to take the first step, and a long one,\ntowards the Paganising of it. It does not appear that his personal\nreligion was of this type. He speaks with contempt of some doctrines and\npractices of the Pagan mysteries, and will allow no _rapprochement_ with\nwhat he regards as devil-worship. In this he remains a pure Hebrew. But\nhe does not appear to see any danger in allowing his Hellenistic\nchurches to assimilate the worship of Christ to the honours paid to the\ngods of the mysteries, and to set their whole religion in this\nframework, provided only that they have no part nor lot with those who\nsit at 'the table of demons'--the sacramental love-feasts of the heathen\nmysteries. The dangers which he does see, and against which he issues\nwarnings, are, besides Judaism, antinomianism and disorder on the one\nhand, and dualistic asceticism on the other. He dislikes or mistrusts\n'the speaking with tongues' (glossolalhia), which was the favourite\nexhibition of religious enthusiasm at Corinth. (On this subject Prof.\nLake's excursus is the most instructive discussion that has yet\nappeared. The 'Testament of Job' and the magical papyri show that\ngibberish uttered in a state of spiritual excitement was supposed to be\nthe language of angels and spirits, understood by them and acting upon\nthem as a charm.) He urges his converts to do all things 'decently and\nin order.' He is alarmed at signs of moral laxity on the part of\nself-styled 'spiritual persons'--a great danger in all times of ecstatic\nenthusiasm. He is also alive to the dangers connected with that kind of\nasceticism which is based on theories of the impurity of the body--the\ntypical Oriental form of world-renunciation. But he does not appear to\nhave foreseen the unethical and polytheistic developments of sacramental\ninstitutionalism. In this particular his Judaising opponents had a\nlittle more justification than he is willing to allow them.\n\n\nST. PAUL\n\nThere is something transitional about all St. Paul's teaching. We cannot\ntake him out of his historical setting, as so many of his commentators\nin the nineteenth century tried to do. This is only another way of\nsaying that he was, to use his own expression, a wise master-builder,\nnot a detached thinker, an arm-chair philosopher. To the historian,\nthere must always be something astounding in the magnitude of the task\nwhich he set himself, and in his enormous success. The future history of\nthe civilised world for two thousand years, perhaps for all time, was\ndetermined by his missionary journeys and hurried writings. It is\nimpossible to guess what would have become of Christianity if he had\nnever lived; we cannot even be sure that the religion of Europe would be\ncalled by the name of Christ. This stupendous achievement seems to have\nbeen due to an almost unique practical insight into the essential\nfactors of a very difficult and complex situation. We watch him, with\nbreathless interest, steering the vessel which carried the Christian\nChurch and its fortunes through a narrow channel full of sunken rocks\nand shoals. With unerring instinct he avoids them all, and brings the\nship, not into smooth water, but into the open sea, out of that perilous\nstrait. And so far was his masterly policy from mere opportunism, that\nhis correspondence has been 'Holy Scripture' for fifty generations of\nChristians, and there has been no religious revival within Christianity\nthat has not been, on one side at least, a return to St. Paul.\nProtestants have always felt their affinity with this institutionalist,\nmystics with this disciplinarian. The reason, put shortly, is that St.\nPaul understood what most Christians never realise, namely, that the\nGospel of Christ is not _a_ religion, but religion itself, in its most\nuniversal and deepest significance.\n\n\n\n\nINSTITUTIONALISM AND MYSTICISM\n\n(1914)\n\n\nIt happens sometimes that two opposite tendencies flourish together,\nderiving strength from a sense of the danger with which each is\nthreatened by the popularity of the other. Where the antagonism is not\nabsolute, each may gain by being compelled to recognise the strong\npoints in the rival position. In a serious controversy the right is\nseldom or never all on one side; and in the normal course of events both\ntheories undergo some modification through the influence of their\nopponents, until a compromise, not always logically defensible, brings\nto an end the acute stage of the controversy. Such a tension of rival\nmovements is very apparent in the religious thought of our day. The\nquickening of spiritual life in our generation has taken two forms,\nwhich appear to be, and to a large extent are, sharply opposed to each\nother. On the one side, there has been a great revival of mysticism.\nMysticism means an immediate communion, real or supposed, between the\nhuman soul and the Soul of the World or the Divine Spirit. The\nhypothesis on which it rests is that there is a real affinity between\nthe individual soul and the great immanent Spirit, who in Christian\ntheology is identified with the Logos-Christ. He was the instrument in\ncreation, and through the Incarnation and the gift of the Holy Spirit,\nin which the Incarnation is continued, has entered into the most\nintimate relation with the inner life of the believer. This revived\nbelief in the inspiration of the individual has immensely strengthened\nthe position of Christian apologists, who find their old fortifications\nno longer tenable against the assaults of natural science and\nhistorical criticism. It has given to faith a new independence, and has\nvindicated for the spiritual life the right to stand on its own feet and\nrest on its own evidence. Spiritual things, we now realise, are\nspiritually discerned. The enlightened soul can see the invisible, and\nlive its true life in the suprasensible sphere. The primary evidence for\nthe truth of religion is religious experience, which in persons of\nreligious genius--those whom the Church calls saints and\nprophets--includes a clear perception of an eternal world of truth,\nbeauty, and goodness, surrounding us and penetrating us at every point.\nIt is the unanimous testimony of these favoured spirits that the\nobstacles in the way of realising this transcendental world are purely\nsubjective and to a large extent removable by the appropriate training\nand discipline. Nor is there any serious discrepancy among them either\nas to the nature of the vision which is the highest reward of human\neffort, or as to the course of preparation which makes us able to\nreceive it. The Christian mystic must begin with the punctual and\nconscientious discharge of his duties to society; he must next purify\nhis desires from all worldly and carnal lusts, for only the pure in\nheart can see God; and he may thus fit himself for 'illumination'--the\nstage in which the glory and beauty of the spiritual life, now clearly\ndiscerned, are themselves the motive of action and the incentive to\ncontemplation; while the possibility of a yet more immediate and\nineffable vision of the Godhead is not denied, even in this life. There\nis reason to think that this conception of religion appeals more and\nmore strongly to the younger generation to-day. It brings an intense\nfeeling of relief to many who have been distressed by being told that\nreligion is bound up with certain events in antiquity, the historicity\nof which it is in some cases difficult to establish; with a cosmology\nwhich has been definitely disproved; and with a philosophy which they\ncannot make their own. It allows us what George Meredith calls 'the\nrapture of the forward view.' It brings home to us the meaning of the\npromise made by the Johannine Christ that there are many things as yet\nhid from humanity which will in the future be revealed by the Spirit of\nTruth. It encourages us to hope that for each individual who is trying\nto live the right life the venture of faith will be progressively\njustified in experience. It breaks down the denominational barriers\nwhich divide men and women who worship the Father in spirit and in\ntruth--barriers which become more senseless in each generation, since\nthey no longer correspond even approximately with real differences of\nbelief or of religious temperament. It makes the whole world kin by\noffering a pure religion which is substantially the same in all climates\nand in all ages--a religion too divine to be fettered by any man-made\nformulas, too nobly human to be readily acceptable to men in whom the\nape and tiger are still alive, but which finds a congenial home in the\npurified spirit which is the 'throne of the Godhead.' Such is the type\nof faith which is astir among us. It makes no imposing show in Church\nconferences; it does not fill our churches and chapels; it has no\norganisation, no propaganda; it is for the most part passively loyal,\nwithout much enthusiasm, to the institutions among which it finds\nitself. But in reality it has overleapt all barriers; it knows its true\nspiritual kin; and amid the strifes and perplexities of a sad and\ntroublous time it can always recover its hope and confidence by\nascending in heart and mind to the heaven which is closer to it than\nbreathing, and nearer than hands and feet.\n\nBut on the other side we see a tendency, even more manifest if we look\nfor external signs, to emphasise the institutional side of religion,\nthat which prompts men and women to combine in sacred societies, to\ncherish enthusiastic loyalties for the Church of their early education\nor of their later choice, to find their chief satisfaction in acts of\ncorporate worship, and to subordinate their individual tastes and\nbeliefs to the common tradition and discipline of a historical body. It\nis now about eighty years since this tendency began to manifest itself\nas a new phenomenon in the Anglican Church. Since then, it has spread to\nother organisations. It has prompted a new degree of denominational\nloyalty in several Protestant bodies on the Continent, in America, and\nin our own country; and it has arrested the decline of the Roman\nCatholic Church in countries where the outlook seemed least hopeful from\nthe ecclesiastical point of view. Such a movement, so widespread and so\npowerful in its results, is clearly a thing to be reckoned with by all\nwho desire to estimate rightly the signs of the times. It is a current\nrunning in the opposite direction to the mystical tendency, which\nregards unity as a spiritual, not a political ideal. Fortunately, the\ntheory of institutionalism has lately been defended and expounded by\nseveral able writers belonging to different denominations; so that we\nmay hope, by comparing their utterances, to understand the attractions\nof the theory and its meaning for those who so highly value it.\n\nAubrey Moore, writing in 1889, connected the Catholic revival with the\nabandonment of atomism in natural philosophy and of Baconian\nmetaphysics. These were, he thought, the counterpart of individualism in\npolitics and Calvinism in religion. The adherents of mid-Victorian\nscience and philosophy were bewildered by the phenomenon of 'men in the\nnineteenth century actually expressing a belief in a divine society and\na supernatural presence in our midst, a brotherhood in which men become\nmembers of an organic whole by sharing in a common life, a service of\nman which is the natural and spontaneous outcome of the service of\nGod.'[90] In the view of this learned and acute thinker, Catholicism, or\ninstitutionalism, is destined to supplant Protestantism, as the organic\ntheory is destined to displace the atomic.\n\nMore recently Troeltsch, writing as a Protestant, has emphasised the\ninstitutional side of religion in the most uncompromising way.\n\n     'One of the clearest results of all religious history and\n     religious psychology is that the essence of all religion is\n     not dogma and idea, but cultus and communion, the living\n     intercourse with the Deity--an intercourse of the entire\n     community, having its vital roots in religion and deriving\n     its ultimate power of thus uniting individuals, from its\n     faith in God.... Whatever the future may bring us, we cannot\n     expect a certainty and force of the knowledge of God and of\n     His redemptive power to subsist without communion and\n     cultus. And so long as a Christianity of any kind shall\n     subsist at all, it will be united with a cultus, and with\n     Christ holding a central position in the cultus.'[91]\n\nFrom America, the last refuge of individualism, there has come a\npronouncement not less drastic. Professor Royce, the author of the\nadmirable metaphysical treatise entitled 'The World and the Individual,'\nhas recently published a double series of Hibbert Lectures on 'The\nProblem of Christianity,' in which he affirms the institutionalist\ntheory with a surprising absence of qualification. The whole book is\ndominated by one idea, advocated with a _naivete_ which would hardly\nhave been possible to a theologian--the idea that churchmanship is the\nessential part of the Christian religion.\n\n     'The salvation of the individual man is determined by some\n     sort of membership in a certain spiritual community--a\n     religious community, and in its inmost nature a divine\n     community, in whose life the Christian virtues are to reach\n     their highest expression and the spirit of the Master is to\n     obtain its earthly fulfilment. In other words, there is a\n     certain universal and divine spiritual community. Membership\n     in that community is necessary to the salvation of man....\n     Such a community exists, is needed, and is an indispensable\n     means of salvation for the individual man, and is the\n     fitting realm wherein alone the kingdom of heaven which the\n     Master preached can find its expression, and wherein alone\n     the Christian virtues can be effectively preached.'[92]\n\nThese statements, which in vigour and rigour would satisfy the most\nextreme curialist in the Society of Jesus, are not a little startling in\nan American philosopher, who, as far as the present writer knows, does\nnot belong to any 'Catholic' Church. The thesis thus enunciated is the\nargument of the whole book, in which 'loyalty to the beloved community'\nis declared to be the characteristic Christian virtue. It is true that\nthe satisfaction of Professor Royce's Catholic readers is destined to be\ndamped in the second volume, where he forbids us to look for the ideal\ndivine community in any existing Church, and expresses his conviction\nthat great changes must come over the dogmatic teaching of Christianity.