{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25009/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25009","id":"gutenberg_25009","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Economics","Category: Encyclopedias/Dictionaries/Reference","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Economics","Philosophy"],"text":"Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, Greg Bergquist and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Plato]\n\n\n\n\n  THE WORLD'S\n  GREATEST\n  BOOKS\n\n\n  JOINT EDITORS\n\n  ARTHUR MEE\n  Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge\n\n  J. A. HAMMERTON\n  Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia\n\n\n  VOL. XIV\n\n  PHILOSOPHY\n  (CONTINUED)\n\n  ECONOMICS\n\n  WM. H. WISE & CO.\n\n\n\n\n  _Table of Contents_\n\n\n  PORTRAIT OF PLATO                  _Frontispiece_\n\n\n  PHILOSOPHY (_continued_)\n\n  HEGEL, G.W.F.      PAGE\n  The Philosophy of History                      1\n\n  HUME, DAVID\n  Essays, Moral and Political                   13\n\n  KANT, IMMANUEL\n  The Critique of Pure Reason                   24\n  The Critique of Practical Reason              34\n\n  LEWES, GEORGE HENRY\n  A History of Philosophy                       45\n\n  LOCKE, JOHN\n  Concerning the Human Understanding            56\n\n  MONTAIGNE\n  Essays                                        64\n\n  PLATO\n  The Apology, or Defence of Socrates           75\n  The Republic                                  84\n\n  SCHOPENHAUER\n  The World as Will and Idea                    99\n\n  SENECA, L. ANNAEUS\n  On Benefits                                  109\n\n  SPENCER, HERBERT\n  Education      120\n  Principles of Biology                        133\n  Principles of Sociology                      145\n\n  SPINOZA, BENEDICT DE\n  Ethics                                       160\n\n\n  ECONOMICS\n\n  BELLAMY, EDWARD\n  Looking Backward                             173\n\n  BENTHAM, JEREMY\n  Principles of Morals and Legislation         186\n\n  BLOCH, JEAN\n  The Future of War                            199\n\n  BURKE, EDMUND\n  Reflections on the Revolution in France      212\n\n  COMTE, AUGUSTE\n  A Course of Positive Philosophy              224\n\n  GEORGE, HENRY\n  Progress and Poverty                         238\n\n  HOBBES, THOMAS\n  The Leviathan                                249\n\n  MACHIAVELLI, NICCOLO\n  The Prince                                   261\n\n  MALTHUS, T.R.\n  On the Principle of Population               270\n\n  MARX, KARL\n  Capital: A Critical Analysis                 282\n\n  MILL, JOHN STUART\n  Principles of Political Economy              294\n\n  MONTESQUIEU\n  The Spirit of Laws                           306\n\n  MORE, SIR THOMAS\n  Utopia Nowhere Land                          315\n\n  PAINE, THOMAS\n  The Rights of Man                            324\n\n  ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES\n  The Social Contract                          337\n\n  SMITH, ADAM\n  Wealth of Nations                            350\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end\nof Volume XX.\n\n\n\n\n_Acknowledgment_\n\n\nAcknowledgment and thanks for permission to use the following selections\nare herewith tendered to Houghton, Mifflin & Company, Boston, for\n\"Looking Backward,\" by Edward Bellamy; to Ginn & Company, Boston, for\nthe International School of Peace, for \"The Future of War,\" by Jean\nBloch; and to Doubleday, Page & Company, New York, for \"Progress and\nPoverty,\" by Henry George.\n\n\n\n\n_Philosophy_\n\nHEGEL\n\nThe Philosophy of History\n\n     Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel was born on August 27, 1770, at\n     Stuttgart, the capital of Wuertemburg, in which state his father\n     occupied a humble position in government service. He was educated\n     at Tuebingen for the ministry, and while there was, in private, a\n     diligent student of Kant and Rousseau. In 1805 he was Professor\n     Extraordinarius at the University of Jena, and in 1807 he gave the\n     world the first of his great works, the \"Phenomenology.\" It was not\n     until 1816 that Hegel's growing fame as a writer secured for him a\n     professorship at Heidelberg, but, after two years, he exchanged it\n     for one at Berlin, where he remained until his death on November\n     14, 1831. On October 22, 1818, he began his famous lectures. \"Our\n     business and vocation,\" he remarked to his listeners, \"is to\n     cherish the philosophical development of the substantial foundation\n     which has renewed its youth and increased its strength.\" Although\n     the lectures on the \"Philosophy of History\" and on the \"Philosophy\n     of Religion\" (Vol. XIII) were delivered during this period, they\n     were not published until a year after his death, when his collected\n     works were issued.\n\n\n_I.--In the East Began History_\n\nUniversal or world-history travels from east to west, for Europe is\nabsolutely the end of history, Asia the beginning. The history of the\nworld has an east in an absolute sense, for, although the earth forms a\nsphere, history describes no orbit round it, but has, on the contrary, a\ndeterminate orient--_viz._, Asia. Here rises the outward visible sun,\nand in the west it sinks down; here also rises the sun of\nself-consciousness. The history of the world is a discipline of the\nuncontrolled natural will, bringing it into obedience to a universal\nprinciple and conferring a subjective freedom. The East knew, and to\nthis day knows, freedom only for one; the Greek and Roman world knew\nthat some are free; the German world knows that all are free. The first\npolitical form, therefore, that we see in history is despotism; the\nsecond democracy and aristocracy; and the third monarchy.\n\nThe first phase--that with which we have to begin--is the East.\nUnreflected consciousness--substantial, objective, spiritual\nexistence--forms the basis; to which the subjective will first sustains\na relation in the form of faith, confidence, obedience. In the political\nlife of the East we find realised national freedom, developing itself\nwithout advancing to subjective freedom. It is the childhood of history.\nIn the gorgeous edifices of the Oriental empires we find all national\nordinances and arrangements, but in such a way that individuals remain\nas mere accidents. These revolve round a centre, round the sovereign,\nwho as patriarch stands (not as despot, in the sense of the Roman\nimperial constitution) at the head. For he has to enforce the moral and\nsubstantial; he has to uphold those essential ordinances which are\nalready established; so that what among us belongs entirely to\nsubjective freedom, here proceeds from the entire and general body of\nthe state.\n\nThe glory of the Oriental conception is the one individual as the\nsubstantial being to which all belongs, so that no other individual has\na separate existence, or mirrors himself in his subjective freedom. All\nthe riches of imagination and nature are appropriated to that dominant\nexistence in which subjective freedom is essentially merged; the latter\nlooks for its dignity not in itself but in the absolute object. All the\nelements of a complete state--even subjectivity--may be found there, but\nnot yet harmonised with the grand substantial being. For outside the one\npower--before which nothing can maintain an independent existence--there\nis only revolting caprice, which, beyond the limits of the central\npower, moves at will without purpose or result.\n\nAccordingly we find the wild herds breaking out from the upland,\nfalling upon the countries in question and laying them waste, or\nsettling down in them and giving up their wild life; but in all cases\nlost resultlessly in the central substance.\n\nThis phase of substantiality, since it has not taken up its antithesis\ninto itself and overcome it, directly divides itself into two elements.\nOn the one side we see duration, stability--empires belonging, as it\nwere, to mere Space (as distinguished from Time); unhistorical history,\nas, for example, in China, the state based on the family relation. Yet\nthe states in question, without undergoing any change in themselves, or\nin the principle of their existence, are constantly changing their\nopinion towards each other. They are in ceaseless conflict, which brings\non rapid destruction. The opposing principle of individuality enters\ninto these conflicting relations; but it is itself as yet only\nunconscious, merely natural universality--light which is not yet the\nlight of the personal soul. This history, too, is for the most part\nreally unhistorical, for it is only the repetition of the same majestic\nruin.\n\nThe new element which, in the shape of bravery, prowess, magnanimity,\noccupies the place of the previous despotic pomp goes through the same\ncycle of decline and subsidence. And this subsidence, therefore, is not\nreally such; for through all this restless change no advance has been\nmade. History passes at this point--and only outwardly, that is, without\nconnection with the previous phase--to Central Asia. To carry on the\ncomparison with the individual man, this would be the boyhood of\nhistory, no longer manifesting the repose and trustfulness of the child,\nbut boisterous and turbulent.\n\n\n_II.--Greece, Rome and Christianity_\n\nThe Greek world may, then, be compared to the season of adolescence, for\nhere we have individualities shaping themselves. This is the second\nmain principle in human history. Morality is, as in Asia, a principle,\nbut it is morality impressed on individuality, and consequently denoting\nthe free volition of individuals. Here, then, is the union of the moral\nwith the subjective will, or the kingdom of beautiful freedom, for the\nidea is united with a plastic form. It is not yet regarded abstractly,\nbut intimately bound up with the real, as in a beautiful work of art;\nthe sensible bears the stamp and expression of the spiritual. The\nkingdom is consequently true harmony; it is a world of the most charming\nbut perishable, or quickly passing, bloom; it is the natural,\nunreflecting observance of what is becoming--not yet true morality. The\nindividual will of the subject adopts without reflection the conduct and\nhabit prescribed by justice and the laws. The individual is, therefore,\nin unconscious unity with the idea--the social weal.\n\nThe third phase is the realm of abstract universality (in which the\nsocial aim absorbs all individual aims); it is the Roman state, the\nsevere labours of the manhood of history. For true manhood acts neither\nin accordance with the caprice of a despot nor in obedience to a\ngraceful caprice of its own. It works for a general aim, one in which\nthe individual perishes and realises his own private object only in that\ngeneral aim. The state begins to have an abstract existence and to\ndevelop itself for a definite object, in accomplishing which its members\nhave indeed a share, but not a complete and concrete one (calling their\nwhole being into play). Free individuals are sacrificed to the severe\ndemands of the national ends, to which they must surrender themselves in\nthis service of abstract generalisation. The Roman state is not a\nrepetition of such a state of individuals as was the Athenian _polis_.\nThe geniality and joy of soul that existed there have given place to\nharsh and rigorous toil. The interest of history is detached from\nindividuals.\n\nBut when, subsequently, in the historical development, individuality\ngains the ascendant, and the breaking up of the community into its\ncomponent atoms can be restrained only by external compulsion, then the\nsubjective might of individual despotism comes forward to play its part.