\nBut for our purpose the significant fact is that throughout the book he\ninsists that Christianity is essentially an institutional religion, the\nmost completely institutional of all religions. For Professor Royce to\nbe a Christian is to be a Churchman.\n\nOur last witness shall be the learned Roman Catholic layman, Baron\nFriedrich von Huegel, the deepest thinker, perhaps, of all living\ntheologians in this country. 'It is now ever increasingly clear to all\ndeep impartial students that religion has ever primarily expressed and\nformed itself in cultus, in social organisation, social worship,\nintercourse between soul and soul and between soul and God; and in\nsymbols and sacraments, in contacts between spirit and matter.' He\nproceeds to discuss the strength and weakness of institutionalism in a\nperfectly candid spirit, but with too particular reference to the\npresent conditions within the Roman Church to help us much in our more\ngeneral survey. He mentions the drawbacks of an official philosophy,\nprescribed by authority; 'only in 1835 did the Congregation of the Index\nwithdraw heliocentric books from its list.' He emphasises the necessity\nof historical dogmas, but admits that orthodoxy cherishes, along with\nthem, 'fact-like historical pictures' which 'cannot be taken as\ndirectly, simply factual.' He vindicates the orthodoxy of religious\ntoleration, and refuses to consign all non-Catholics to perdition,\nlamenting the tendency to identify absolutely the visible and invisible\nChurch, which prevails among 'some of the (now dominant) Italian and\nGerman Jesuit Canonists.' Lastly, he boldly recommends the frank\nabandonment of the Papal claim to exercise temporal power in Italy. This\nis not so much a critique of institutionalism as the plea of a Liberal\nCatholic that the logic of institutionalism should not be allowed to\noverride all other considerations. The Baron is, indeed, himself a\nmystic, though also a strong believer in the necessity of institutional\nreligion.\n\nWe have then a considerable body of very competent opinion, that a man\ncannot be a Christian unless he is a Churchman. To the mystic pure and\nsimple, such a statement seems monstrous. Did not even Augustine say, 'I\nwant to know God and my own soul; these two things, and no third\nwhatever'? What intermediary can there be, he will ask, between the soul\nand God? What sacredness is there in an organisation? Is it not a matter\nof common experience that the morality of an institution, a society, a\nstate, is inferior to that of the individuals who compose it? And is\norganised Catholicism an exception to this rule? And yet we must admit\nthe glamour of the idea of a divine society. It arouses that _esprit de\ncorps_ which is the strongest appeal that can be made to some noble\nminds. It calls for self-sacrifice and devoted labour in a cause which\nis higher than private interest. It demands discipline and co-operation,\nthrough which alone great things can be done on the field of history. It\nholds out a prospect of really influencing the course of events. And if\nthere has been a historical Incarnation, it follows that God has\nactually intervened on the stage of history, and that it is His will to\ncarry out some great and divine purpose in and by means of the course of\nhistory. With this object, as the Catholic believes, He established an\ninstitutional Church, pledged to the highest of all causes; and what\ngreater privilege can there be than to take part in this work, as a\nsoldier in the army of God in His long campaign against the spiritual\npowers of evil? The Christian institutionalist is the servant of a grand\nidea.\n\nThere are, however, a few questions which we are bound to ask him.\nFirst, is his idea of the Church Christian? Did the Founder of\nChristianity contemplate or even implicitly sanction the establishment\nof a semi-political international society, such as the Catholic Church\nhas actually been? Orthodox Catholicism maintains that He did. Modernism\nadmits that He did not, but adds that if He had known that the Messianic\nexpectation was illusory, and that the existing world-order was to\ncontinue for thousands of years, He would certainly have wished that a\nCatholic Church should exist. And, argues the Modernist, if it is a good\nthing that a Catholic Church should exist, it is useless to quarrel with\nthe conditions under which alone it can maintain its existence. The\nphilosophical historian must admit that all the changes which the\nCatholic Church has undergone--its concessions to Pagan superstition,\nits secular power, its ruthless extirpation of rebels against its\nauthority, its steadily growing centralisation and autocracy--were\nforced upon it in the struggle for existence. Those who wish that Church\nhistory had been different are wishing the impossible, or wishing that\nthe Church had perished. But this argument is not valid as a defence of\na divine institution. It is rather a merciless exposure of what happens,\nand must happen, to a great idea when it is enslaved by an institution\nof its own creation. The political organisation which has grown up round\nthe idea ends by strangling it, and continues to fight for its own\npreservation by the methods which govern the policy of all other\npolitical organisations--force, fraud, and accommodation. There is\nnothing in the political history of Catholicism which suggests in the\nslightest degree that the spirit of Christ has been the guiding\nprinciple in its councils. Its methods have, on the contrary, been more\ncruel, more fraudulent, more unscrupulous, than those of most secular\npowers. If the Founder of Christianity had appeared again on earth\nduring the so-called ages of faith, it is hardly possible to doubt that\nHe would, have been burnt alive or crucified again. What the Latin\nChurch preserved was not the religion of Christ, which lived on by its\ninherent indestructibility, but parts of the Aristotelian and Platonic\nphilosophies, distorted and petrified by scholasticism, a vast quantity\nof purely Pagan superstitions, and the _arcana imperii_ of Roman\nCaesarism. The normal end of Scholasticism is a mummified philosophy of\nauthority, in which there are no problems to solve, but a great many\ndead pundits to consult. The normal end of a policy which exploits the\nsuperstitions of the peasant is a desperate warfare against education.\nThe normal end of Roman Imperialism is a sultanate like that of\nDiocletian. It is difficult to find a proof of infallible and\nsupernatural wisdom in the evolution of which these are the last terms.\nWe read with the utmost sympathy and admiration Baron von Huegel's loyal\nand reverent appeals to the authorities of his Church, that they may\ndraw out the strong and beneficent powers of institutionalism, and avoid\nits insidious dangers. But it may be doubted whether such a policy is\npossible. The future of Roman Catholicism is, I fear, with the\nUltramontanes. They, and not the Modernists, are in the line of\ndevelopment which Catholicism as an institution has consistently\nfollowed, and must continue to follow to the end. I can see no other\nfate in store for the _soma_ of Catholicism; the germ-cells of true\nChristianity live their own life within it, and are transmitted without\ntaint to those who are born of the Spirit.\n\nWe must further ask the institutionalist what are his grounds for\nidentifying the Church of God with the particular institution to which\nhe belongs. On the institutionalist hypothesis, it might have been\nexpected either that there would have been no divisions in Christendom,\nor that all seceding bodies would have shown such manifest inferiority\nin wisdom, morality, and sanctity, that the exclusive claims of the\nGreat Church would have been ratified at the bar of history. This is, in\nfact, the claim which Roman Catholics make. But it can only be upheld by\nwriting history in the spirit of an advocate, or by giving a preference,\nnot in accordance with modern ethical views, to certain types of\ncharacter which are produced by the monastic life of the Catholic\n'religious,' It is increasingly difficult to find, in the lives of those\nwho belong to any one denomination, proofs of marked superiority over\nother Christians. Of course, we know little of the real character of our\nneighbours as they appear in the eyes of God; but in considering a\ntheory which lays so much stress on history as Catholic institutionalism\ndoes, we are bound to make use of such evidence as we have. And the\nevidence does not support the theory that we cannot be Christians unless\nwe are Catholics. Nor does it even countenance the view that we cannot\nbe Christians unless we are enthusiastic members of _some_ religious\ncorporation. Professor Royce seems to have been carried away by the idea\nwhich prompted him to write his book; but a little thought about the\ncharacters of his acquaintances might have given him pause.\n\nThe mechanical theory of devolution which assumes so much importance in\nsome fashionable Anglican teaching about the Church need not detain us\nlong. The logical choice must ultimately be between the great\ninternational Catholic Church and what Auguste Sabatier called the\nreligion of the Spirit. The religion of all Protestants, when it is not\nsecularised, as it too often is, belongs to this latter type, even when\nthey lay most stress on the idea of brotherhood and corporate action.\nFor with them institutions are never much more than associations for\nmutual help and edification. The Protestant always hopes to be saved\n_qua_ Christian, not _qua_ Churchman.\n\nA third question which must be asked is whether institutionalism in\npractice makes for unity among Christians, or for division. Too often\nthe chief visible sign of the 'corporate idea' of which so much is said,\nis the rigidity of the spikes which it erects round its own particular\nfold. The obstacles to acts of reunion (which in no way carry with them\nthe necessity of formal amalgamation) are raised almost exclusively by\nstiff institutionalists. The much-discussed Kikuyu case has brought this\nhome to everybody. But for these uncompromising Churchmen, Christians of\nall denominations would be glad enough to meet together at the Lord's\ntable on special occasions like the service which gave rise to this\ncontroversy. Anglicans are well aware that the differences of opinion\nwithin their body are far greater than those which separate some of them\nfrom Protestant Nonconformity, and others of them from Home. Allegiance\nto this or that denomination is generally an accident of early\nsurroundings. To make these external classifications into barriers which\ncannot be crossed is either an absurdity or a confession that a Church\nis a political aggregate. A Roman Monsignor explained, _a propos_ of the\nKikuyu service, that no Roman Catholic could ever communicate in a\nProtestant church, because in so doing he would be guilty of an act of\napostasy, and would be no longer a Roman Catholic. The attitude is\nconsistent with the Roman claim to universal jurisdiction; for any other\nbody it would be absurd. The stiff institutionalist is debarred by his\ntheory from fraternising with many who should be his friends, while he\nis bound to others with whom he has no sympathy. His theory is once more\nfound to conflict with the facts.\n\nLastly, we must ask whether institutionalism is really a spiritual and\nmoral force. Of the advantages of _esprit de corps_ I have spoken\nalready. No one can doubt that unity is strength, or that Catholicism\nhas an immense advantage over its rivals in the efficiency of its\norganisation. But is not this advantage dearly purchased? Party loyalty\nis notoriously unscrupulous. The idealised institution becomes itself\nthe object of worship, and it is entirely forgotten that a Christian\nChurch ought to have no 'interests' except the highest welfare of\nhumanity. The substitution of military for civil ethics has worked\ndisastrously on the conduct of Churchmen. Theoretically it is admitted\nby Roman casuists that an immoral order ought not to be obeyed; but it\nis not for a layman to pronounce immoral any order received from a\npriest; if the order is really immoral, 'obedience' exonerates him who\nexecutes it; in all other cases disobedience is a deadly sin. The result\nof this submission of private judgment is that the voice of conscience\nis often stifled, and unscrupulous policies are carried through by\nChurchmen, which secular public opinion would have condemned decisively\nand rejected. The persecution of Dreyfus is a recent and strong\ninstance. If all France had been Catholic, the victim of this shocking\ninjustice would certainly have died in prison. It is extremely doubtful\nwhether the presence of a highly organised Church is conducive to moral\nand social reform in a country. The temptation to play a political game\nseems to be always too strong. In Ireland the priesthood has probably\nhelped to maintain a comparatively high standard of sexual morality, but\nit cannot be said that the Irish Catholic population is in other\nrespects a model of civilisation and good citizenship. In education\nespecially the influence of ecclesiasticism has been almost uniformly\npernicious, so that it seems impossible for any country where the\nchildren are left under priestly influence to rise above a certain\nrather low level of civilisation. The strongest claim of\ninstitutionalism to our respect is probably the beneficial restraint\nwhich it exercises upon many persons who need moral and intellectual\nguidance. It is the fashion to disparage the scholastic theology, and it\nhas certainly suffered by being congealed, like everything else that\nRome touches, into a hard system; but it is immeasurably superior to the\ntheosophies and fancy religions which run riot in the superficially\ncultivated classes of Protestant countries. The undisciplined mystic, in\nhis reliance on the inner light, may fall into various kinds of\n_Schwaermerei_ and superstition. In some cases he may even lose his\nsanity for want of a wise restraining influence. It is not an accident\nthat America, where institutionalism is weakest, is the happy\nhunting-ground of religious quacks and cranks. Individualists are too\nprone to undervalue the steadying influence of ancient and consecrated\ntradition, which is kept up mainly by ecclesiastical institutions. These\nprobably prevent many rash experiments from being tried, especially in\nthe field of morals. Even writers like Dr. Frazer insist on the immense\nservices which consecrated tradition still renders to humanity. These\nclaims may be admitted; but they come very far short of the\nglorification of institutionalism which we found in the authors quoted a\nfew pages back.\n\nThe institutionalist, however, may reply that he by no means admits the\nvalidity of Sabatier's antithesis between religions of authority and the\nreligion of the Spirit. His own religion, he believes, is quite as\nspiritual as that of the Protestant individualist. He may quote the fine\nsaying of a medieval mystic that he who can see the inward in the\noutward is more spiritual than he who can only see the inward in the\ninward. We may, indeed, be thankful that we have not to choose between\ntwo mutually exclusive types of religion. The Quaker, whom we may take\nas the type of anti-institutional mysticism, has a brotherhood to which\nhe is proud to belong, and for which he feels loyalty and affection. And\nCatholicism has been rich in contemplative saints who have lived in the\nlight of the Divine presence. The question raised in this essay is\nrather of the relative importance of these two elements in the religious\nlife, than of choosing one and rejecting the other. I will conclude by\nsaying that our preference of one of these types to the other will be\nlargely determined by our attitude towards history. I am glad to see\nthat Professor Bosanquet, in his fine Gifford Lectures, has the courage\nto expose the limitations of the 'historical method,' now so popular. He\nprotests against Professor Ward's dictum that 'the actual is wholly\nhistorical,' as a view little better than naive realism. History, he\nsays, is a hybrid form of experience, incapable of any considerable\ndegree of being or trueness. It is a fragmentary diorama of finite\nlife-processes seen from the outside, and very imperfectly known. It\nconsists largely of assigning parts in some great world-experience to\nparticular actors--a highly speculative enterprise. To set these\ncontingent and dubious constructions above the operations of pure\nthought and pure insight is indeed a return to the philosophy of the man\nin the street. 'Social morality, art, philosophy, and religion take us\nfar beyond the spatio-temporal externality of history; these are\nconcrete and necessary living worlds, and in them the finite mind begins\nto experience something of what individuality must ultimately mean.' Our\ninquiry has thus led us to the threshold of one of the fundamental\nproblems of philosophy--the value and reality of time. For the\ninstitutionalist, happenings in time have a meaning and importance far\ngreater than the mystic is willing to allow to them. Like most other\ngreat philosophical problems, this question is largely one of\ntemperament. Christianity has found room for both types. I believe,\nhowever, that the aberrations or exaggerations of institutionalism have\nbeen, and are, more dangerous, and further removed from the spirit of\nChristianity than those of mysticism, and that we must look to the\nlatter type, rather than to the former, to give life to the next\nreligious revival.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [90] Moore, _Science and the Faith_, Introduction.\n\n     [91] Troeltsch, _Die Bedeutung der Geschichtlichkeit Jesu\n     fuer den Glauben,_ pp. 25 _sq_.\n\n     [92] Royce, _The Problem of Christianity_, vol. i. 39.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INDICTMENT AGAINST CHRISTIANITY\n\n(1917)\n\n\nNo thinking man can deny that this war has grievously stained the\nreputation of Europe. Even if the verdict of history confirms the\nopinion that the conspiracy which threw the torch into the\npowder-magazine was laid by a few persons in one or two countries, and\nthat the unparalleled outrages which have accompanied the conflict were\nordered by a small coterie of brutal officers, we cannot forget that\nthese crimes have been committed by the responsible representatives of a\ncivilised European power, and that the nation which they represent has\nshown no qualms of conscience. That such a calamity, the permanent\nresults of which include a holocaust of European wealth and credit,\naccumulated during a century of unprecedented industry and ingenuity,\nthe loss of innumerable lives, and the destruction of all the old and\nhonourable conventions which have hitherto regulated the intercourse of\ncivilised nations with each other, in war as well as in peace, should\nhave been possible, is justly felt to be a reproach to the whole\ncontinent, and especially to the nations which have taken the lead in\nits civilisation and culture. The ancient races of Asia, which have\nnever admitted the moral superiority of the West, are keenly interested\nspectators of our suicidal frenzy. A Japanese is reported to have said,\n'We have only to wait a little longer, till Europe has completed her\n_hara kiri_.' This is, indeed, what any intelligent observer must think\nabout the present struggle. Just as the feudal barons of England\ndestroyed each other and brought the feudal system to an end in the\nWars of the Roses, so the great industrial nations are rending to pieces\nthe whole fabric of modern industrialism, which can never be\nreconstructed. Mr. Norman Angell was perfectly right in his argument\nthat a European war would be ruinous to both sides. The material objects\nat stake, such as the control of the Turkish Empire and the African\ncontinent, are not worth more than an insignificant fraction of the\nwar-bill. We are witnessing the suicide of a social order, and our\ndescendants will marvel at our madness, as we marvel at the senseless\nwars of the past.\n\nThere has, it is plain, been something fundamentally wrong with European\ncivilisation, and the disease appears to be a moral one. With this\nconviction it is natural that men should turn upon the official\ncustodians of religion and morality, and ask them whether they have been\nunfaithful to their trust, or whether it is not rather proved that the\nfaith which they profess is itself bankrupt and incapable of exerting\nany salutary influence upon human character and action. Christianity\nstands arraigned at the bar of public opinion. But it is not without\nsignificance that the indictment should now be urged with a vehemence\nwhich we do not find in the records of former convulsions. It was not\ngenerally felt to be a scandal to Christianity that England was at war\nfor 69 years out of the 120 which preceded the battle of Waterloo.\nEither our generation expected more from Christianity, or it was far\nmore shocked by the sudden outbreak of this fierce war than our\nancestors were by the almost chronic condition of desultory campaigning\nto which they were accustomed. The latter is probably the true reason.\nThe belief in progress, which at the beginning of the industrial\nrevolution was an article of faith, had become a tacitly accepted\npresupposition of all serious thought; and even those who were dubious\nabout the moral improvement of mankind in other directions, seldom\ndenied that we were more humane and peaceable than our forefathers. The\ndisillusion has struck our self-complacency in its most vital spot.\nNothing in our own experience had prepared us for the hideous savagery\nand vandalism of German warfare, the first accounts of which we\nreceived with blank amazement and incredulity. Then, when disbelief was\nno longer possible, there awoke within us a sense of fear for our homes\nand women and children--feeling to which modern civilised man had long\nbeen a stranger. We had not supposed that the non-combatant population\nof any European country would ever again be exposed to the horrors of\nsavage warfare. This, much more than the war itself, has made thousands\nfeel that the house of civilisation is built upon the sand, and that\nChristianity has failed to subdue the most barbarous instincts of human\nnature. Christians cannot regret that the flagrant contradiction between\nthe principles of their creed and the scenes that have been enacted\nduring the last three years is fully recognised. But the often repeated\nstatement that 'Christianity has failed' needs more examination than it\nusually receives from those who utter it.\n\nHistory acquaints us with two kinds of religion, which, though they are\nnot entirely separate from each other, differ very widely in their\neffects upon conduct and morality. The _religio_ which Lucretius hated,\nand from which he strangely hoped that the atomistic materialism of\nEpicurus had finally delivered mankind, has its roots in the sombre and\nconfused superstitions of the savage. Fear, as Statius and Petronius\ntell us, created the gods of this religion. These deities are mysterious\nand capricious powers, who exact vengeance for the transgression of\narbitrary laws which they have not revealed, and who must be propitiated\nby public sacrifice, lest some collective punishment fall on the tribe,\nblighting its crops and smiting its herds with murrain, or giving it\nover into the hand of its enemies. This religion makes very little\nattempt to correct the current standard of values. Its rewards are\nwealth and prosperity; its punishments are calamity in this world and\nperhaps torture in the next. It is not, however, incapable of\nmoralisation. The wrath of heaven may visit not the innocent violation\nof some _tabu_, but cruelty and injustice. In the historical books of\nthe Old Testament, though Uzzah is stricken dead for touching the ark,\nand the subjects of King David afflicted with pestilence because their\nruler took a census of his people, Jehovah is above all things a\nrighteous God, who punishes bloodshed, adultery, and social oppression.\nSo in Greece the Furies pursue the homicide and the perjurer, till the\nname of his family is clean put out. Herodotus tells us how the family\nof Glaucus was extinguished because he consulted the oracle of Delphi\nabout an act of embezzlement which he was meditating.\n\nInternational law was protected by the same fear of divine vengeance.\nThe murder of heralds must by all means be expiated. When the Romans\nrepudiate their 'scrap of paper' with the Samnites, they deliver up to\nthe enemy the officers who signed it, though (with characteristic\n'slimness') not the army which the mountaineers had captured and\nliberated under the agreement. To destroy the temples in an enemy's\ncountry was an act of wanton impiety; Herodotus cannot understand the\nreligious intolerance which led the Persians to burn the shrines of\nGreek gods. Thus religion had a restraining influence in war throughout\nantiquity, and in the Middle Ages. The Pope, who was believed to hold\nthe keys of future bliss and torment, was frequently, though by no means\nalways, obeyed by the turbulent feudal lords, and often enforced the\nsanctity of a contract by the threat or the imposition of\nexcommunication and interdict. In order to make these penalties more\nterrible, the torments of those who died under the displeasure of the\nChurch were painted in the most vivid colours. But in the official and\npopular Christian eschatology, as in the terrestrial theodicy of the Old\nTestament, there is little or no moral idealism. The joys or pains of\nthe future life are made to depend, in part at least, on the observance\nor violation of the moral law, but they are themselves of a kind which\nthe natural man would desire or dread. They are an enhanced, because a\ndeferred, retribution of the same kind which in more primitive religions\npromises earthly prosperity to the righteous, and earthly calamities to\nthe wicked. Values, positive and negative, are taken nearly as they\nstand in the estimation of the average man.\n\nBut there is another religious tradition, which in Greece was almost\nseparated from the official and national cults, and among the Hebrews\nwas often in opposition to them. The Hebrew prophets certainly\nproclaimed that 'the history of the world is the judgment of the world,'\nand often assumed, too crudely as it seems to us, that national\ncalamities are a proof of national transgression; but the whole course\nof development in prophecy was towards an autonomous morality based on a\nspiritual valuation of life. Its quarrel with sacerdotalism was mainly\ndirected against the unethical _tabu_-morality of the priesthood; the\nrevolt was grounded in a lofty moral idealism, which found expression in\na half-symbolic vision of a coming state in which might and right should\ncoincide. The apocalyptic prophecies of post-exilic Judaism, which were\nnot based, like some political predictions of the earlier prophets, on a\nstatesmanlike view of the international situation, but on hopes of\nsupernatural intervention, had their roots in visions of a new and\nbetter world-order. This aspiration, which had to disentangle itself by\ndegrees from the patriotic dreams of a stubborn and unfortunate race,\nwas projected into the near future, and was mixed with less worthy\npolitical ambitions which had a different origin. The prophet always\nforeshortens his revelation, and generally blends the city of God with a\nvision of his own country transfigured. We see him doing this even\nto-day, in his Utopian dreams of social reconstruction.\n\nAnd so it has always been. We remember Condorcet foretelling a reign of\ntruth and peace just before he was compelled to flee from the storm of\ncalumny to die in a damp cell at Bourg la Reine; and Kant hailing the\napproach of a peaceful international republic while Napoleon was\npreparing to drown Europe in blood. Apocalyptism is a compromise between\nthe religion of rewards and punishments and the religion of spiritual\ndeliverance. It calls a new world into existence to redress the balance\nof the old; but its discontent with the old is mainly the result of a\nmoral and spiritual valuation of life. Greek philosophy has really much\nin common with Hebrew prophecy, though the Greek envisaged his ideal\nworld as the eternal background of reality, and not under the form of\nhistory. In its maturest form, it is a transvaluation of all values in\naccordance with an absolute ideal standard--that of the Good, the True,\nand the Beautiful. This idealism appears in a still more drastic form in\nthe religions of Asia, which preach deliverance by demonetising at a\nstroke all the world's currency. Spiritual values are alone accepted;\nman wins peace and freedom by renouncing in advance all of which fortune\nmay deprive him.