\nThe individual is led to seek consolation for the loss of his freedom in\nexercising and developing his private rights. In the next place, the\npain inflicted by despotism begins to be felt, and spirit, driven back\ninto its utmost depths, leaves the godless world, seeks for a harmony in\nitself, and begins now an inner life--a complete concrete subjectivity,\nwhich at the same time possesses a substantiality that is not grounded\nin mere external existence.\n\nWithin the soul, therefore, arises the spiritual solution of the\nstruggle, in the fact that the individual personality, instead of\nfollowing its own capricious choice, is purified and elevated into\nuniversality--a subjectivity that of its own free will adopts principles\ntending to the good of all, reaches, in fact, a divine personality. To\nthe worldly empire this spiritual one wears a predominant aspect of\nopposition, as the empire of subjectivity that has attained to the\nknowledge of itself--itself in its essential nature--the empire of\nspirit in its full sense.\n\nThe Christian community found itself in the Roman world, but as it was\nsecluded from this state, and did not hold the emperor for its absolute\nsovereign, it was the object of persecution. Then was manifested its\ninward liberty in the steadfastness with which sufferings were borne. As\nregards its relation to the truth, the fathers of the Church built up\nthe dogma, but a chief element was furnished by the previous development\nof philosophy. Just as Philo found a deeper import shadowed forth in the\nMosaic record and idealised what he considered the bare shell of the\nnarrative, so also did the Christians treat their records.\n\nIt was through the Christian religion that the absolute idea of God, in\nif true conception, attained consciousness. Here man, too, finds\nhimself comprehended in his true nature, given in the specific\nconception of \"the Son.\" Man, finite when regarded for himself, is yet\nat the same time the image of God and a fountain of infinity in himself.\nConsequently he has his true home in a super-sensuous world--an infinite\nsubjectivity, gained only by a rupture with mere natural existence and\nvolition. This is religious self-consciousness.\n\nThe first abstract principles are won by the instrumentality of the\nChristian religion for the secular state. First, under Christianity\nslavery is impossible; for man as man--in the abstract essence of his\nnature--is contemplated in God; each unit of mankind is an object of the\ngrace of God and of the divine purpose. Utterly excluding all\nspeciality, therefore, man, in and for himself--in his simple quality of\nman--has infinite value; and this infinite value abolishes, _ipso\nfacto_, all particularity attaching to birth or country.\n\nThe other, the second principle, regards the subjectivity of man in its\nbearing on chance. Humanity has this sphere of free spirituality in and\nfor itself, and everything else must proceed from it. The place\nappropriated to the abode and presence of the Divine Spirit--the sphere\nin question--is spiritual subjectivity, and is constituted the place in\nwhich all contingency is amenable. It follows, thence, that what we\nobserve among the Greeks as a form of customary morality cannot maintain\nits position in the Christian world. For that morality is spontaneous,\nunreflected wont; while the Christian principle is independent\nsubjectivity--the soil on which grows the True.\n\nNow, an unreflected morality cannot continue to hold its ground against\nthe principle of subjective freedom. Now the principle of absolute\nfreedom in God makes its appearance. Man no longer sustains the relation\nof dependence, but of love--in the consciousness that he is a partaker\nin the Divine existence.\n\n\n_III.--The Germanic World_\n\nThe German world appears at this point of development--the fourth phase\nof world history. The old age of nature is weakness; but this of spirit\nis its perfect maturity and strength, in which it returns to unity with\nitself, but in its fully developed character as spirit.\n\nThe Greeks and Romans had reached maturity within ere they directed\ntheir energies outwards. The Germans, on the contrary, began with\nself-diffusion, deluging the world, and breaking down in their course\nthe hollow political fabrics of the civilised nations. Only then did\ntheir development begin, kindled by a foreign culture, a foreign\nreligion, polity, and legislation. The process of culture they underwent\nconsisted in taking up foreign elements into their own national life.\n\nThe German world took up the Roman culture and religion in their\ncompleted form. The Christian religion which it adopted had received\nfrom councils and fathers of the Church--who possessed the whole\nculture, and in particular the philosophy of the Greek and Roman\nworld--a perfected dogmatic system. The Church, too, had a completely\ndeveloped hierarchy. To the native tongue of the Germans the Church\nlikewise opposed one perfectly developed--the Latin. In art and\nphilosophy a similar alien influence predominated. The same principle\nholds good in regard to the form of the secular sovereignty. Gothic and\nother chiefs gave themselves the name of Roman patricians. Thus,\nsuperficially, the German world appears to be a continuation of the\nRoman. But there dwelt in it an entirely new spirit--the free spirit\nwhich reposes on itself.\n\nThe three periods of this world will have to be treated accordingly.\n\nThe first period begins with the appearance of the German nations in the\nRoman Empire. The Christian world presents itself as Christendom--one\nmass of which, the spiritual and the secular, form only different\naspects. This epoch extends to Charlemagne. In the second period the\nChurch develops for itself a theocracy and the state a feudal monarchy.\nCharlemagne had formed an alliance with the Holy See against the\nLombards and the factions of the nobles in Rome. A union thus arose\nbetween the spiritual and the secular power, and a kingdom of heaven on\nearth promised to follow in the wake of this conciliation. But just at\nthis time, instead of a spiritual kingdom of heaven, the inwardness of\nthe Christian principle wears the appearance of being altogether\ndirected outwards, and leaving its proper sphere.\n\nChristian freedom is perverted to its very opposite, both in a religious\nand secular respect; on the one hand to the severest bondage, on the\nother to the most immoral excess--a barbarous intensity of every\npassion. The first half of the sixteenth century marks the beginning of\nthe third period. Secularity appears now as gaining a consciousness of\nits intrinsic worth; it becomes aware that it possesses a value of its\nown in the morality, rectitude, probity, and activity of man. The\nconsciousness of independent validity is aroused through the restoration\nof Christian freedom.\n\nThe Christian principle has now passed through the terrible discipline\nof culture, and it first attains truth and reality through the\nReformation. This third period extends to our own times. The principle\nof free spirit is here made the banner of the world, and from this\nprinciple are evolved the universal axioms of reason. Formal\nthought--the understanding--had been already developed, but thought\nreceived its true material first with the Reformation. From that Epoch\nthought began to gain a culture properly its' own; principles were\nderived from it which were to be the norm for the constitution of the\nstate. Political life was now to be consciously regulated by reason.\nCustomary morality, traditional usage, lost their validity; the various\nclaims insisted upon must prove their legitimacy as based on rational\nprinciples.\n\nThese epochs may be compared with the earlier empires. In the German\naeon, as the realm of totality, we see the earlier epochs resumed.\nCharlemagne's time may be compared with the Persian Empire; it is the\nperiod of substantive unity, this unity having its foundation in the\ninner man, the heart, and both in the spiritual and the secular still\nabiding in its simplicity. To the Greek world and its merely ideal unity\nthe time preceding Charles V. answers; where real unity no longer\nexists, because all phases of particularity have become fixed in\nprivileges and peculiar rights As, in the interior of the realms\nthemselves, the different estates of the realm, with their several\nclaims, are isolated, so do the various states in their foreign aspects\noccupy a merely external relation one to another. A diplomatic policy\narises which, in the interest of a European balance of power, unites\nthem with and against each other. It is the time in which the world\nbecomes clear and manifest to all (discovery of America).\n\nSo, too, does consciousness gain clearness in the super-sensuous world,\nand respecting it. Substantial objective religion brings itself to\nsensuous clearness in the sensuous element (Christian art), and also\nbecomes clear to itself in the element of inmost truth. We may compare\nthis time with that of Pericles. The introversion of spirit begins\n(Socrates--Luther), though Pericles is wanting in this epoch. Charles V.\npossesses enormous possibilities in point of outward appliances, and\nappears absolute in his power; but the inner spirit of Pericles, and\ntherefore the absolute means of establishing a free sovereignty, is not\nin him. This is the epoch when spirit becomes clear to itself in\nseparations occurring in the realm of reality; now the distinct elements\nof the German world manifest their essential nature.\n\nThe third epoch may be compared to the Roman world. The authority of\nnational aim is acknowledged, and privileges melt away before the common\nobject of the state.\n\n\n_IV.--Modern Times_\n\nSpirit at last perceives that nature--the world--must be an embodiment\nof reason. An interest in the contemplation and comprehension of the\npresent world became universal. Thus experimental science became the\nscience of the world; for experimental science involves, on the one\nhand, the observation of phenomena; on the other hand, also the\ndiscovery of the law, the essential being, the hidden force, that causes\nthose phenomena--thus reducing the data supplied by observation to their\nsimple principles. Intellectual consciousness was first extricated by\nDescartes from that sophistry of thought which unsettles everything. As\nit was the purely German nations among whom the principle of spirit\nfirst manifested itself, so it was by the Romanic nations that the\nabstract idea was first comprehended.\n\nExperimental science, therefore, very soon made its way among them, in\ncommon with the Protestant English, but especially among the Italians.\nIt seemed to men as if God had but just created the moon and stars,\nplants and animals; as if the laws of the universe were now established\nfor the first time; for only then did they feel a real interest in the\nuniverse when they recognised their own reason in the reason that\npervades it. The human eye became clear, perception quick, thought\nactive and interpretative. The discovery of the laws of nature enabled\nmen to contend against the monstrous superstition of the time, as also\nagainst all notions of mighty alien powers which magic alone could\nconquer.\n\nThe independent authority of subjectivity was maintained against belief\nfounded on authority, and the laws of nature were recognised as the only\nbond connecting phenomena with phenomena. Man is at home in nature, and\nthat alone passes for truth in which he finds himself at home; he is\nfree through the acquaintance he has gained with nature.