\n\nWe are apt to assume, in deference to our theories of human progress,\nthat the evolution of religion is normally from a lower to a higher\ntype. It would, indeed, be absurd to question that the religion of a\ncivilised people is usually more spiritual and more rational than that\nof barbarians. But none the less, the history of religions is generally\na history of decline. In Judaism the prophets came before the Scribes\nand the Pharisees. Brahmanism and Buddhism were both degraded by\nsuperstitions and unethical rites. Christianity, which began as a\nrepublication of the purest prophetic teaching, has suffered the same\nfate. In each case, when the revelation has lost its freshness, and the\nenthusiasm which it evoked has begun to cool, a reversion to older\nhabits of thought and customs takes place; and sometimes it may be said\nthat the old religion has really conquered the new.\n\nChristianity, as taught by its Founder, is based on a transvaluation of\nvalues even more complete than that of Stoicism and the later Platonism,\nbecause, while it regards the objects of ordinary ambition as a positive\nhindrance to the higher life, it accepts and gives value to those pains\nof sympathy which Greek thought dreaded, as detracting from the calm\nenjoyment of the philosophic life. This acceptance of the world's\nsuffering, from which every other spiritual religion and philosophy\npromise a way of escape, is perhaps the most distinctive feature of\nChristian ethics. In practice, it thus achieves a more complete conquest\nof evil than any other system; and by bringing sorrow and sympathy into\nthe Divine life, it not only presents the character and nature of the\nDeity in a new light, but opens out a new ideal of moral perfection.\nThis is not the place for a discussion of the main characteristics of\nthe Gospel of Christ, and they are familiar to us all. But, since we are\nnow considering the charge of failure brought against Christianity in\nconnexion with the present world-war, it seems necessary to emphasise\ntwo points which are not always remembered.\n\nThe first is that there is no evidence that the historical Christ ever\nintended to found a new institutional religion. He neither attempted to\nmake a schism in the Jewish Church nor to substitute a new system for\nit. He placed Himself deliberately in the prophetic line, only claiming\nto sum up the series in Himself. The whole manner of His life and\nteaching was prophetic. The differences which undoubtedly may be found\nbetween His style and that of the older prophets do not remove Him from\nthe company in which He clearly wished to stand. He treated the\ninstitutional religion of His people with the independence and\nindifference of the prophet and mystic; and the hierarchy, which, like\nother hierarchies, had a sure instinct in discerning a dangerous enemy,\nwas not slow to declare war to the knife against Him. Such, He reminded\nHis enemies, was the treatment which all the prophets had met with from\nthe class to which those enemies belonged. This, then, is the first fact\nto remember. Institutional Christianity may be a legitimate and\nnecessary historical development from the original Gospel, but it is\nsomething alien to the Gospel itself. The first disciples believed that\nthey had the Master's authority for expecting the end of the existing\nworld-order in their own lifetime. They believed that He had come\nforward with the cry of 'Hora novissima!' Whether they misunderstood Him\nor not, they clearly could not have held this opinion if they had\nreceived instructions for the constitution of a Church.\n\nThe second point on which it is necessary to insist is that Christ never\nexpected, or taught His disciples to expect, that His teaching would\nmeet with wide acceptance, or exercise political influence. 'The\nworld'--organised human society--was the enemy and was to continue the\nenemy. His message, He foresaw, would be scorned and rejected by the\nmajority; and those who preached it were to expect persecution. This\nwarning is repeated so often in the Gospels that it would be superfluous\nto give quotations. He made it quite plain that the big battalions are\nnever likely to be gathered before the narrow gate. He declared that\nonly false prophets are well spoken of by the majority. When we consider\nthe revolutionary character of the Christian idealism, its indifference\nto nearly all that passes for 'religion' with the vulgar, and its\nreversal of all current valuations, it is plain that it is never likely\nto be a popular creed. As surely as the presence of high spiritual\ninstincts in the human mind guarantees its indestructibility, so surely\nthe deeply-rooted prejudices which keep the majority on a lower level\nmust prevent the Gospel of Christ from dominating mundane politics or\nsocial life.\n\nMoreover, the actual extent of its influence cannot be estimated. The\ninwardness and individualism of its teaching make its apparent\neffectiveness smaller than its real power, which works secretly and\nunobserved. The vices which Christ regarded with abhorrence are\nperversions of character--hypocrisy, hard-heartedness, and worldliness\nor secularity; and who can say what degree of success the Gospel has\nachieved in combating these? The method of Christianity is alien to all\nexternalism and machinery; it does not lend itself to those\naccommodations and compromises without which nothing can be done in\npolitics. As Harnack says, the Gospel is not one of social improvement,\nbut of spiritual redemption. Its influence upon social and political\nlife is indirect and obscure, operating through a subtle modification of\ncurrent valuations, and curbing the competitive and acquisitive\ninstincts, which nearly correspond with what Christ called 'Mammon' and\nSt. Paul 'the flesh.' Christianity is a spiritual dynamic, which has\nvery little to do directly with the mechanism of social life.\n\nIt is, therefore, certain that when we speak of Christianity as a\nfactor in human life, we must not identify it with the opinions or\nactions of the multitudes who are nominally Christians. We must not even\nidentify it, without qualification, with the types of character\nexhibited by those who try to frame their lives in accordance with its\nprecepts. For these types are very largely determined by the ideals\nwhich belong to the stage through which the life of the race is passing;\nand these differ so widely in different ages and countries that the\nhistorian of religion might well despair if he was compelled to regard\nthem all as typical manifestations of the same idea. There are times\nwhen the disciple of Christ seems to turn his back upon society; he is\noccupied solely with the relation of the individual soul to God. These\nare periods when the opportunities for social service are much\nrestricted by a faulty structure of the body politic; periods when\nsecular civilisation is so brutal, or so servile, that the religious\nlife can only be led in seclusion from it. At another time the typical\nChristian seems to be the active and valiant soldier of a militant\ncorporation. At another, again, he is a philanthropist, who devotes his\nlife to the redress of some great wrong, such as slavery, or the\npromotion of a more righteous system of production and distribution. In\nall these types we can trace the operation of the genius of\nChristianity, but they are partial manifestations of it, with much alien\nadmixture. The spirit of the age, as well as the spirit of Christ, has\nmoulded the various types of Christian piety.\n\nIf there has ever been a time when organised Christianity was a concrete\nembodiment of the pure principles of the Gospel, we must look for it in\nthe era of the persecutions, when the Church had already gained\ncoherence and discipline and a corporate self-consciousness, and was\nstill preserved from the corrupting influence of secularity by the\ndanger which attended the profession of an illicit creed. A vivid\npicture of the Christian communities at this period has been given by\nDobschuetz, whose learning and impartiality are unimpeachable. The Church\nat this time demanded from its followers an unreserved confession, even\nwhen this meant death. It was a brotherhood within which there was no\nprivileged class. Men and women, the free and the slave, had an equal\nshare in it. It abolished the fundamental Greek distinction of civilised\nand barbarian. It looked with contempt on none. Its great organisation\nwas spread by purely voluntary means, till it gained a firm footing\nthroughout the Empire and beyond it. To a large extent it was an\nassociation for mutual aid. Wherever anyone was in need, help was at\nhand. The tangible advantages of belonging to such a guild were so great\nthat the Church had to enforce labour on all who could work, as a\ncondition of sharing in the benefits of membership. Social distinctions,\nsuch as those of rich and poor, master and slave, were not abolished,\nbut they had lost their sting, because genuine affection, loyalty and\nsympathy neutralised these inequalities. Great importance was laid on\ntruth, integrity in business, and sexual purity. A complete rupture with\npagan standards of morality was insisted on from new members. The human\nbody must be kept holy, as the temple of God. Revenge was forbidden, and\ninjustice was endured with meekness and pardon. This is no imaginary\npicture. In that brief golden age of the Church, such were indeed the\ncharacteristics of the Christian society. In the opinion of Dobschuetz\nthe moral condition of the Church in the second century was much higher\nthan among St. Paul's converts in the first. The paucity of references\nto sins of the flesh, and to fraud, is to be accounted for by the actual\nrarity of such offences. For a short time, then, the artificial\nselection effected by the persecutions kept the Church pure; and from\nthe happy pictures which we can reconstruct of this period we can judge\nwhat a really Christian society would be like.\n\nThe history of institutional Catholicism must be approached from a\ndifferent side. Troeltsch argues with much cogency that the Catholic\nChurch must be regarded rather as the last creative achievement of\nclassical antiquity than as the beginning of the Middle Ages. Its growth\nbelongs mainly to the political history of Europe; the strictly\nreligious element in it is quite subordinate. There is, as Modernist\ncritics have seen, a real break between the Palestinian Gospel and the\nelaborate mystery-religion, with its graded hierarchy, its Roman\norganisation, its Hellenistic speculative theology, which achieved the\nconquest of the Empire in the fourth century. The Church, as Loisy says,\ndetermined to survive and to conquer, and adapted itself to the demands\nof the time. It has travelled far from the simple teaching of the\nearthly Christ; though we may, if we choose, hold that His spirit\ncontinued to direct the growing and changing institution which, as a\nmatter of history, had its source in the Galilean ministry. In truth,\nhowever, the extremely efficient organisation of the Roman Church began\nin self-defence and was continued for conquest. It is one of the\nstrongest of all human institutions, so that it was said before the war\nthat it is one of the 'three invincibles,' the other two being the\nGerman Army and the Standard Oil Trust.\n\nBut our admiration for the subtle and tenacious power of this\ncorporation must not blind us to its essentially political character.\nIts policy has been always directed to self-preservation and\naggrandisement; it is an _imperium in imperio_, which has only checked\nfanatical nationalism by the competing influence of a still more\nfanatical partisanship. In the present war, the problem before the\nPope's councillors was whether the friendship of the Central Powers or\nthat of the Entente was best worth cultivating; and the unshaken loyalty\nof Austria to the Church, together with a natural preference for German\nmethods of governing as compared with democracy, turned the scale\nagainst us. In Ireland, in Canada and in Spain the Catholic priests have\nbeen formidable enemies of our cause. As for the other Churches, they\nhave not the same power of arbitrating in national quarrels. The Russian\nChurch has never been independent of the secular government; and the\nAnglican and Lutheran Churches can hardly be expected to be impartial\nwhen the vital interests of England or Germany are at stake. Lovers of\npeace have not much to hope for from organised religion. National\nChristianity, as Mr. Bernard Shaw says, will only be possible when we\nhave a nation of Christs.\n\nThe downfall of the medieval European system, though in truth it was a\ntheory rather than a fact, has removed some of the restraints upon war.\nThe determining principle of the medieval political theory was the\nconception of a 'lex Dei,' which included the 'lex Mosis,' the 'lex\nChristi,' and the 'lex ecclesiae,' but which also, as 'lex naturae,'\ncomprised the law, science, and ethics of antiquity. These laws were\nsuper-national, and no nation dared explicitly to repudiate them. They\nformed the basis of a real system of international law, resting, like\neverything else in the Middle Ages, on supposed divine authority.\n\nThis theory, with its sanctions, was shattered at the Renaissance; and\nthe Machiavellian doctrine of the absolute State, accepted by Bacon and\nput into practice by Frederick the Great, has prevailed ever since,\nthough not without frequent protests. The rise of nationalities, each\nwith an intense self-consciousness, has facilitated the adoption of a\ntheory too grossly immoral to have found favour except in the peculiar\ncircumstances of modern civilisation. The emergence of nationalities was\noften connected with a legitimate struggle for freedom; and at such\ntimes _esprit de corps_ seems to be almost the sum of morality, the\nsubstitute for all other virtues. Loyalty is one of the most attractive\nof moral qualities, and it necessarily inhibits criticism of its own\nobjects, which has the appearance of treason. But, unless the aims of\nthe corporate body which claims our absolute allegiance are right and\nreasonable, loyalty may be, and often has been, the parent of hideous\ncrimes, and a social evil of the first magnitude. The perversion of\n_esprit de corps_ does incalculable harm in every direction, destroying\nall sense of honour and justice, of chivalry and generosity, of sympathy\nand humanity. It involves a complete repudiation of Christianity, which\nbreaks down all barriers by ignoring them, and insists on love and\njustice towards all mankind without distinction. The worship of the\nState has during the last half-century been sedulously and artificially\nfostered in Germany, until it has produced a kind of moral insanity.