\n\nNor was thought less vigorously directed to the spiritual side. Right\nand social morality came to be looked upon as having their foundation in\nthe actual present will of man, whereas formerly it was referred only to\nthe command of God enjoined _ab extra_, written in the Old or New\nTestament, or appearing in the form of particular right, as opposed to\nthat based on general principles, in old parchments as _privilegia_, or\nin international compacts. Luther had secured to mankind spiritual\nfreedom, and the reconciliation of the objective and the subjective in\nthe concrete. He had triumphantly established the position that man's\neternal destiny must be wrought out in himself. But the import of that\nwhich is to take place in him--what truth is to become vital to him--was\ntaken for granted by Luther, as something already given, something\nrevealed by religion. Now the principle was set up that this import must\nbe capable of actual investigation, and that to this basis of inward\ndemonstration every dogma must be referred.\n\nThis is the point which consciousness has attained, and these are the\nprincipal phases of that form in which the principle of freedom has\nrealised itself, for the history of the world is nothing but the\ndevelopment of the idea of freedom. But objective freedom--the laws of\n\"real\" freedom--demands the subjugation of the mere contingent will, for\nthis is in its nature formal. If the objective is in itself rational,\nhuman insight and conviction must correspond with the reason which it\nembodies, and then we have the other essential element--subjective\nfreedom--also realised. We have confined ourselves to the consideration\nof that progress of the idea which has led to this consummation.\nPhilosophy concerns itself only with the glory of the idea mirroring\nitself in the history of the world, and with the development which the\nidea has passed through in realising itself--_i.e._, the idea of\nfreedom, whose reality is the consciousness of freedom and nothing short\nof it.\n\nThat the history of the world, with all the changing scenes which its\nannals present, is this true process of development and the realisation\nof spirit--this is the true _Theodikaia_, the justification of God in\nhistory. The spirit of man may be reconciled with the course of\nuniversal history only by perception of this truth--that all which has\nhappened, all that happens daily, is not only not without God, but is\nessentially His work.\n\n\n\n\nDAVID HUME\n\nEssays, Moral and Political\n\n     David Hume, the Scottish philosopher and historian, was born at\n     Edinburgh, April 26, 1711, and was educated at the college there.\n     He tried law and business without liking either, and at the age of\n     23 went to France, where he wandered about for a while occupied\n     with dreams of philosophy. In 1739 he published the first part of\n     his \"Treatise on Human Nature.\" The book set an army of\n     philosophers at work trying either to refute what he had said or\n     continue lines that he had suggested, and out of them were created\n     both the Scotch and German schools of metaphysicians. Hume's\n     \"Essays, Moral and Political,\" appeared in 1741-42, and followed\n     closely upon what he described as the \"dead-born\" \"Treatise on\n     Human Nature,\" the success of the former going a long way towards\n     compensating him for the failure of the latter. In the\n     advertisement to a posthumous edition Hume complains that\n     controversialists had confined their attacks to the crude, earlier\n     treatise, and expressed the desire that for the future the \"Essays\"\n     might alone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments\n     and principles. In the \"Essays\" Hume brings to bear the results of\n     his criticism upon the problems of current speculative discussion.\n     The argument against miracles is still often discussed; and the\n     work is well worthy of the author whom many regard as the greatest\n     thinker of his time. In 1751 he published his \"Inquiry Into the\n     Principles of Morals,\" which is one of the clearest expositions of\n     the leading principles of what is termed the utilitarian system.\n     Hume died on August 25, 1776.\n\n\n_I.--Doubts Concerning the Understanding_\n\nAll the objects of human reason or inquiry may naturally be divided into\ntwo kinds--to wit, _relations of ideas_ and _matters of fact_. Of the\nfirst kind are the sciences of geometry, algebra, and arithmetic, and,\nin short, every affirmation which is either intuitively or\ndemonstratively certain. \"That the square of the hypotenuse is equal to\nthe squares of the two sides\" is a proposition which expresses a\nrelation between these figures. \"That three times five is equal to the\nhalf of thirty\" expresses a relation between these numbers.\nPropositions of this kind are discoverable by the mere operation of\nthought, without dependence on what is anywhere existent in the\nuniverse. Though there never were a circle or triangle in nature, the\ntruths demonstrated by Euclid would for ever retain their certainty and\nevidence.\n\nMatters of fact, which are the second objects of human reason, are not\nascertained in the same manner; nor is our evidence of their truth,\nhowever great, of a like nature with the foregoing. The contrary of\nevery matter of fact is still possible, because it can never imply a\ncontradiction, and is conceived by the mind with the same facility and\ndistinctness as if ever so conformable to reality. \"That the sun will\nnot rise to-morrow\" is no less intelligible a proposition, and implies\nno more contradiction, than the affirmative that \"it will rise.\" We\nshould in vain, therefore, attempt to demonstrate its falsehood. Were it\ndemonstratively false, it would imply a contradiction, and could never\nbe distinctly conceived by the mind.\n\nIt may, therefore, be a subject worthy of curiosity to inquire what is\nthe nature of that evidence which assures us of any real existence of\nmatters of fact beyond the present testimony of our senses, or the\nrecords of our memory. All reasonings concerning matter of fact seem to\nbe founded on the relation of _cause_ and _effect_. If we would satisfy\nourselves, therefore, concerning the nature of that evidence which\nassures us of matters of fact, we must inquire how we arrive at the\nknowledge of cause and effect.\n\nI shall venture to affirm, as a general proposition which admits of no\nexception, that the knowledge of this relation is not, in any instance,\nattained by reasonings _a priori_, but arises entirely from experience.\n\nTo convince us that all the laws of nature, and all the operations of\nbodies without exception, are known only by experience, the following\nreflections may perhaps suffice. Were any object presented to us, and\nwere we required to pronounce concerning the effect which will result\nfrom it, without consulting past observation, after what manner, I\nbeseech you, must the mind proceed in this operation? It must invent or\nimagine some event, which it ascribes to the object as its effect; and\nit is plain that this invention must be entirely arbitrary. The mind can\nnever possibly find the effect in the supposed cause by the most\naccurate scrutiny and examination. For the effect is totally different\nfrom the cause, and, consequently, can never be discovered in it.\n\nA stone or piece of metal raised into the air and left without any\nsupport immediately falls. But, to consider the matter _a priori_, is\nthere anything we discover in this situation which can beget the idea of\na downward rather than an upward, or any other motion, in the stone or\nmetal?\n\nIn a word, then, every effect is a distinct event from its cause. It\ncould not, therefore, be discovered in the cause, and the first\ninvention or conception of it, _a priori_, must be entirely arbitrary.\nAnd, even after it is suggested, the conjunction of it with the cause\nmust appear equally arbitrary, since there are always many other effects\nwhich to reason must seem fully as consistent and natural. In vain,\ntherefore, should we pretend to determine any single event, or infer any\ncause or effect, without the assistance of observation and experience.\n\nHence, we may discover the reason why no philosopher who is rational and\nmodest has ever pretended to assign the ultimate cause of any natural\noperation, or to show distinctly the action of that power which produces\nany single effect in the universe.\n\nI say, then, that even after we have experience of the operations of\ncause and effect, our conclusions from that experience are _not_ founded\non reasoning, or any process of the understanding.\n\nThe bread which I formerly ate nourished me; that is, a body of such\nsensible qualities was at that time endued with such secret powers; but\ndoes it follow that other bread must also nourish me at another time,\nand that like sensible qualities must always be attended with like\nsecret powers? The consequence seems nowise necessary. At least, it must\nbe acknowledged that there is here a consequence drawn by the mind, that\nthere is a certain step taken; a process of thought, and an inference\nwhich wants to be explained.\n\nThese two propositions are far from being the same: \"I have found that\nsuch an object has always been attended with such an effect,\" and: \"I\nforesee that other objects, which are in appearance similar, will be\nattended with similar effects.\" I shall allow, if you please, that the\none proposition may justly be inferred from the other; I know, in fact,\nthat it always is inferred. But you must confess that the inference is\nnot intuitive; neither is it demonstrative. Of what nature is it, then?\nTo say it is experimental is begging the question. For all inferences\nfrom experience suppose, as their foundation, that the future will\nresemble the past, and that similar powers will be conjoined with\nsimilar sensible qualities.\n\nIf there be any suspicion that the course of nature may change, and that\nthe past may be no rule for the future, all experience becomes useless,\nand can give rise to no inference or conclusion. It is impossible,\ntherefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this resemblance\nof the past to the future, since all these arguments are founded on the\nsupposition of that resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed\nhitherto ever so regular, that alone, without some new argument or\ninference, proves not that for the future it will continue so. In vain\ndo you pretend to have learned the nature of bodies from your past\nexperience. Their secret nature, and consequently all their effects and\ninfluence, may change without any change in their sensible qualities.\nThis happens sometimes, and with regard to some objects. Why may it not\nhappen always, and with regard to all objects? What logic, what process\nof argument, secures you against this supposition? My practice, you say,\nrefutes my doubts. But you mistake the purport of my question. As an\nagent, I am quite satisfied on the point; but as a philosopher, who has\nsome share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I want to learn the\nfoundation of this inference.\n\nAll inferences from experience are effects of custom, not of reasoning.\nWe have already observed that nature has established connections among\nparticular ideas, and that no sooner one idea occurs to our thoughts\nthan it introduces its correlative, and carries our attention towards it\nby a gentle and insensible movement. These principles of connection or\nassociation we have reduced to three--namely, _resemblance_,\n_contiguity_, and _causation_, which are the only bonds that unite our\nthoughts together and beget that regular train of reflection or\ndiscourse which, in a greater or less degree, takes place among mankind.\n\nNow, here arises a question on which the solution of the present\ndifficulty will depend. Does it happen in all these relations that when\none of the objects is presented to the senses or memory the mind is not\nonly carried to the conception of the correlative, but reaches a\nsteadier and stronger conception of it than otherwise it would have been\nable to attain? This seems to be the case with that belief which arises\nfrom the relation of cause and effect. And I shall add that it is\nconformable to the ordinary wisdom of nature to secure so necessary an\nact of the mind by some instinct or mechanical tendency, which may be\ninfallible in its operations, may discover itself at the first\nappearance of life and thought, and may be independent of all the\nlaboured deductions of the understanding.\n\n\n_II.--On Miracles_\n\nA wise man proportions his belief to the evidence. In such conclusions\nas are founded on an infallible experience he expects the event with the\nlast degree of assurance, and regards his past experience as a full\n_proof_ of the future existence of that event.\n\nIn other cases he proceeds with more caution. He weighs the opposite\nexperiments. He considers which side is supported by the greatest number\nof experiments; to that side he inclines with doubt and hesitation, and\nwhen at last he fixes his judgment, the evidence exceeds not what we\nproperly call _probability_. All probability, then, supposes an\nopposition of experiments and observations, where the one side is found\nto overbalance the other, and to produce a degree of evidence\nproportioned to the superiority.\n\nWhen the fact attested is such a one as has seldom fallen under our\nobservation, here is a contest of two possible experiences, of which the\none destroys the other as far as its force goes, and the superior can\nonly operate on the mind by the force which remains. The very same\nprinciple of experience which gives us a certain degree of assurance in\nthe testimony of witnesses gives us also, in this case, another degree\nof assurance against the fact which they endeavour to establish, from\nwhich consideration there necessarily arises a counterpoise, and mutual\ndestruction of belief and authority.\n\nBut in order to increase the probability against the testimony of\nwitnesses, let us suppose that the fact which they affirm, instead of\nbeing only marvellous, is really miraculous; and suppose also that the\ntestimony, considered apart and in itself, amounts to an entire proof,\nof which the strongest must prevail, but still with a diminution of its\nforce in proportion to that of its antagonist.\n\nA miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and\nunalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a\nmiracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument\nfrom experience can possibly be imagined. Why is it more than probable\nthat all men must die; that lead cannot of itself remain suspended in\nthe air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water; unless\nit be that these events are found agreeable to the laws of nature, and\nthere is required a violation of these laws, or, in other words, a\nmiracle, to prevent them?\n\nNothing is esteemed a miracle if it ever happen in the common course of\nnature. It is no miracle that a man seemingly in good health should die\non a sudden, because such a kind of death, though more unusual than any\nother, has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is a miracle\nthat a dead man should come to life, because that has never been\nobserved in any age or country. There must, therefore, be a uniform\nexperience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event would not\nmerit that appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a proof,\nthere is here a direct and full _proof_, from the nature of the fact,\nagainst the existence of any miracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed,\nor the miracle rendered credible, but by an opposite proof which is\nsuperior.\n\nThe plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our\nattention) \"that no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle\nunless the testimony be of such a kind that its falsehood would be more\nmiraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish; and even in\nthat case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior\nonly gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force which\nremains after deducting the inferior.\"\n\nThere surely never was a greater number of miracles ascribed to one\nperson than those which were lately said to have been wrought in France\nupon the tomb of Abbe Paris, the famous Jansenist, with whose sanctity\nthe people were so long deluded. The curing of the sick, giving hearing\nto the deaf and sight to the blind, were everywhere talked of as the\nusual effects of that holy sepulchre. But, what is more extraordinary,\nmany of the miracles were immediately proved upon the spot before judges\nof unquestioned integrity, attested by witnesses of credit and\ndistinction, in a learned age, and in the most eminent theatre that is\nnow in the world.\n\nNor is this all; a relation of them was published and dispersed\neverywhere; nor were the Jesuits--though a learned body, supported by\nthe civil magistrate and determined enemies to those opinions in whose\nfavour the miracles were said to have been wrought--ever able distinctly\nto refute or detect them. Where shall we find such a number of\ncircumstances agreeing to the corroboration of one fact? And what have\nwe to oppose to such a cloud of witnesses but the absolute impossibility\nor miraculous nature of the events which they relate? And this surely,\nin the eyes of all reasonable people, will alone be regarded as a\nsufficient refutation.\n\nSuppose that all the historians who treat of England should agree that\non January 1, 1600, Queen Elizabeth died; that both before and after her\ndeath she was seen by her physicians and the whole court, as is usual\nwith persons of her rank; that her successor was acknowledged and\nproclaimed by the Parliament; and that, after being interred a month,\nshe again appeared, resumed the throne, and governed England for three\nyears; I must confess that I should be surprised at the concurrence of\nso many odd circumstances, but should not have the least inclination to\nbelieve so miraculous an event. I should not doubt of her pretended\ndeath, and of those other public circumstances that followed it; I\nshould only assert it to have been pretended, and that it neither was,\nnor possibly could be, real.\n\nYou would in vain object to me the difficulty and almost impossibility\nof deceiving the world in an affair of such consequence; the wisdom and\nsolid judgment of that renowned queen; with the little or no advantage\nwhich she could reap from so poor an artifice. All this might astonish\nme; but I would still reply that the knavery and folly of men are such\ncommon phenomena that I should rather believe the most extraordinary\nevents to arise from their concurrence than admit of so signal a\nviolation of the laws of nature.\n\nOur most holy religion is founded on _faith_, not on reason; and it is a\nsure method of exposing it to put it to such a trial as it is by no\nmeans fitted to endure. To make this more evident, let us examine those\nmiracles related in the Pentateuch, which we shall examine as the\nproduction of a mere human writer and historian. Here, then, we are\nfirst to consider a book, presented to us by a barbarous and ignorant\npeople, written in an age when they were still more barbarous, and in\nall probability long after the facts which it relates, corroborated by\nno concurring testimony, and resembling those fabulous accounts which\nevery nation gives of its origin.\n\nUpon reading this book we find it full of prodigies and miracles. It\ngives an account of a state of the world and of human nature entirely\ndifferent from the present; of our fall from that state; of the age of\nman extended to near a thousand years; of the destruction of the world\nby a deluge; of the arbitrary choice of one people as the favourites of\nHeaven, and that people the countrymen of the author; of their\ndeliverance from bondage by prodigies the most astonishing imaginable. I\ndesire anyone to lay his hand upon his heart, and, after a serious\nconsideration, declare whether he thinks that the falsehood of such a\nbook, supported by such a testimony, would be more extraordinary and\nmiraculous than the miracles it relates, which is, however, necessary to\nmake it be received according to the measures of probability above\nestablished.\n\n\n_III.--Of a Particular Providence and of a Future State_\n\nI was lately engaged in conversation with a friend who loves sceptical\nparadoxes. To my expression of the opinion that a wise magistrate can\njustly be jealous of certain tenets of philosophy such as those of\nEpicurus, which, denying a divine existence, and consequently a\nProvidence and a future state, seem to loosen the ties of morality, he\nreplied as follows.\n\n\"If Epicurus had been accused before the people he could easily have\ndefended his cause and proved his principles of philosophy to be as\nsalutary as those of his adversaries. And, if you please, I shall\nsuppose myself Epicurus for a moment, and make you stand for the\nAthenian people.\"\n\nEPICURUS: I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly\nwhat I maintained in my school, and I find myself impeached by furious\nantagonists instead of reasoning with calm and dispassionate inquirers.\n\nBy my accusers it is acknowledged that the chief or sole argument for a\ndivine existence (which I never questioned) is derived from the order of\nnature; where there appear such marks of intelligence and design that\nyou think it extravagant to assign for its cause either chance or the\nblind and unguided force of matter. You allow that this is an argument\ndrawn from effects to causes. From the order of the work you infer that\nthere must have been project and forethought in the workman. If you\ncannot make out this point, you allow that your conclusion fails, and\nyou pretend not to establish the conclusion in a greater latitude than\nthe phenomena of nature will justify. These are your concessions. I\ndesire you to mark the consequences.\n\nWhen we infer any particular cause from an effect we must proportion the\none to the other, and can never be allowed to ascribe to the cause any\nqualities but what are sufficient to produce the effect. A body of ten\nounces raised in a scale may serve as a proof that the counterbalancing\nweight exceeds ten ounces, but never that it exceeds a hundred.\n\nThe same rule holds whether the cause assigned be brute, unconscious\nmatter or a rational, intelligent being. If the cause be known only by\nthe effect, we never ought to ascribe to it any qualities beyond what\nare precisely requisite to produce the effect. Nor can we return back\nfrom the cause and infer other effects from it beyond those by which\nalone it is known to us.\n\nAllowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the existence, or\norder, of the universe, it follows that they possess that precise degree\nof power, intelligence, and benevolence which appears in their\nworkmanship; but we can never be allowed to mount up from the universe,\nthe effect, to Jupiter, the cause, and then descend downwards to infer\nany new effect from that cause. The knowledge of the cause being derived\nsolely from the effect, they must be exactly adjusted to each other; and\nthe one can never refer to anything farther.\n\nI deny a Providence, you say, and Supreme Governor of the world, who\nguides the course of events and punishes the vicious with infamy and\ndisappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and success in all\ntheir undertakings. But surely I deny not the course of events itself,\nwhich lies open to everyone's inquiry and examination. I acknowledge\nthat, in the present order of things, virtue is attended with more peace\nof mind than vice, and meets with a more favourable reception from the\nworld. I am sensible that, according to the past experience of mankind,\nfriendship is the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only\nsource of tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the\nvirtuous and the vicious life, but am sensible that, to a well-disposed\nmind, every advantage is on the side of the former. And what can you say\nmore, allowing all your suppositions and reasonings?