\nEven philosophical historians like Troeltsch seem unable to see the\nmonstrosity of a political doctrine which has caused his country to be\njustly regarded as the enemy of the whole human race. Eucken, writing\nsome years before the war, in a rather gingerly manner deprecates\n_Politismus_ as a national danger; but he does not dare to grasp the\nnettle firmly. It is possible that this deification of the State in\nGermany may be in part due to an unsatisfied instinct of worship. In\nRoman Catholic countries, where there must be a divided allegiance,\npatriotism never, perhaps, assumes such sinister and fanatical forms.\n\nBut we shall not understand the attraction which this naked immoralism\nin international affairs exercises over the minds of many who are not\notherwise ignoble, if we do not remember that the repudiation of the\nChristian ethical standard has been equally thorough in commercial\ncompetition. The German officer believes himself to have chosen a\nmorally nobler profession than that of the business-man; he serves (he\nthinks) a larger cause, and he is content with much less personal\nreward. Socialist assailants of our industrial system, much as they\ndislike war, would probably agree with him. It is not necessary to\ncondemn all competition. The desire to excel others is not\nreprehensible, when the rivalry is in rendering useful social service.\nBut it cannot be denied that the present condition of industry is such\nthat a heavy premium is offered to mere cupidity; that the fraternal\nsocial life which Christianity enjoins is often literally impossible,\nexcept at the cost of economic suicide; and that in a competitive system\na business man is, by the very force of circumstances, a warrior, though\nwar is an enemy of love and destructive of Christian society. When the\nobject of bargaining is to give as little and gain as much as possible,\nthe Christian standard of values has been rejected as completely as it\nwas by Machiavelli himself. The competition between two parties to a\nbargain is often a competition in unserviceableness. Money is very\nfrequently made by creating a local and temporary monopoly, which\nenables the vendor to squeeze the purchaser. In all such transactions\none man's gain is another man's loss. This state of things, the evils of\nwhich are almost universally recognised and deplored, marks the end of\nthe glorification of productive industry which was one result of the\nReformation.\n\nHardly anything distinguishes modern from medieval ethics more sharply\nthan the emphasis laid by Protestant morality on the duty of making and\nproducing something tangible. Theoretically the Protestant may hold that\n'doing ends in death,' and he may sing these words on Sunday; but his\nwhole life on week days is occupied in strenuous 'doing.' We find in\nCalvinism and Quakerism the genuinely religious basis of the modern\nbusiness life, which, however, has degenerated sadly, now that the\nlargest fortunes are made by dealing in money rather than in\ncommodities. In the books of Samuel Smiles, and in Clough's poem\nbeginning 'Hope ever more and believe, O Man,' we find the Gospel of\nproductive work preached with fervour. It is out of favour now in\nEngland; but in America we still see quaint attempts to make business a\nreligion, as in the Middle Ages religion was a business. In these\ncircles, it is productive activity as such to which value is attached,\nwithout much enquiry as to the utility of the product. The result has\nbeen an immense accumulation of the apparatus of life, without any\ncorresponding elevation in moral standards. The mischiefs wrought by\nmodern commercialism are largely the fruit of the purely irrational\nproduction which it encourages. There are, says Professor Santayana,\nNibelungen who toil underground over a gold which they will never use,\nand in their obsession with production begrudge themselves all\ninclinations to recreation, to merriment, to fancy. Visible signs of\nsuch unreason appear in the relentless and hideous aspect which life\nputs on; for those instruments which emancipate themselves from their\nuses soon become hateful. 'A barbaric civilisation, built on blind\nimpulse and ambition, should fear to awaken a deeper detestation than\ncould ever be aroused by those more beautiful tyrannies, chivalrous or\nreligious, against which past revolutions have been directed.' We\ncannot, indeed, be surprised that this ideal of productive work as a\nmeans of grace, precious for its own sake, has no attraction for the\nmasses, and that independent thinkers like Edward Carpenter should write\nbooks on 'Civilisation, its Cause and Cure.'\n\nThis Puritan ideal is not so much unchristian as narrow and\nunintelligent; but the money-making life has of late become more and\nmore frankly predatory and anti-social. The great trusts, and the arts\nof the company-promoter, can hardly be said to perform any social\nservice; they exist to levy tribute on the public. We may say therefore\nthat, though war between the leading nations of the world had become a\nstrange idea and a far-off memory, we had by no means risen above the\nprinciples and practices of war in our internal life. The immunity from\nmilitarism hitherto enjoyed by Britain and the United States was a\nfortunate accident, not a proof of higher morality. Our fleet protected\nboth ourselves and the Americans from the necessity of maintaining a\nconscript army; but we had drifted into a condition in which civil war\nseemed not to be far off, and in which violence and lawlessness were\nincreasing. By a strange inconsistency, many who on moral or religious\ngrounds condemned wars between nations were found to condone or justify\nacts of war against the State, organised by discontented factions of its\ncitizens. Revolutionary strikes, prepared long in advance by forced\nlevies of money which were candidly called war-funds, had as their\navowed aim the paralysis of the industries of the country and the\nreduction of the population to distress by withholding the necessaries\nof life. These acts of civil war, and disgraceful outbreaks of criminal\nanarchism, were justified by persons who professed a conscientious\nobjection to defending their homes and families against a foreign\ninvader. This state of mind proves how little essential connexion there\nis between democracy and peace. It discloses a confusion of ideas even\ngreater than the antithesis between industrialism and militarism in the\nwritings of Herbert Spencer. On this latter fallacy it is enough to\nquote the words of Admiral Mahan; 'As far as the advocacy of peace rests\non material motives like economy and prosperity, it is the service of\nMammon; and the bottom of the platform will drop out when Mammon thinks\nthat war will pay better.' This is notoriously what has happened in\nGermany. A short war, with huge indemnities, seemed to German financiers\na promising speculation. If such were the rotten foundations upon which\nanti-militarism in this country was based, the Churches cannot be blamed\nfor giving the peace-movement a rather lukewarm support.\n\nIn Germany there was no internal anarchy, such as prevailed in England;\nthere was also no illusion about the imminence of war. Our politicians\nought to have read the signs of the times better; but they were too\nintent on feeling the pulse of the electorate at home to attend to\ndisturbing and unwelcome symptoms abroad. The causes of the war are not\ndifficult to determine. War has long been a national industry of\nGermany, and the idea of it evoked no moral repugnance. The military\nvirtues were extolled; the military profession enjoyed an astonishing\nsocial prestige; the learned class proclaimed the biological necessity\nof international conflicts. The army believed itself to be invincible,\nand it had begun to control the policy of the country; where these two\nconditions exist, no diplomacy can avert war. Professionalism always has\na selfish and anti-social element in its code, and the professionalism\nof the soldier is always prone to override the rights and disdain the\nscruples of civilians.\n\nThe dominant classes in Germany also found that their power was being\nundermined by the growing industrialisation. The steady increase in the\nsocial-democratic vote was a portent not to be disregarded. A letter\nfrom a German officer to a friend in Roumania, which found its way into\nthe newspapers, tells a great deal of truth in a few words. 'You cannot\nconceive,' he wrote, 'what difficulty we had in persuading our Emperor\nthat it was necessary to let loose this war. But it has been done; and I\nhope that for a long time to come we shall hear no more in Germany of\npacifism, internationalism, democracy, and similar pestilent doctrines.'\nSir Charles Walston, in his thoughtful book 'Aristodemocracy,' lays\ngreat stress on this. 'It appeared to me,' he says, 'ever since 1905,\nthat in the immediate future it was all a question as to whether the\nlabour-men, the practical pacifists, would arrive at the realisation of\ntheir power before the militarists had forced a war upon us, or whether\nthe military powers would anticipate this result, and within the next\nfew years force a war upon the world.' To the influence of the military\nwas added the cupidity of the commercial and financial class. The law of\ndiminishing returns was driving capital further and further afield; and\nlarge profits, it was hoped, might be made by the exploitation of\nbackward countries and the reduction of their inhabitants to serfdom. To\na predatory and parasitic class war seems only a logical extension of\nthe principles upon which it habitually acts; and for this reason\nprivileged orders seldom feel much moral compunction about a war-policy.\nLastly, among the causes of the war must be reckoned one which has\nreceived far too little attention from social and political\nphilosophers--the tenacious and half-unconscious memories of a race.\nInjustice comes home to roost, sometimes after an astonishingly long\ninterval. The disaffection of Catholic Ireland would be quite\nunintelligible without the massacres of the sixteenth century and the\nunjust trade-legislation of the seventeenth and eighteenth. The\nbitterness of the working class in England has its roots in the earlier\nperiod of the industrial revolution (about 1760-1832), when the\nlabourer, with his wife and children, was treated as the 'cannon-fodder'\nof industry. Similarly, the seeds of Prussian brutality and\naggressiveness were sown at Jena and in the raiding of Prussia for\nrecruits before the Moscow expedition. If such were the causes of the\ngreat world-war, how little can be hoped from courts of international\narbitration!\n\nThese considerations have, perhaps, made it clear that the main causes\nof international conflicts are what the Epistle of St. James declares\nthem to be--'the lusts that war in your members,' the pugnacious and\nacquisitive instincts which pervade our social life in times of peace,\nand not least in those nations which pride themselves on having advanced\nbeyond the militant stage. There are some who accept this state of\nthings as natural and necessary, and who blame Christianity for carrying\non a futile campaign against human nature. This is a very different\nindictment from that which condemns Christianity for tolerating a\npreventible evil; and it is, in our opinion, even less justified. The\nargument that, because war has always existed, it must always continue\nto exist, is justly ridiculed by Mr. Norman Angell. 'It is commonly\nasserted that old habits of thought can never be shaken; that, as men\nhave been, so they will be. That, of course, is why we now eat our\nenemies, enslave their children, examine witnesses with the thumbscrew,\nand burn those who do not attend the same church.'\n\nThe long history of war as a racial habit explains why a ruinous and\ninsane anachronism shows such tenacity; for the conditions which\nestablished the habit among primitive tribes demonstrably no longer\nexist. It is probably true, as William James says, that 'militarist\nwriters without exception regard war as a biological or sociological\nnecessity'; lawyers might say the same about litigation. But laws of\nnature 'are not efficient causes, and it is open to any one to prove\nthat they are not laws, if he can break them with impunity. It would be\nthe height of pessimistic fatalism to hold that men must always go on\ndoing that which they hate, and which brings them to misery and ruin.\nMan is not bound for ever by habits contracted during his racial nonage;\nhis moral, rational, and spiritual instincts are as natural as his\nphysical appetites; and against them, as St. Paul says, 'there is no\nlaw,' Huxley's Romanes Lecture gave an unfortunate support to the\nmischievous notion that the 'cosmic process' is the enemy of morality.\nThe truth seems to be that Nature presents to us not a categorical\nimperative, but a choice. Do we prefer to pay our way in the world, or\nto be parasites? War, with very few exceptions, is a mode of parasitism.\nIts object is to exploit the labour of other nations, to make them pay\ntribute, or to plunder them openly, as the Germans have plundered the\ncities of Belgium. War is a parasitic industry; and Christianity forbids\nparasitism. Nature has her own penalties for the lower animals which\nmake this choice, and they strike with equal severity 'the peoples that\ndelight in war,' The bellicose nations have nearly all perished.\n\nThere remains, however, a class of wars which escapes this\ncondemnation; and about them difficult moral problems may be raised. We\ncan hardly deny to a growing and civilised nation the right to expand at\nthe expense of barbarous hunters and nomads. No one would suggest that\nthe Americans ought to give back their country to the Indians, or that\nAustralia should be abandoned to the aborigines. But were the\nAnglo-Saxons justified in expropriating the Britons, and the Spaniards\nthe Aztecs? There is room for differences of opinion in these cases; and\na very serious problem may arise in the future, as to whether the\nEuropean races are morally justified in using armed force to restrict\nAsiatic competition. As a general principle, we must condemn the\nexpropriation of any nation which is in effective occupation of the\nsoil. The popular estimate of superior and inferior races is thoroughly\nunchristian and unscientific, as is the prejudice against a dark skin.\nThe opinion that a nation which is increasing in population has a right\nto expel the inhabitants of another country to make room for its own\nemigrants is surely untenable. If it justifies war at all, it sanctions\na war of extermination, which would attain its objects most completely\nby massacring girls and young women. The pressure of population is a\nreal cause of war; but the moral is, not that war is right, but that a\nnation must cut its coat according to its cloth, and limit its numbers.