\n\n\n\n\nIMMANUEL KANT\n\nThe Critique of Pure Reason\n\n     Immanuel Kant, the most celebrated of German metaphysicians, was\n     born at Koenigsberg on April 22, 1724, and died on February 12,\n     1804. Taking his degree at Koenigsberg, he speedily entered on a\n     professional career, which he quietly and strenuously pursued for\n     over thirty years. Though his lectures were limited to the topics\n     with which he was concerned as professor of logic and philosophy,\n     his versatility is evidenced by the fact that he was offered the\n     chair of poetry, which he declined. His lasting reputation began\n     with the publication, in 1781, of his wonderful \"Critique of Pure\n     Reason\" (\"Kritik der reinen Vernunft\"). Within twelve years of its\n     appearance it was expounded in all the leading universities, and\n     even penetrated into the schools of the Church of Rome. Kant was\n     the first European thinker who definitely grasped the conception of\n     a critical philosophy, though he was doubtless aided by the\n     tendency of Locke's psychology. He did much to counteract the\n     sceptical influence of Hume. The main object of his \"Critique of\n     Pure Reason\" is to separate the necessary and universal in the\n     realm of knowledge from the merely experimental or empirical. This\n     little version of Kant's celebrated work has been prepared from the\n     German text.\n\n\n_I.--Knowledge Transcendental: AEsthetic_\n\nExperience is something of which we are conscious. It is the first\nresult of our comprehension, but it is not the limit of our\nunderstanding, since it stimulates our faculty of reason, but does not\nsatisfy its desire for knowledge. While all our knowledge may begin with\nsensible impressions or experience, there is an element in it which does\nnot rise from this source, but transcends it. That knowledge is\ntranscendental which is occupied not so much with mere outward objects\nas with our manner of knowing those objects, that is to say, with our _a\npriori_ concepts of them. All our knowledge is either _a priori_ or _a\nposteriori_. That is _a posteriori_ knowledge which is derived from\nsensible experience as including sensible impressions or states; while\n_a priori_ knowledge is that which is not thus gained, but consists of\nwhatever is universal or necessary. A complete \"Transcendental\nPhilosophy\" would be a systematic exposition of all that is _a priori_\nin human knowledge, or of \"all the principles of pure reason.\" But a\n\"Critique of Pure Reason\" cannot include all this. It can do little more\nthan deal with the synthetic element or quality in _a priori_ knowledge,\nas distinguished from the analytic element.\n\nWe perceive objects through our sensibility which furnishes us, as our\nfaculty of receptivity, with those intuitions that become translated\ninto thought by means of the understanding. This is the origin of our\nconceptions, or ideas. I denominate as _matter_ that which in a\nphenomenon corresponds to sensation; while I call _form_ that quality of\nmatter which presents it in a perceived order. Only matter is presented\nto our minds _a posteriori_; as to form, this must inevitably exist in\nthe mind _a priori_, and therefore it can be considered apart from all\nsensation.\n\nPure representation, entirely apart from sensation, in a transcendental\nsignification, forms the pure intuition of the mind, existing in it as a\nmere form of sensibility. Transcendental aesthetic is the science of all\nthe principles of sensibility. But transcendental logic is the science\nof the principles of pure thought. In studying the former we shall find\nthat there are two pure forms of sensuous intuition, namely, space and\ntime.\n\nAre space and time actual entities? Or are they only relations of\nthings? Space is simply the form of all the phenomena of external\nsenses; that is, it is the subjective condition of the sensibility under\nwhich alone external intuition is possible. Thus, the form of all\nphenomena may exist _a priori_ in the soul as a pure intuition previous\nto all experience. So we can only speak of space and of extended\nobjects from the standpoint of human reason. But when we have abstracted\nall the forms perceived by our sensibility, there remains a pure\nintuition which we call space. Therefore our discussion teaches us the\nobjective validity of space with regard to all that can appear before us\nexternally as an object; but equally the subjective ideality of space,\nwith regard to things if they are considered in themselves by our\nreason, that is, without taking into account the nature of our\nsensibility.\n\nTime is not empirically conceived of; that is, it is not experimentally\napprehended. Time is a necessary representation on which all intuitions\nare dependent, and the representation of time to the mind is thus given\n_a priori._ In it alone can phenomena be apprehended. These may vanish,\nbut time cannot be put aside.\n\nTime is not something existing by itself independently, but is the\nformal condition _a priori_ of all phenomena. If we deduct our own\npeculiar sensibility, then the idea of time disappears indeed, because\nit is not inherent in any object, but only in the subject which\nperceives that object. Space and time are essential _a priori_ ideas,\nand they are the necessary conditions of all particular perceptions.\nFrom the latter and their objects we can, in imagination, without\nexception, abstract; from the former we cannot.\n\nSpace and time are therefore to be regarded as the necessary _a priori_\npre-conditions of the possibility and reality of all phenomena. It is\nclear that transcendental aesthetic can obtain only these two elements,\nspace and time, because all other concepts belong to the senses and\npre-suppose experience, and so imply something empirical. For example,\nthe concept of motion pre-supposes something moving, but in space\nregarded alone there is nothing that moves; therefore, whatever moves\nmust be recognised by experience, and is a purely empirical datum.\n\n\n_II.--Transcendental Logic_\n\nOur knowledge is derived from two fundamental sources of the\nconsciousness. The first is the faculty of receptivity of impressions;\nthe second, the faculty of cognition of an object by means of these\nimpressions or representations, this second power being sometimes styled\nspontaneity of concepts. By the first, an object is given to us; by the\nsecond it is thought of in the mind. Thus intuition and concepts\nconstitute the elements of our entire knowledge, for neither intuition\nwithout concepts, nor concepts without intuition, can yield any\nknowledge whatever. Hence arise two branches of science, aesthetic and\nlogic, the former being the science of the rules of sensibility; the\nlatter, the science of the rules of the understanding.\n\nLogic can be treated in two directions: either as logic of the general\nuse of the understanding, or of some particular use of it. The former\nincludes the rules of thought, without which there can be no use of the\nunderstanding; but it has no regard to the objects to which the\nunderstanding is applied. This is elementary logic. But logic of the\nunderstanding in some particular use includes rules of correct thought\nin relation to special classes of objects; and this latter logic is\ngenerally taught in schools as preliminary to the study of sciences.\n\nThus, general logic takes no account of any of the contents of\nknowledge, but is limited simply to the consideration of the forms of\nthought. But we are constrained by anticipation to form an idea of a\nlogical science which has to deal not only with pure thought, but also\nhas to determine the origin, validity, and extent of the knowledge to\nwhich intuitions relate, and this science might be styled transcendental\nlogic.\n\nIn transcendental aesthetic we isolated the faculty of sensibility. So in\ntranscendental logic we isolate the understanding, concentrating our\nconsideration on that element of thought which has its source simply in\nthe understanding. But transcendental logic must be divided into\ntranscendental analytic and transcendental dialectic. The former is a\nlogic of truth, and is intended to furnish a canon of criticism. When\nlogic is used to judge not analytically, but to judge synthetically of\nobjects in general, it is called transcendental dialectic, which serves\nas a protection against sophistical fallacy.\n\n\nANALYTIC OF PURE CONCEPTS\n\nThe understanding may be defined as the faculty of judging. The function\nof thought in a judgment can be brought under four heads, each with\nthree subdivisions.\n\n1. Quantity of judgments: Universal, particular, singular.\n\n2. Quality: Affirmative, negative, infinite.\n\n3. Relation: Categorical, hypothetical, disjunctive.\n\n4. Modality: Problematical, assertory, apodictic [above contradiction].\n\nIf we examine each of these forms of judgment we discover that in every\none is involved some peculiar idea which is its essential\ncharacteristic. Thus, a singular judgment, in which the subject of\ndiscourse is a single object, involves obviously the special idea of\noneness, or unity. A particular judgment, relating to several objects,\nimplies the idea of plurality, and discriminates between the several\nobjects. Now, the whole list of these ideas will constitute the complete\nclassification of the fundamental conceptions of the understanding,\nregarded as the faculty which judges, and these may be called\ncategories.\n\n1. Of Quantity: Unity, plurality, totality.\n\n2. Of Quality: Reality, negation, limitation.\n\n3. Of Relation: Substance and accident, cause and effect, action and\nreaction.\n\n4. Of Modality: Possibility--impossibility, existence--non-existence,\nnecessity--contingence.\n\nThese, then, are the fundamental, primary, or native conceptions of the\nunderstanding, which flow from, or constitute the mechanism of, its\nnature; are inseparable from its activity; and are hence, for human\nthought, universal and necessary, or _a priori_. These categories are\n\"pure\" conceptions of the understanding, inasmuch as they are\nindependent of all that is contingent in sense.\n\n\nTRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC\n\nA distinction is usually made between what is immediately known and what\nis only inferred. It is immediately known that in a figure bounded by\nthree straight lines there are three angles, but that these angles\ntogether are equal to two right angles is only inferred. In every\nsyllogism is first a fundamental proposition; secondly, another deduced\nfrom it; and, thirdly, the consequence.\n\nIn the use of pure reason its concepts, or transcendental ideas, aim at\nunity of all conditions of thought. So all transcendental ideas may be\narranged in three classes; the first containing the unity of the\nthinking subject; the second, the unity of the conditions of phenomena\nobserved; the third, the unity of the objective conditions of thought.\n\nThis classification becomes clear if we note that the thinking subject\nis the object-matter of psychology; while the system of all phenomena\n(the world) is the object-matter of cosmology; and the Being of all\nBeings (God) is the object-matter of theology.\n\nHence we perceive that pure reason supplies three transcendental ideas,\nnamely, the idea of a transcendental science of the soul (_psychologia\nrationalis_); of a transcendental science of the world (_cosmologia\nrationalis_); and, lastly, of a transcendental science of God\n(_theologia transcendentalis_). It is the glory of transcendental\nidealism that by it the mind ascends in the series of conditions till\nit reaches the unconditioned, that is, the principles. We thus progress\nfrom our knowledge of self to a knowledge of the world, and through it\nto a knowledge of the Supreme Being.