\n\nUnless we justify wars of extermination, war has no biological sanction,\nand Christianity is not flying in the face of nature by condemning it.\nOn the contrary, by condemning every form of parasitism, it indicates\nthe true path of evolution. It is equally right in rejecting the purely\neconomic valuation of human goods. The 'economic man' does not exist in\nnature; he is a fictitious creature who is responsible for a great deal\nof social injustice. Some modern economists, like Mr. Hobson, would\nsubstitute for the old monetary standards of production and distribution\nan attempt to estimate the 'human costs' of labour. Creative work\ninvolving ingenuity and artistic qualities is not 'costly' at all,\nunless the hours of labour, or the nervous strain, exceed the powers of\nthe worker. More monotonous work is not costly to the worker if the\nday's labour is fairly short, or if some variety can be introduced. The\nhuman cost is greatly increased if the worker thinks that his labour is\nuseless, or that it will only benefit those who do not deserve the\nenjoyment of its fruits. Work which only produces frivolous luxuries is\nand ought to be unwelcome to the producer, even if he is well paid. It\nmust also be emphasised that worry and anxiety take the heart out of a\nman more than anything else. Security of employment greatly reduces the\n'human cost' of labour. These considerations are comparatively new in\npolitical economy. They change it from a highly abstract science into a\nstudy of the conditions of human welfare as affected by social\norganisation. The change is a victory for the ideas of Buskin and\nMorris, though not necessarily for the practical remedies for social\nmaladjustments which they propounded. It brings political economy into\nclose relations with ethics and religion, and should induce economists\nto consider carefully the contribution which Christianity makes to the\nsolution of the whole problem. For Christianity has its remedy to\npropose, and it is a solution of the problem of war, not less than of\nindustrial evils.\n\nChristianity gives the world a new and characteristic standard of\nvalues. It diminishes greatly the values which can accrue from\ncompetition, and enhances immeasurably the non-competitive values. 'A\nman's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he\npossesseth.' 'Is not the life more than meat, and the body than\nraiment?' 'The Kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness\nand peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.' Passages like these are found in\nevery part of the New Testament. This Christian idealism has a direct\nbearing on the doctrine of 'human costs.' Work is irksome, not only when\nit is excessive or ill-paid, but when the worker is lazy, selfish,\nenvious or discontented. There is one thing which can make almost any\nwork welcome. If it is done from love or unselfish affection, the human\ncost is almost _nil_, because it is not counted or consciously felt.\nThis is no exaggeration when it is applied to the devoted labour of the\nmother and the nurse, or to that of the evangelist conscious of a divine\nvocation. But in all useful work the keen desire to render social\nservice, or to do God's will, diminishes to an incalculable extent the\n'human cost' of labour. This principle introduces a deep cleavage\nbetween the Christian remedy and that of political socialism, which\nfosters discontent and indignation as a lever for social amelioration.\nMen are made unhappy in order that they may be urged to claim a larger\nshare of the world's wealth. Christianity considers that, measured by\nhuman costs, the remedy is worse than the disease. The adoption of a\ntruer standard of value would tear up the lust of accumulation by the\nroots, and would thus effect a real cure. It would also stop the\ngrudging and deliberately bad work which at present seriously diminishes\nthe national wealth.\n\nThe Christian cure is the only real cure. It is the fashion to assume\nthat militarism and cupidity are vices of the privileged classes, and\nthat democracies may be trusted neither to plunder the minority at home\nnor to seek foreign adventures by unjust wars. There is not the\nslightest reason to accept either of these views. Political power is\nalways abused; an unrepresented class is always plundered. Nor are\ndemocracies pacific, except by accident. At present they do not wish to\nsee the capital which they regard as their prospective prey dissipated\nin war; and for this reason their influence in our time will probably be\non the side of peace. But, as soon as the competition of cheap Asiatic\nlabour becomes acute, we may expect to see the democracies bellicose and\nthe employing class pacific. This is not guess-work; we already see how\nthe democracies of California and Australia behave towards immigrants\nfrom Asia. Readers of Anatole France will remember his description of\nthe economic wars decreed by the Senate of the great republic, at the\nend of 'L'Ile des Pingouins.' It would, indeed, be difficult to prove\nthat the expansion of the United States has differed much, in methods\nand morals, from that of the European monarchies; and the methods of\ntrade-unions are the methods of pitiless belligerency. Democracy and\nsocialism are broken reeds for the lover of peace to lean upon.\n\nIn conclusion, our answer to the indictment against Christianity is\nthat institutional religion does not represent the Gospel of Christ, but\nthe opinions of a mass of nominal Christians. It cannot be expected to\ndo much more than look after its own interests and reflect the moral\nideas of its supporters. The real Gospel, if it were accepted, would\npull up by the roots not only militarism but its analogue in civil life,\nthe desire to exploit other people for private gain. But it is not\naccepted. We have seen that the Founder of Christianity had no illusions\nas to the reception which His message of redemption would meet with. The\n'Prince of this World' is not Christ, but the Devil. Nevertheless, He\ndid speak of the 'whole lump' being gradually leavened, and we shall not\nexceed the limits of a reasonable and justifiable optimism if we hope\nthat the accumulated experience of humanity, and perhaps a real though\nvery slow modification for the better of human nature itself, may at\nlast eliminate the wickedest and most insane of our maleficent\ninstitutions. The human race has probably hundreds of thousands of years\nto live, whereas our so-called civilisation cannot be traced back for\nmore than a few thousand years. The time when 'nation shall not lift up\nsword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more,' will\nprobably come at last, though no one can predict what the conditions\nwill be which will make such a change possible.\n\nThe signs are not very favourable at present for internationalism. The\ngreat nations, bankrupt and honey-combed with social unrest, will be\nobliged after the war to organise themselves as units, with governments\nstrong enough to put down revolutions, and directed by men of the\nhighest mercantile ability, whose main function will be to increase\nproductiveness and stop waste. We may even see Germany mobilised as one\ngigantic trust for capturing markets and regulating prices. A\ncombination so formidable would compel other nations, and our own\ncertainly among the number, to adopt a similar organisation. This would,\nof course, mean a complete victory for bureaucratic state-socialism, and\nthe defeat of democracy and trade-union syndicalism. Such a change,\nwhich few would just now welcome, will occur if no other form of state\nis able to survive; and this is what we may live to see. But there is\nno finality about any experiments in government. A period of\ninternationalism may follow the intense nationalism which historical\ncritics foresee for the twentieth century. Or perhaps the international\nlabour-organisations may be too strong for the centralising forces. It\nis just possible that Labour, by a concerted movement during the violent\nreaction against militarism which will probably follow the war, will\nforbid any further military or naval preparations to be made.\n\nWhatever forms reconstruction may take, Christianity will have its part\nto play in making the new Europe. It will be able to point to the\nterrible vindication of its doctrines in the misery and ruin which have\novertaken a world which has rejected its valuations and scorned its\nprecepts. It is not Christianity which has been judged and condemned at\nthe bar of civilisation; it is civilisation which has destroyed itself\nbecause it has honoured Christ with its lips, while its heart has been\nfar from Him. But a spiritual religion can win a victory only within its\nown sphere. It can promise no Deuteronomic catalogue of blessings and\ncursings to those who obey or disobey its principles. Social happiness\nand peace would certainly follow a whole-hearted acceptance of Christian\nprinciples; but they would not certainly bring wealth or empire.\n'Philosophy,' said Hegel, 'will bake no man's bread'; and it is only in\na spiritual sense that the meek-spirited can expect to possess the\nearth. Nevertheless, it is a mistake to suppose that a Christian nation\nwould be unable to hold its own in the struggle for existence. A nation\nin which every citizen endeavoured to pay his way and to help his\nneighbour would be in no danger of servitude or extinction. The mills of\nGod grind slowly, but the future does not belong to lawless violence. In\nthe long run, the wisdom that is from above will be justified in her\nchildren.\n\n\n\n\nSURVIVAL AND IMMORTALITY\n\n(1917)\n\n\nThe recrudescence of superstition in England was plain to all observers\nmany years before the war; it was perhaps most noticeable among the\nhalf-educated rich. Several causes contributed to this phenomenon. The\ncraving for the supernatural, a very ancient and deeply rooted\nthought-habit, had been suppressed and driven underground by the\narrogant dominance of a materialistic philosophy, and by the absorption\nof society in the pursuit of gain and pleasure. Modern miracles were\nlaughed out of court. But materialism has supernaturalism for its\nnemesis. An abstract science, erecting itself into a false philosophy,\nleaves half our nature unsatisfied, and becomes morally bankrupt before\nits intellectual errors are exposed. Supernaturalism is the refuge of\nthe materialist who wishes to make room for ideal values without\nabandoning the presuppositions of materialism. By dovetailing acts of\nGod into the order of nature, he materialises the spiritual, but brings\nthe Divine will into the world of experience, from which it had been\nexpelled, and produces a rough scheme of providential government, by\nwhich he can live.\n\nThe revolt against scientific materialism was made much easier by the\ndisintegration of the mechanical theory itself. Biology found itself\ncramped by the categories of inorganic science, and claimed its\nautonomy. The result was a fatal breach in the defences of materialism,\nfor biology is being driven to accept final causes, and would be glad to\nadopt some theory of vitalism, if it could do so without falling back\ninto the old error of a mysterious 'vital force.' Biological truth, it\nis plain, cannot be reduced to the purely quantitative categories of\nmathematics and physics. Then psychology aspired to be a philosophy of\nreal existence, and attacked both absolutism and materialism. The\npretensions of psychology rehabilitated subjectivism and founded\npragmatism, till reactionary theology took heart of grace and defended\ncrude supernaturalism, with the whole apparatus of sacerdotal magic, as\nthe 'Gospel for human needs.' All protection against the grossest\nsuperstitions was thus swept away. With no fixed standard of reference\nto distinguish fact from fiction, it was possible to argue that\n'whatever suits souls is true.'\n\nIn this atmosphere many old habits of thought reasserted themselves.\nWhile we enjoyed peace and prosperity, the credulity of the public found\nits chief outlet in various systems of faith-healing and in the\ntime-honoured pretensions of priest-craft. But the devastation which the\nwar has brought into countless loving families has turned the current of\nsuperstition strongly towards necromancy. The 'will to believe,' no\nlonger inhibited and suspected as a reason for doubt, has been allowed\nto create its own logic. A few highly educated men, who have long been\nplaying with occultism and gratifying their intellectual curiosity by\nexploring the dark places of perverted mysticism, have been swept off\ntheir feet by it, and their authority, as 'men of science,' has\ndispelled the hesitation of many more to accept what they dearly wished\nto believe. The longing of the bereaved has created for itself a\nspurious and dreary satisfaction.\n\nOne cause of this strange movement cannot be emphasised too strongly. It\nproves that the Christian hope of immortality burns very dimly among us.\nThose who study the utterances of our religious guides must admit that\nit is so. References to the future life had, before the war, become rare\neven in the pulpit. The topic was mainly reserved for letters of\ncondolence, and was then handled gingerly, as if it would not bear much\npressure. Working-class audiences and congregations listened eagerly to\nthe wildest promises of an earthly utopia the day after tomorrow, but\ncooled down at once when they were reminded that 'if in this life only\nwe have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.' Accordingly,\nthe clerical demagogue showed more interest in the unemployed than in\nthe unconverted. Christianity, which began as a revolutionary idealism,\nhad sunk into heralding materialistic revolution. Such teachers have no\nmessage of hope and comfort for those who have lost their dearest. And\nthey have, in fact, been deserted. Their secularised Christianity was\nreceived with half-contemptuous approval by trade unions, but far deeper\nhopes, fears, and longings have now been stirred, which concern all men\nand women alike, and on the answers to which the whole value of\nexistence is now seen to depend. Christianity can answer them, but not\nthe Churches through the mouths of their accredited representatives. And\nso, instead of 'the blessed hope of everlasting life,' the bereaved have\nbeen driven to this pathetic and miserable substitute, the barbaric\nbelief in ghosts and daemons, which was old before Christianity was\nyoung. And what a starveling hope it is that necromancy offers us! An\nexistence as poor and unsubstantial as that of Homer's Hades, which the\nshade of Achilles would have been glad to exchange for serfdom to the\npoorest farmer, and with no guarantee of permanence, even if the power\nof comforting or terrifying surviving relations is supposed to persist\nfor a few years. Such a prospect would add a new terror to death; and\nnone would desire it for himself. It is plainly the dream of an aching\nheart, which cannot bear to be left alone.