\n\n\n_III.--The Antinomies of Pure Reason_\n\nTranscendental reason attempts to reconcile conflicting assertions.\nThere are four of these antinomies, or conflicts.\n\nFIRST ANTINOMY. Thesis. The world has a beginning in time, and is also\nlimited in regard to space. Proof. Were the world without a\ntime-beginning we should have to ascribe a present limit to that which\ncan have no limit, which is absurd. Again, were the world not limited in\nregard to space, it must be conceived as an infinite whole, yet it is\nimpossible thus to conceive it.\n\nAntithesis. The world has neither beginning in time, nor limit in space,\nbut in both regards is infinite. Proof. The world must have existed from\neternity, or it could never exist at all. If we imagine it had a\nbeginning, we must imagine an anterior time when nothing was. But in\nsuch time the origin of anything is impossible. At no moment could any\ncause for such a beginning exist.\n\nSECOND ANTINOMY. Thesis. Every composite substance in the world is\ncomposed of simple parts. This thesis seems scarcely to require proof.\nNo one can deny that a composite substance consists of parts, and that\nthese parts, if themselves composite, must consist of others less\ncomposite, till at length we come, by compulsion of thought, to the\nconception of the absolutely simple as that wherein the substantial\nconsists.\n\nAntithesis. No composite thing in the world consists of simple parts,\nand nothing simple exists anywhere in the world. Proof. Each simple part\nimplied in the thesis must be in space. But this condition is a\npositive disproof of their possibility. A simple substance would have\nto occupy a simple portion of space; but space has no simple parts. The\nsupposition of such a part is the supposition, not of space, but of the\nnegation of space. A simple substance, in existing and occupying any\nportion of space, must contain a real multiplicity of parts external to\neach other, _i.e._, it must contradict its own nature, which is absurd.\n\nTHIRD ANTINOMY. Thesis. The causality of natural law is insufficient for\nthe explanation of all the phenomena of the universe. For this end\nanother kind of causality must be assumed, whose attribute is freedom.\nProof. All so-called natural causes are effects of preceding causes,\nforming a regressive series of indefinite extent, with no first\nbeginning. So we never arrive at an adequate cause of any phenomenon.\nYet natural law has for its central demand that nothing shall happen\nwithout such a cause.\n\nAntithesis. All events in the universe occur under the exclusive\noperation of natural laws, and there is no such thing as freedom. Proof.\nThe idea of a free cause is an absurdity. For it contradicts the very\nlaw of causation itself, which demands that every event shall be in\norderly sequence with some preceding event. Now, free causation is such\nan event, being the active beginning of a series of phenomena. Yet the\naction of the supposed free cause must be imagined as independent of all\nconnection with any previous event. It is without law or reason, and\nwould be the blind realisation of confusion and lawlessness. Therefore\ntranscendental freedom is a violation of the law of causation, and is in\nconflict with all experience. We must of necessity acquiesce in the\nexplanation of all phenomena by the operation of natural law, and thus\ntranscendental freedom must be pronounced a fallacy.\n\nFOURTH ANTINOMY. Thesis. Some form of absolutely necessary existence\nbelongs to the world, whether as its part or as its cause. Proof.\nPhenomenal existence is serial, mutable, consistent. Every event is\ncontingent upon a preceding condition. The conditioned pre-supposes, for\nits complete explanation, the unconditioned. The whole of past time,\nsince it contains the whole of all past conditions, must of necessity\ncontain the unconditioned or also \"absolutely necessary.\"\n\nAntithesis. There is no absolutely necessary existence, whether in the\nworld as its part, or outside of it as its cause. Proof. Of\nunconditionally necessary existence within the world there can be none.\nThe assumption of a first unconditioned link in the chain of cosmical\nconditions is self-contradictory. For such link or cause, being in time,\nmust be subject to the law of all temporal existence, and so be\ndetermined--contrary to the original assumption--by another link or\ncause before it.\n\nThe supposition of an absolutely necessary cause of the world, existing\nwithout the world, also destroys itself. For, being outside the world,\nit is not in time. And yet, to act as a cause, it must be in time. This\nsupposition is therefore absurd.\n\nThe theses in these four antinomies constitute the teaching of\nphilosophical dogmatism. The antitheses constitute doctrines of\nphilosophical empiricism.\n\n\n_IV.--Criticism of the Chief Arguments for the Existence of God_\n\nThe ontological argument aims at asserting the possibility of conceiving\nthe idea of an _ens realissimum_, of being possessed of all reality. But\nthe idea of existence and the fact of existence are two very different\nthings. Whatever I conceive, or sensibly imagine, I necessarily conceive\nas though it were existing. Though my pocket be empty, I may conceive it\nto contain a \"hundred thalers.\" If I conceive them there, I can only\nconceive them as actually existing there. But, alas, the fact that I am\nunder this necessity of so conceiving by no means carries with it a\nnecessity that the coins should really be in my pocket. That can only be\ndetermined by experience.\n\nThe cosmological argument contends that if anything exists, there must\nalso exist an absolutely necessary being. Now, at least I myself exist.\nHence there exists an absolutely necessary being. The argument coincides\nwith that by which the thesis of the fourth antinomy is supposed. The\nobjections to it are summed up in the proof of the antithesis of the\nfourth antimony. As soon as we have recognised the true conception of\ncausality, we have already transcended the sensible world.\n\nThe physico-theological or teleological argument is what is often styled\nthe argument from design. It proceeds not from general, but particular\nexperience. Nature discloses manifold signs of wise intention and\nharmonious order, and these are held to betoken a divine designer. This\nargument deserves always to be treated with respect. It is the oldest\nand clearest of all proofs, and best adapted to convince the reason of\nthe mass of mankind. It animates us in our study of nature. And it were\nnot only a cheerless, but an altogether vain task to attempt to detract\nfrom the persuasive authority of this proof. There is nought to urge\nagainst its rationality and its utility.\n\nAll arguments, however, to prove the existence of God must, in order to\nbe theoretically valid, start from specifically and exclusively sensible\nor phenomenal data, must employ only the conceptions of pure physical\nscience, and must end with demonstrating in sensible experience an\nobject congruous with, or corresponding to, the idea of God. But this\nrequirement cannot be met, for, scientifically speaking, the existence\nof an absolutely necessary God cannot be either proved or disproved.\nHence room is left for faith in any moral proofs that may present\nthemselves to us, apart from science. With this subject ethics, the\nscience of practice or of practical reason, will have to deal.\n\n\n\n\nThe Critique of Practical Reason\n\n     Kant's \"Critique of Practical Reason\" (\"Kritik der praktischen\n     Vernunft\"), published in 1788, is one of the most striking\n     disquisitions in the whole range of German metaphysical literature.\n     One of its paragraphs has alone sufficed to render it famous. The\n     passage concerning the starry heavens and the moral law as the two\n     transcendently overwhelming phenomena of the universe is, perhaps,\n     more frequently quoted than any other written by a German author.\n     This is the treatise which forms the central focus of Kant's\n     thinking. It stands midway between the \"Critique of Pure Reason\"\n     and the \"Critique of Judgment.\" Herein Kant takes up the position\n     of a vindicator of the truth of Christianity, approaching his proof\n     of its validity and authority by first establishing positive\n     affirmations of the immortality of the soul and the existence of\n     God. It also includes a theory of happiness, and an argument\n     concerning the _summum bonum_ of life, the special aim being to\n     demonstrate that man should not simply seek to be happy, but\n     should, by absolute obedience to the moral law, seek to become\n     worthy of that happiness which God can bestow.\n\n\n_I.--Analytic of Practical Reason_\n\nPractical principles are propositions containing a general determination\nof the will. They are maxims, or subjective propositions, when\nexpressing the will of an individual; objective, when they are valid\nexpressions of the will of rational beings generally.\n\nPractical principles which pre-suppose an object of desire are\nempirical, or experimental, and supply no practical laws. Reason, in the\nscope of a practical law, influences the will not by the medium of\npleasure or pain. All rational beings necessarily wish for happiness,\nbut they are not all agreed either as to the means to attain it, or as\nto the objects of their enjoyment of it. Thus, subjective practical\nprinciples can only be reckoned as maxims, never as law.\n\nA rational being ought not to conceive that his individual maxims are\ncalculated to constitute universal laws, and to become the basis of\nuniversal legislation. To discover any law which would bring all men\ninto harmony is absolutely impossible.\n\nOne of the problems of practical reason is to find the law which can\nnecessarily determine the will, assuming that the will is free. The\nsolution of this problem is to be found in action according to the moral\nlaw. We should so act that the maxim of our will can always be valid as\na principle of universal legislation. Experience shows how the moral\nconsciousness determines freedom of the will.\n\nSuppose that someone affirms of his inclination for sensual pleasure\nthat he cannot possibly resist temptation to indulgence. If a gallows\nwere erected at the place where he is tempted, on which he should be\nhanged immediately after satiating his passions, would he not be able to\ncontrol his inclination? We need not long doubt what would be his\nanswer.\n\nBut ask him, if his sovereign commanded him to bear false witness\nagainst an honourable man, under penalty of death, whether he would hold\nit possible to conquer his love of life. He might not venture to say\nwhat he would choose, but he would certainly admit that it is possible\nto make choice. Thus, he judges that he can choose to do a thing because\nhe is conscious of moral obligation, and he thus recognises for himself\na freedom of will of which, but for the moral law, he would never have\nbeen conscious.\n\nWe obtain the exact opposite of the principle of morality if we adopt\nthe principle of personal private happiness as the determining motive of\nthe will. This contradiction is not only logical, but also practical.\nFor morality would be totally destroyed were not the voice of reason as\nclear and penetrating in relation to the will, even to the most ordinary\nmen.\n\nIf one of your friends, after bearing false witness against you,\nattempted to justify his base conduct by enumerating the advantages\nwhich he had thus secured for himself and the happiness he had gained,\nand by declaring that thus he performed a true human duty, you would\neither laugh him to scorn or turn from him in horror. And yet, if a man\nacts for his own selfish ends, you have not the slightest objection to\nsuch behaviour.\n\n\nMORALITY AND HAPPINESS\n\nThe maxim of self-love simply advises; the law of morality commands.\nThere is a vast difference between what we are advised and what we are\nobliged to do. No practical laws can be based on the principle of\nhappiness, even on that of universal happiness, for the knowledge of\nthis happiness rests on merely empirical or experimental data, every\nman's ideas of it being conditioned only on his individual opinion.\nTherefore, this principle of happiness cannot prescribe rules for all\nrational beings.\n\nBut the moral law demands prompt obedience from everyone, and thus even\nthe most ordinary intelligence can discern what should be done. Everyone\nhas power to comply with the dictates of morality, but even with regard\nto any single aim it is not easy to satisfy the vague precept of\nhappiness. Nothing could be more absurd than a command that everyone\nshould make himself happy, for one never commands anyone to do what he\ninevitably wishes to do. Finally, in the idea of our practical reason,\nthere is something which accompanies the violation of a moral\nlaw--namely, its demerit, with the consciousness that punishment is a\nnatural consequence. Therefore, punishment should be connected in the\nidea of practical reason with crime, as a consequence of the crime, by\nthe principles of moral legislation.\n\n\nANALYSIS OF PRINCIPLES\n\nThe practical material principles of determination constituting the\nbasis of morality may be thus classified.\n\n_1. Subjective_\n\nExternal: Education; the civil constitution. Internal: Physical feeling;\nmoral feeling.\n\n_2. Objective_\n\nInternal: Perfection. External: Will of God.\n\nThe subjective elements are all experimental, or empirical, and cannot\nsupply the universal principle of morality, though they are expounded in\nthat sense by such writers as Montaigne, Mandeville, Epicurus, and\nHutcheson.\n\nBut the objective elements, as enunciated and expounded by Wolf and the\nStoics, and by Crusius and other theological moralists, are founded on\nreason, for absolute perfection as a quality of things (that is, God\nHimself) can only be thought of by rational concepts.\n\nThe conception of perfection in a practical sense is the adequacy of a\nthing for various ends. As a human quality (and so internal) this is\nsimply talent, and what completes it is skill. But supreme perfection in\nsubstance, that is, God Himself, and therefore external (considered\npractically), is the adequacy of this being for all purposes. All these\nprinciples above classified are material, and so can never furnish the\nsupreme moral law. For even the Divine will can supply a motive in the\nhuman mind because of the expectation of happiness from it.\n\nTherefore, the formal practical principle of the pure reason insists\nthat the mere form of a universal legislation must constitute the\nultimate determining principle of the will. Here is the only possible\npractical principle which is sufficient to furnish categorical\nimperatives, that is, practical laws which make action a duty.\n\nIt follows from this analytic that pure reason can be practical. It can\ndetermine the will independently of all merely experimental elements.\n\nThere is a remarkable contrast between the working of the pure\nspeculative reason and that of the pure practical reason. In the\nformer--as was shown in the treatise on that subject--a pure, sensible\nintuition of time and space made knowledge possible, though only of\nobjects of the senses.\n\nOn the contrary, the moral law brings before us a fact absolutely\ninexplicable from any of the data of the world of sense. And the entire\nrange of our theoretical use of reason indicates a pure world of\nunderstanding, which even positively determines it, and enables us to\nknow something of it--namely, a law.\n\nWe must observe the distinction between the laws of a system of nature\nto which the will is subject, and of a system of nature which is subject\nto the will. In the former, the objects cause the ideas which determine\nthe will; in the latter, the objects are caused by the will. Hence,\ncausality of the will has its determining principle exclusively in the\nfaculty of pure reason, which may, therefore, also be called a pure\npractical reason.\n\nThe moral law is a law of the causality through freedom, and therefore\nof the possibility of a super-sensible system of nature. It determines\nthe will by imposing on its maxim the condition of a universal\nlegislative form, and thus it is able for the first time to impart\npractical reality to reason, which otherwise would continue to be\ntranscendent when seeking to proceed speculatively with its ideas.\n\nThus the moral law induces a stupendous change. It changes the\ntranscendent use of reason into the immanent use. And in result reason\nitself becomes, by its ideas, an efficient cause in the field of\nexperience.\n\n\nHUME AND SCEPTICISM\n\nIt may be said of David Hume that he initiated the attack on pure\nreason. My own labours in the investigation of this subject were\noccasioned by his sceptical teaching, for his assault made them\nnecessary. He argued that without experience it is impossible to know\nthe difference between one thing and another; that is, we can know _a\npriori_, and, therefore, the notion of a cause is fictitious and\nillusory, arising only from the habit of observing certain things\nassociated with each in succession of connections.\n\nOn such principles we can never come to any conclusion as to causes and\neffects. We can never predict a consequence from any of the known\nattributes of things. We can never say of any event that it must\n_necessarily_ have followed from another; that is, that it must have had\nan antecedent cause. And we could never lay down a rule derived even\nfrom the greatest number of observations. Hence we must trust entirely\nto blind chance, abolishing all reason, and such a surrender establishes\nscepticism in an impregnable citadel.\n\nMathematics escaped Hume, because he considered that its propositions\nwere analytical, proceeding from one determination to another, by reason\nof identity contained in each. But this is not really so, for, on the\ncontrary, they are synthetical, the results depending ultimately on the\nassent of observers as witnesses to the universality of propositions. So\nHume's empiricism leads inevitably to scepticism even in this realm.\n\nMy investigations led me to the conclusion that the objects with which\nwe are familiar are by no means things in themselves, but are simply\nphenomena, connected in a certain way with experience. So that without\ncontradiction they cannot be separated from that connection. Only by\nthat experience can they be recognised. I was able to prove the\nobjective reality of the concept of cause in regard to objects of\nexperience, and to demonstrate its origin from pure understanding,\nwithout experimental or empirical sources.\n\nThus, I first destroyed the source of scepticism, and then the resulting\nscepticism itself. And thus was subverted the thorough doubt as to\nwhatever theoretic reason claims to perceive, as well as the claim of\nHume that the concept of causality involved something absolutely\nunthinkable.\n\n\nGOOD AND EVIL\n\nBy a concept of practical reason, I understand the representation to the\nmind of an object as an effect possible to be produced through freedom.\nThe only objects of practical reason are _good_ and _evil_. For by\n\"good\" we understand an object necessarily abhorred, the principle of\nreason actuating the mind in each case.\n\nIn the common use of language we uniformly distinguish between the\n\"good\" and the \"pleasant,\" the \"evil\" and the \"unpleasant,\" good and\nevil being judged by reason alone. The judgment on the relation, of\nmeans to ends certainly belongs to reason. But \"good\" or \"evil\" always\nimplies only a reference to the \"will,\" as resolved by the law of\nreason, to make something its object.\n\nThus good and evil properly relate to actions, not to personal\nsensations. So, if anything is to be reckoned simply good or evil, it\ncan only be so estimated by the way of acting. Hence, only the maxim of\nthe will, and consequently the person himself, can be called good or\nevil, not the thing itself.\n\nThe Stoic was right, even though he might be laughed at, who during\nviolent attacks of gout exclaimed, \"Pain, I will never admit that thou\nart an evil!\" What he felt was indeed what we call a bad thing; but he\nhad no reason to admit that any evil attached thereby to himself, for\nthe pain did not in the least detract from his personal worth, but only\nfrom that of his condition. If a single lie had been on his conscience\nit would have humiliated his soul; but pain seemed only to elevate it,\nwhen he was not conscious of having deserved it as a punishment for any\nunjust deed.\n\nThe rule of judgment subject to the laws of pure practical reason is\nthis: Ask yourself whether if the action you propose were to happen by a\nnatural system of law, of which you were yourself a part, you could\nregard it as possible by your own will? In fact, everyone does decide by\nthis rule whether actions are morally good or evil.\n\n\n_II.--Dialectic of Practical Reason_\n\n\nTHE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL\n\nPure practical reason postulates the immortality of the soul, for reason\nin the pure and practical sense aims at the perfect good (_summum\nbonum_), and this perfect good is only possible on the supposition of\nthe soul's immortality. It is the moral law which determines the will,\nand, in this will, the perfect harmony of the mind with the moral law,\nis the supreme condition of the _summum bonum_. The principle of the\nmoral destination of our nature--that only by endless progress can we\ncome into full harmony with the moral law--is of the greatest use, not\nonly for fortifying the speculative reason, but also with respect to\nreligion. In default of this, either the moral law is degraded from its\nholiness, being represented as indulging our convenience, or else men\nstrain after an unattainable aim, hoping to gain absolute holiness of\nwill, thus losing themselves in fanatical theosophic dreams utterly\ncontradicting self-knowledge.\n\nFor a rational, but finite, being the only possibility is an endless\nprogression from the lower to the higher degrees of perfection. The\nInfinite Being, to whom the time-condition is nothing, sees in this\nendless succession the perfect harmony with the moral law.\n\n\nTHE EXISTENCE OF GOD\n\nThe pure practical reason must also postulate the existence of God as\nthe necessary condition of the attainment of the _summum bonum_. As the\nperfect good can only be promoted by accordance of the will with the\nmoral law, so also this _summum bonum_ is possible only through the\nsupremacy of an Infinite Being possessed of causality harmonising with\nmorality. But the postulate of the highest derived good (sometimes\ndenominated the best world) coincides with the postulate of a highest\noriginal good, or of the existence of God.\n\nWe now perceive why the Greeks could never solve their problem of the\npossibility of the _summum bonum_, because they made the freedom of the\nhuman will the only and all-sufficient ground of happiness, imagining\nthere was no need for the existence of God for that end. Christianity\nalone affords an idea of the _summum bonum_ which answers fully to the\nrequirement of practical reason. That idea is the Kingdom of God.\n\nThe holiness which the Christian law requires makes essential an\ninfinite progress. But just for that very reason it justifies in man the\nhope of endless existence. And it is only from an Infinite Supreme\nBeing, morally perfect, holy, good, and with an omnipotent will, that we\ncan hope, by accord with His will, to attain the _summum bonum_, which\nthe moral law enjoins on us as our duty to seek ever to attain.