\n\nBut, it will be said, there is scientific evidence for survival. This\nclaim is now made. Cases are reported, with much parade of scientific\nlanguage and method, and those who reject the stories with contemptuous\nincredulity are accused of mere prejudice. Nevertheless, I cannot help\nbeing convinced that if communications between the dead and the living\nwere part of the nature of things, they would have been established long\nago beyond cavil. For there are few things which men have wished more\neagerly to believe. It is no doubt just possible that among the\nvibrations of the fundamental ingredients of our world--those attenuated\nforms of matter which are said to be not even 'material,' there may be\nsome which act as vehicles for psychical interchange. If such psychic\nwaves exist, the discovery is wholly in favour of materialism. It would\ntend to rehabilitate those notions of spirit as the most rarefied form\nof matter--an ultra-gaseous condition of it--which Stoicism and the\nChristian Stoic Tertullian postulated. The meaning of 'God is Spirit'\ncould not be understood till this insidious residue of materialism had\nbeen got rid of. It is a retrograde theory which we are asked to\nre-examine and perhaps accept. The moment we are asked to accept\n'scientific evidence' for spiritual truth, the alleged spiritual truth\nbecomes for us neither spiritual nor true. It is degraded into an event\nin the phenomenal world, and when so degraded it cannot be\nsubstantiated. Psychical research is trying to prove that eternal values\nare temporal facts, which they can never be.\n\nThe case for necromancy is no better if we leave 'scientific proof'\nalone, and appeal to the relativist metaphysics of the psychological\nschool. Intercourse with the dead is, we are told, a real psychical\nexperience, and we need not worry ourselves with the question whether it\nhas any 'objective truth.' But we cannot allow psychology to have the\nlast word in determining the truth or falsehood of religious or\nspiritual experience. The extravagant claims of this science to take the\nplace of philosophy must be abated.\n\nPsychology is the science which describes mental states, as physical\nscience describes the behaviour of matter in motion. Both are abstract\nsciences. Physical science treats nature as the totality of things\nconceived of as independent of any subject; psychology treats inner\nexperience as independent of any object. Both are outside any idea of\nvalue, though it is needless to say that the votaries of both sciences\ntrespass habitually, and often unconsciously. Both are dualisms with one\nside ignored or suppressed. When psychology meddles with ontological\nproblems--when, for instance it denies the existence of an Absolute, or\nsays that reality cannot be known--it is taking too much upon itself,\nand has fallen into the same error as the materialism of the last\ncentury. On such questions as the immortality of the soul it must remain\nsilent.\n\nFaith in human immortality stands or falls with the belief in _absolute\nvalues_. The interest of consciousness, as Professor Pringle-Pattison\nhas said in his admirable Gifford Lectures, lies in the ideal values of\nwhich it is the bearer, not in its mere existence as a more refined kind\nof fact. Idealism is most satisfactorily defined as the interpretation\nof the world according to a scale of value, or, in Plato's phrase, by\nthe Idea of the Good. The highest values in this scale are absolute,\neternal, and super-individual, and lower values are assigned their place\nin virtue of their correspondence to or participation in these absolute\nvalues. I agree with Muensterberg that the conditional and subjective\nvalues of the pragmatist have no meaning unless we have acknowledged\nbeforehand the independent value of truth. If the proof of the merely\nindividual significance of truth has itself only individual importance,\nit cannot claim any general meaning. If, on the other hand, it demands\nto be taken as generally valid, the possibility of a general truth is\nacknowledged from the start. If this one exception is granted, the whole\nillusory universe of relativism is overthrown. To deny any thought which\nis more than relative is to deprive even scepticism itself of the\npresuppositions on which it rests. The logical sceptic has no _ego_ to\ndoubt with. 'Every doubt of absolute values destroys itself. As thought\nit contradicts itself; as doubt it denies itself; as belief it despairs\nof itself.' It is not necessary or desirable to follow Muensterberg in\nidentifying valuation with will. He talks of the will judging; but the\nwill cannot judge. In contemplating existence we use our will to fix our\nattention, and then try conscientiously to prevent it from influencing\nthe verdict. But this illegitimate use of the word 'will' does not\nimpair the force of the argument for absolute values.\n\nNow, valuation arranges experience in a different manner from natural\nscience. The attributes of reality, in our world of values, are\nGoodness, Truth, and Beauty. And we assert that we have as good reason\nto claim objective reality for these Ideas as for anything in the world\nrevealed to our senses. 'All claims on man's behalf,' says Professor\nPringle-Pattison, 'must be based on the objectivity of the values\nrevealed in his experience, and brokenly realised there. Man does not\nmake values any more than he makes reality.' Our contention is that the\nworld of values, which forms the content of idealistic thought and\naspiration, is the real world; and in this world we find our own\nimmortality.\n\nBut there could be no greater error than to leave the two worlds, or the\ntwo 'judgments,' that of existence and that of value, contrasted with\neach other, or treated as unrelated in our experience. A value-judgment\nwhich is not also a judgment of existence is in the air; it is the\nbaseless fabric of a vision. Existence is itself a value, and an\ningredient in every valuation; that which has no existence has no value.\nAnd, on the other side, it is a delusion to suppose that any science can\ndispense with valuation. Even mathematics admits that there is a right\nand a wrong way of solving a problem, though by confining itself to\nquantitative measurements it can assert no more than a hypothetical\nreality for its world. It is quite certain that we can think of no\nexisting world without valuation.\n\n'The ultimate identity of existence and value is the venture of faith to\nwhich mysticism and speculative idealism are committed.'[93] It is\nindeed the presupposition of all philosophy and all religion; without\nthis faith there can, properly speaking, be no belief in God. But the\ndifference between naturalism and idealism may, I think, be better\nstated otherwise than by emphasising the contrast between existence and\nvalue, which it is impossible for either side to maintain. Naturalism\nseeks to interpret the world by investigation of origins; idealism by\ninvestigation of ends. The one finds the explanation of evolution in\nthat from which it started, the other in that to which it tends. The one\nexplains the higher by the lower; the other the lower by the higher.\nThis is a plain issue; either the world shows a teleology or it does\nnot. If it does, the philosophy based on the inorganic sciences is\nwrong. And the attempt to explain the higher by the lower becomes\nmischievous or impossible when we pass from one _order_ to another. In\nspeaking of different 'orders,' we do not commit ourselves to any sudden\nbreaks or leaps in evolution. The organic may be linked to the\ninorganic, soul to the lower forms of life, spirit to soul. But whether\nthe 'scale of perfection' is a ladder or an inclined plane, new\ncategories are necessary as we ascend it. And unless we admit an inner\nteleology as a determining factor in growth, many facts even in\nphysiology are hard to explain.\n\nIf the basis of our faith in the world-order is the conviction that the\nIdeas of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful are fully real and fully\noperative, we must try to form some clear notion of what these Ideas\nmean, and how they are related to each other. The goal of Truth, as an\nabsolute value, is unity, which in the outer world means harmony, in the\nintercourse of spirit with spirit, love; and in the inner world, peace\nor happiness. The goal of Goodness as an absolute value is the\nrealisation of the ought-to-be in victorious moral effort. Beauty is the\nself-recognition of creative Spirit in its own works; it is the\nexpression of Nature's own deepest character. Beauty gives neither\ninformation nor advice; but it satisfies a part of our nature which is\nnot less Divine than that which pays homage to Truth and Goodness.\n\nNow, these absolute values are supra-temporal. If the soul were in time,\nno value could arise; for time is always hurling its own products into\nnothingness, and the present is an unextended point, dividing an unreal\npast from an unreal future. The soul is not in time; time is rather in\nthe soul. Values are eternal and indestructible. When Plotinus says that\n'nothing that really _is_ can ever perish' (hapolehitai ohyden thon\nhonton), and when Hoeffding says that 'no value perishes out of the\nworld,' they are saying the same thing. In so far as we can identify\nourselves in thought and mind with the absolute values, we are sure of\nour immortality.\n\nBut it will be said that in the first place this promise of immortality\ncarries with it no guarantee of survival in time, and in the second\nplace that it offers us, at last, only an impersonal immortality. Let us\ntake these two objections in turn, though they are in reality closely\nconnected.\n\nWe must not regard time as an external, inhuman, unconscious process.\nTime is the frame of soul-life; outside this it has no existence. The\nentire cosmic process is the life-frame of the universal Soul, the\nDivine Logos. With this life we are vitally connected, however brief and\nunimportant the span and the task of an individual career may seem to\nus. If my particular life-meaning passes out of activity, it will be\nbecause the larger life, to which I belong, no longer needs that form of\nexpression. My death, like my birth, will have a teleological\njustification, to which my supra-temporal self will consent. When a good\nman's work in this world is done, when he is able to say, without\nforgetting his many failures, 'I have finished the work that Thou gavest\nme to do,' surely his last word will be, 'Lord, now lettest Thou Thy\nservant depart in peace'; not, 'Grant that I may flit for a while over\nmy former home, and hear what is happening to my country and my family.'\nWe may leave it to our misguided necromancers to describe the adventures\nof the disembodied ghost--\n\n    'Quo cursu deserta petiverit, et quibus ante\n     Infelix sua tecta supervolitaverit alis.'\n\nThe most respectable motive which leads men to desire a continuance of\nactive participation in the affairs of time is that which Tennyson\nexpresses in the often-quoted line, 'Give her the wages of going on, and\nnot to die.' We may feel that we have it in us to do more for God and\nour fellow-men than we shall be able to accomplish in this life, even if\nit be prolonged to old age. Is not this a desire which we may prefer as\na claim? And in any case, it is admitted that time is the form of the\nwill. Are we to have no more will after death? Further, is our probation\nover when we die? What is to be the fate of that large majority who, so\nfar as we can see, are equally undeserving of heaven and of hell? To\nthese questions no answer is possible, because we are confronted with a\nblank wall of ignorance. We do not know whether there will be any future\nprobation. We do not know whether Robert Browning's expectation of\n'other tasks in other lives, God willing,' will be fulfilled.\n\n         'And I shall thereupon\n          Take rest, ere I be gone\n    Once more on my adventure brave and new.'\n\nThe question here raised is whether there is such a thing as\nreincarnation. This belief, so widely held at all times by eminent\nthinkers, and sanctioned by some of the higher religions, cannot be\ndismissed as obsolete or impossible. But if it is put in the form, 'Will\nthe same self live again on earth under different conditions?' it may be\nthat no answer can be given, not only because we do not know, but\nbecause the question itself is meaningless. The psycho-physical organism\nwhich was born at a certain date and which will die on another date is\ncompacted of idiosyncrasies, inherited and acquired, which seem to be\ninseparable from its history as born of certain parents and living under\ncertain conditions. It is not easy to say what part of such an organism\ncould be said to maintain its identity, if it were housed in another\nbody and set down in another time and place, when all recollection of a\nprevious state has been (as we must admit) cut off. The only continuity,\nit seems to me, would be that of the racial self, if there is such a\nthing, or of the directing intelligence and will of the higher Power\nwhich sends human beings into the world to perform their allotted tasks.\n\nThe second objection, which, as I have said, is closely connected with\nthe first, is that idealism offers us a merely impersonal immortality.\nBut what is personality? The notion of a world of spiritual atoms,\n'_solida pollentia simplicitate_,' as Lucretius says, seems to be\nattractive to some minds. There are thinkers of repute who even picture\nthe Deity as the constitutional President of a _collegium_ of souls.\nThis kind of pluralism is of course fundamentally incompatible with the\npresuppositions of my paper. The idea of the 'self' seems to me to be an\narbitrary fixation of our average state of mind, a half-way house which\nbelongs to no order of real existence. The conception of an abstract ego\nseems to involve three assumptions, none of which is true. The first is\nthat there is a sharp line separating subject from object and from other\nsubjects. The second is that the subject, thus sundered from the object,\nremains identical through time. The third is that this indiscerptible\nentity is in some mysterious way both myself and my property. In\nopposition to the first, I maintain that the foci of consciousness flow\nfreely into each other even on the psychical plane, while in the eternal\nworld there are probably no barriers at all. In opposition to the\nsecond, it is certain that the empirical self is by no means identical\nthroughout, and that the spiritual life, in which we may be said to\nattain real personality for the first time, is only 'ours' potentially.\nIn opposition to the third, I repeat that the question whether it is\n'my' soul that will live in the eternal world seems to have no meaning\nat all. In philosophy as in religion, we had better follow the advice of\nthe Theologia Germanica and banish, as far as possible, the words 'me\nand mine' from our vocabulary. For personality is not something given to\nstart with. It does not belong to the world of claims and counter-claims\nin which we chiefly live. We must be willing to lose our soul on this\nlevel of experience, before we can find it unto life eternal.\nPersonality is a teleological fact; it is here in the making, elsewhere\nin fact and power. So in the case of our friends. The man whom we love\nis not the changing psycho-physical organism; it is the Christ in him\nthat we love, the perfect man who is struggling into existence in his\nlife and growth. If we ask what a man is, the answer may be either, 'He\nis what he loves,' or 'He is what he is worth.' The two are not very\ndifferent. Thus I cannot agree with Keyserling, who in criticising this\ntype of thought (with which, none the less, he has great sympathy) says\nthat 'mysticism, whether it likes it or not, ends in an impersonal\nimmortality.' For impersonality is a purely negative conception, like\ntimelessness. What is negated in 'timelessness' is not the reality of\nthe present, but the unreality of the past and future. So the\n'impersonality' which is here (not without warrant from the mystics\nthemselves) said to belong to eternal life is really the liberation of\nthe idea of personality. Personality is allowed to expand as far as it\ncan, and only so can it come into its own. When Keyserling adds, 'The\ninstinct of immortality really affirms that the individual is not\nultimate,' I entirely agree with him.\n\nThe question, however, is not whether in heaven the circumference of the\nsoul's life is indefinitely enlarged, but whether the centre remains.\nThese centres are centres of consciousness; and consciousness apparently\nbelongs to the world of will. It comes into existence when the will has\nsome work to do. It is not conterminous with life; there is a life which\nis below consciousness, and there may be a life above consciousness, or\nwhat we mean by consciousness. We must remind ourselves that we are\nusing a spatial metaphor when we speak of a centre of consciousness, and\na temporal one when we ask about a continuing state of consciousness;\nand space and time do not belong to the eternal world. The question\ntherefore needs to be transformed before any answer can be given to it.\nSpiritual life, we are justified in saying, must have a richness of\ncontent; it is, potentially at least, all embracing. But this\nenhancement of life is exhibited not only in extension but in intensity.\nEternal life is no diffusion or dilution of personality, but its\nconsummation. It seems certain that in such a state of existence\nindividuality must be maintained. If every life in this world represents\nan unique purpose in the Divine mind, and if the end or meaning of\nsoul-life, though striven for in time, has both its source and its\nachievement in eternity, this, the value and reality of the individual\nlife, must remain as a distinct fact in the spiritual world.\n\nWe are sometimes inclined to think, with a natural regret, that the\nconditions of life in the eternal world are so utterly unlike those of\nthe world which we know, that we must either leave our mental picture of\nthat life in the barest outline, or fill it in with the colours which we\nknow on earth, but which, as we are well aware, cannot portray truly the\nlife of blessed spirits. To some extent this is true; and whereas a bare\nand colourless sketch of the richest of all facts is as far from the\ntruth as possible, we may allow ourselves to fill in the picture as best\nwe can, if we remember the risks which we run in doing so. There are,\nit seems to me, two chief risks in allowing our imagination to create\nimages of the bliss of heaven. One is that the eternal world, thus drawn\nand painted with the forms and colours of earth, takes substance in our\nminds as a second physical world, either supposed to exist somewhere in\nspace, or expected to come into existence somewhen in time. This is the\nheaven of popular religion; and being a geographical or historical\nexpression, it is open to attacks which cannot be met. Hence in the\nminds of many persons the whole fact of human immortality seems to\nbelong to dreamland. The other danger is that, since a geographical and\nhistorical heaven is found to have no actuality, the hope of eternal\nlife, with all that the spiritual world contains, should be relegated to\nthe sphere of the 'ideal.' This seems to be the position of Hoeffding,\nand is quite clearly the view of thinkers like Santayana. They accept\nthe dualism of value and existence, and place the highest hopes of\nhumanity in a world which has value only and no existence. This seems to\nme to be offering mankind a stone for bread. Martineau's protest against\nthis philosophy is surely justified:\n\n     'Amid all the sickly talk about \"ideals,\" it is well to\n     remember that as long as they are a mere self-painting of\n     the yearning spirit, they have no more solidity than\n     floating air-bubbles, gay in the sunshine and broken by the\n     passing wind. You do not so much as touch the threshold of\n     religion, so long as you are detained by the phantoms of\n     your thought; the very gate of entrance to religion, the\n     moment of its new birth, is the discovery that your gleaming\n     ideal is the everlasting real.'[94]\n\nBut though our knowledge of the eternal world is much less than we could\ndesire, it is much greater than many thinkers allow. We are by no means\nshut off from realisation and possession of the eternal values while we\nlive here. We are not confined to local and temporal experience. We know\nwhat Truth and Beauty mean, not only for ourselves but for all souls\nthroughout the universe, and for God Himself. Above all, we know what\nLove means. Now Love, which is the realisation in experience of\nspiritual existence, has an unique value as a hierophant of the highest\nmysteries. And Love guarantees personality, for it needs what has been\ncalled _otherness_. In all love there must be a subject and an object,\nand a bond between them which transcends without annulling their\nseparateness. What this means for personal immortality has been seen by\nmany great minds. As an example I will quote from Plotinus' picture of\nlife in the spiritual world. This writer is certainly not inclined to\noverestimate the claims of separate individuality, and he is under no\nobligation to make his doctrine conform to the dogmas of any creed.\n\n     'Spirits yonder see themselves in others. For there all\n     things are transparent, and there is nothing dark or\n     resisting, but everyone is manifest to everyone internally,\n     and all things are manifest; for light is manifest to light.\n     For everyone has all things in himself and sees all things\n     in another, so that all things are everywhere and all is all\n     and each is all, and infinite the glory.'[95]\n\nThis eternal world is about us and within us while we live here. 'Heaven\nis nearer to our souls than the earth is to our bodies.' The world which\nwe ordinarily think of as real is an arbitrary selection from\nexperience, corresponding roughly to the average reaction of life upon\nthe average man. Some values, such as existence, persistence, and\nrationality, are assumed to be 'real'; others are relegated to the\n'ideal' Under the influence of natural science, special emphasis is laid\non those values with which that science is engaged. But our world\nchanges with us. It rises as we rise, and falls as we fall. It puts on\nimmortality as we do. 'Such as men themselves are, such will God appear\nto them to be.'[96] Spinoza rightly says that all true knowledge takes\nplace _sub specie aeternitatis_. For the pneymatikost the whole of life\nis spiritual, and, as Eucken says, he recognises the whole of the\nspiritual life as his own life-being. He learns, as Plotinus declares in\na profound sentence, that 'all things that are Yonder are also Here\nbelow.'\n\nIs it then the conclusion of the whole matter that eternal life is\nmerely the true reading of temporal life? Is earth, when seen with\npurged vision, not merely the shadow of heaven, but heaven itself? If we\ncould fuse past, present, and future into a _totum simul_, an 'Eternal\nNow,' would that be eternity? This I do not believe. A full\nunderstanding of the values of our life in time would indeed give us a\ngood _picture_ of the eternal world; but that world itself, the abode of\nGod and of blessed spirits, is a state higher and purer than can be\nfully expressed in the order of nature. The _perpetuity_ of natural laws\nas they operate through endless ages is only a Platonic 'image' of\neternity. That all values are perpetual is true; but they are something\nmore than perpetual: they are eternal. These laws are the creative\nforces which shape our lives from within; but all the creatures, as St.\nAugustine says in a well-known passage, declare their inferiority to\ntheir Creator. 'We are lower than He, for He made us.' Scholastic\ntheologians interposed an intermediary which they called _aevum_ between\ntime and eternity. _AEvum_ is perpetuity, which they rightly\ndistinguished from true eternity. Christianity is philosophically right\nin insisting that our true home, our _patria_, is 'not here.' Nor is it\nin any place: it is with God,'whose centre is everywhere and His\ncircumference nowhere.' There remaineth a rest for the people of God,\nwhen their warfare on earth is accomplished.\n\nA Christian must feel that the absence of any clear revelation about a\n_future_ state is an indication that we are not meant to make it a\nprincipal subject of our thoughts. On the other hand, the more we think\nabout the eternal values the happier we shall be. As Spinoza says, 'Love\ndirected towards the eternal and infinite fills the mind with pure joy,\nand is free from all sadness. Wherefore it is greatly to be desired, and\nsought after with our whole might.' But he also says, and I think\nwisely, that there are few subjects on which the 'free' man will ponder\nless often, than on death. The end of life is as right and natural as\nits beginning; we must not rebel against the common lot, either for\nourselves or for our friends. We are to live in the present though not\nfor the present. The two lines of Goethe which Lewis Nettleship was so\nfond of quoting convey a valuable lesson:\n\n    'Nur we du bist, sei alles, immer kindlich:\n     So bist du alles, bist unueberwindlich.'\n\n'Death does not count,' as Nettleship used to say; and he met his own\nfate on the Alps with a cheerfulness which showed that he believed it.\nThe craving for mere survival, no matter under what conditions, is\nnatural to some persons, and those who have it not must not claim any\nsuperiority over those who shudder at the idea of resigning this\n'pleasing, anxious being.' Some brave and loyal men, like Samuel\nJohnson, have feared death all their lives long; while others, even when\nfortune smiles upon them, 'have a desire to depart and to be with\nChrist, which is far better.' But the longing for survival, and the\nanxious search for evidence which may satisfy it, have undoubtedly the\neffect of binding us to earth and earthly conditions; they come between\nus and faith in true immortality. They cannot restore to us what death\ntakes away. They cannot lay the spectre which made Claudio a craven.\n\n    'Ay, but to die and go we know not where;\n     To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;\n     This sensible warm motion to become\n     A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit\n     To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside\n     In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;\n     To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,\n     And blown with restless violence round about\n     The pendent world; or to be worse than worst\n     Of those that lawless and uncertain thoughts\n     Imagine howling! 'tis too horrible!\n     The weariest and most loathed earthly life\n     That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment\n     Can lay on nature, is a paradise\n     To what we fear of death.'\n\nWe know now, if we did not know it three years ago, that the average man\ncan face death, and does face it in the majority of cases, with a\nserenity which would be incomprehensible if he did not know in his\nheart of hearts that it does not matter much. He may have no articulated\nfaith in immortality, but, like Spinoza, he has 'felt and experienced\nthat he is eternal.' Perhaps he only says to himself, 'Who dies if\nEngland lives?' But the England that lives is his own larger self, the\nlife that is more his own life than the beating of his heart, which a\nbullet may still for ever. And if the exaltation of noble patriotism can\n'abolish death, and bring life and immortality to light' for almost any\nunthinking lad from our factories and hedgerows, should not religion be\nable to do as much for us all? And may it not be that some touch of\nheroic self-abnegation is necessary before we can have a soul which\ndeath cannot touch? When Christ said that those who are willing to lose\ntheir souls shall save them, is not this what He meant? We must accustom\nourselves to breathe the air of the eternal values, if we desire to live\nfor ever. And a strong faith is not curious about details. 'Beloved, now\nare we sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be. But we\nknow that when He is made manifest we shall be like Him, for we shall\nsee Him as He is.'\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n     [93] Quoted by Professor Pringle-Pattison from an article by\n     me in the _Times_ Literary Supplement.\n\n     [94] _Study of Religion_, vol. i. 12.\n\n     [95] _Ennead_, v. 8, 4.\n\n     [96] From John Smith, the Cambridge Platonist.\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Outspoken Essays","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":101551}