\n\nThe moral law does not enjoin on us to render ourselves happy, but\ninstructs us how to become worthy of happiness. Morality must never be\nregarded as a doctrine of happiness, or direction how to become happy,\nits province being to inculcate the rational condition of happiness, not\nthe means of attaining it. God's design in creating the world is not\nprimarily the happiness of the rational beings in it, but the _summum\nbonum_, which super-adds another condition to that desire of human\nbeings, namely, the condition of deserving such happiness. That is to\nsay, the morality of rational beings is a condition which alone includes\nthe rule by observing which they can hope to participate in happiness at\nthe hand of an all-wise Creator.\n\nThe highest happiness can only be conceived as possible under conditions\nharmonising with the divine holiness. Thus they are right who make the\nglory of God the chief end of creation. For beyond all else that can be\nconceived, that glorifies God which is the most estimable thing in the\nwhole world, honour for His command and obedience to His law, when to\nthis is added His glorious design to crown so beauteous an order of\nthings with happiness corresponding.\n\n\nCONCLUSION\n\nTwo things fill the mind with ever new and increasing wonder and\nawe--the starry heavens above me, and the moral law within me. I need\nnot search for them, and vaguely guess concerning them, as if they were\nveiled in darkness or hidden in the infinite altitude. I see them before\nme, and link them immediately with the consciousness of my existence.\nThe former begins from the spot I occupy in the outer world of sense,\nand enlarges my connection with it to a boundless extent with worlds\nupon worlds and systems of systems.\n\nThe second begins from my invisible self, my personality, and places me\nin a truly infinite world traceable only by the understanding, with\nwhich I perceive I am in a universal and necessary connection, as I am\nalso thereby with all those visible worlds.\n\nThis view infinitely elevates my value as an intelligence by my\npersonality, in which the moral law reveals to me a life independent of\nthe animal and even the whole material world, and reaching by destiny\ninto the infinite.\n\nBut though admiration may stimulate inquiry, it cannot compensate for\nthe want of it. The contemplation of the world, beginning with the most\nmagnificent spectacle possible, ended in astrology; and morality,\nbeginning with the noblest attribute of human nature, ended in\nsuperstition. But after reason was applied to careful examination of the\nphenomena of nature a clear and unchangeable insight was secured into\nthe system of the world. We may entertain the hope of a like good result\nin treating of the moral capacities of our nature by the help of the\nmoral judgment of reason.\n\n\n\n\nGEORGE HENRY LEWES\n\nA History of Philosophy\n\n     George Henry Lewes, born in London on April 18, 1817, was the\n     grandson of a famous Covent Garden comedian. As an actor,\n     philosopher, novelist, critic, dramatist, journalist, man of\n     science, Lewes played many parts in the life of his time, and some\n     of them he played very well. George Eliot owed him a great deal; he\n     turned her genius away from pure speculation, and directed it to\n     its true province--fiction. Lewes was, in fact, an excellent\n     critic, and it is by his splendid critical work, the \"Biographical\n     History of Philosophy,\" that he is now best remembered. In this\n     remarkable book, which appeared in 1845-46, Lewes the novelist and\n     the journalist collaborates with Lewes the philosopher and man of\n     science. He has the rare art of making an abstruse subject clear\n     and attractive; he does not give a dry summary of the ideas of the\n     great thinkers, but depicts the living man and relates his way of\n     life to his way of thinking. The result is that in his hands\n     metaphysic becomes as interesting as history did in the hands of\n     Macaulay.\n\n\n_I.--The Early Thinkers_\n\nIt is the object of the present work to show how philosophy became a\npositive science; to indicate by what methods the human mind was enabled\nto conquer its present modicum of certain knowledge. The boldest and the\ngrandest speculations came first. Man needed the stimulus of some higher\nreward than that of merely tracing the laws of phenomena. Nothing but a\nsolution of the mystery of the universe could content him. Astronomy was\nderived from astrology: chemistry from alchemy, and physiology from\nauguries. The position occupied by philosophy in the history of mankind\nis that of the great initiative to positive science. It was the forlorn\nhope of mankind, and though it perished in its efforts, it did not\nperish without having led the way to victory.\n\nThales, who was born at Miletus, in Asia Minor, and flourished in 585\nB.C., is justly considered the father of Greek speculation. The step he\ntook was small but decisive. He opened the physiological inquiry into\nthe constitution of the universe. Seeing around him constant\ntransformations--birth and death, change of shape, of size, and of mode\nof being, he could not regard any one of these variable states of\nexistence as existence itself. He therefore asked, What is the beginning\nof things? Finding that all things were nourished by moisture, he\ndeclared that moisture was the principle of everything. He was mistaken,\nof course, but he was the first man to furnish a formula from which to\nreason deductively.\n\nAnaximenes (550 B.C.) pursued the method of Thales, but he was not\nconvinced of the truth of his master's doctrine. He thought that the air\nwas the prime, universal element, from which all things were produced\nand into which all things were resolved. Diogenes of Apollonia adopted\nthe idea of Anaximenes, but gave a deeper significance to it. The older\nthinker conceived the vital air as a kind of soul; the younger man\nconceived the soul as a kind of air--an invisible force, permeating and\nactuating everything. This attribution of intelligence to the primal\npower or matter was certainly a progress in speculation; but another\nline of thought was struck out by Anaximander of Miletus, who had been a\nfriend of Thales. He was passionately addicted to mathematics, and a\ngreat many inventions are ascribed to him; among others, the sun-dial\nand the geographical map.\n\nIn his view, any one single thing could not be all things, and in his\nfamous saying, \"The infinite is the origin of all things,\" he introduced\ninto metaphysics an abstract conception in place of the inadequate\nconcrete principles of Thales and his disciples. Pythagoras was a\ncontemporary of Anaximander, and, like him, one of the great founders of\nmathematics. He held that the only permanent reality in the cosmos was\nthe principle of order and harmony, which prevented the universe from\nbecoming a blank, unintelligible chaos; and he expressed this idea in\nhis mystic doctrine: \"Numbers are the cause of the material existence of\nthings.\" The movement which he spread by means of a vast, secret\nconfraternity ended, however, in a barren symbolism, and it is\nimpossible to trace what relation his strange theories of the\ntransmigration of souls and the music of the spheres have to his general\nsystem of thought.\n\nFar more influence on the progress of speculation was exercised by\nXenophanes of Colophon. Driven by the Persian invasion of 546 B.C. to\nearn his living as a wandering minstrel, he developed the ideas of\nAnaximander, and founded the school of great philosophic poets, to which\nParmenides, Empedocles and Lucretius belong. He is the grand monotheist,\nand he has published his doctrines in his verses:\n\nThere is one God alone, the greatest of spirits and mortals,\nNeither in body to mankind resembling, neither in ideas.\n\nShelley's line: \"The One remains, the Many change and pass,\" sums up the\nteaching of the line of thinkers which culminated in Plato. In their\nview, knowledge derived from the senses was fallacious because it\ntouched only the diverse and changing appearances of things; absolute\nknowledge of the one abiding spiritual reality could, they held, only be\nobtained by the exercise of spiritual faculty of reason, which, unlike\nthe animal power of sense, is the same in all men. One of the\nphilosophers of this school, Zeno of Elea, was the inventor of the\ndialectic method of logic, which Socrates and Plato used with so\ntremendous an effect.\n\nAnaxagoras, however, attempted to reconcile the evidence of the sense\nwith the dictates of the reason. He was the first philosopher to settle\nin Athens, and Pericles, Euripides, and Socrates were among his pupils.\nHe was extraordinarily modern in many of his ideas. He held that the\nmatter of knowledge was derived through the senses, but that reason\nregulated and verified it, and he carried this dualism into his\nconception of the universe, which he represented as a manifestation of a\nDivine intelligence, acting through invariable laws, but in no way\nconfused with the matter acted on.\n\nHis successor, Democritus, adopted his theory of the origin of\nknowledge, and by applying it to the problem of the One and the Many,\nproduced the most striking of ancient anticipations of modern science.\nHe regarded the world as something made up of invisible particles, each\nabsolutely similar to the other; these formed the essential unity which\ncould be grasped only by the reason, but by their various combinations\nand arrangements they brought about the apparent multiplicity of objects\nwhich the senses perceived. Such was the foundation of the atomic theory\nof Democritus. He conceived the atom as a centre of force, and not as a\nparticle having weight and material qualities. As, however, his\nhypothesis was purely a metaphysical one, it did not lead to any of the\ndiscoveries which have followed on the establishment of the modern\nscientific theory, which was arrived at in a different way, and has a\ndifferent signification. Democritus also threw out in vague outline the\nidea of gravitation. But this was not science: it was guess-work; it\nafforded no ground on which the fabric of verified knowledge could be\nerected, and no sure method of obtaining this knowledge.\n\n\n_II.--The School of Socrates_\n\nIt was against the vain and premature hypotheses of the physiologists of\nhis day that the greatest and noblest intellect in Greece revolted.\nSocrates was the knight-errant of philosophy.\n\nIt was his confessed aim and purpose to withdraw the mind from the\ncontemplation of the phenomena of nature, and fix it on its own\nphenomena. \"I have not leisure for physical speculations,\" he said, with\ncharacteristic irony, \"and I will tell you why: I am not yet able,\naccording to the Delphic inscription, to _know myself_, and it seems to\nme very ridiculous, while ignorant of myself, to inquire into what I am\nnot concerned in.\" Weary of disputes about the origin of the universe,\nhe turned to the one field in which the current method of abstract\nreasoning could be fruitfully applied--the field of ethics.\n\nLiving in an age of wild sophistry, he endeavoured to steady and\nenlighten the conscience of men by establishing right principles of\nconduct. His method of proceeding by definitions and analogy has been\nmisapplied, but in his hands it was a powerful instrument in discovering\nand marking out a new field of inquiry. His religious genius, the ideal\ncharacter of his ethics, and the heroic character of his life, have been\nhis great titles to fame, but it is his method which gives him his high\nposition in the history of philosophy.\n\nThe method of Socrates was adopted and enlarged by the most famous of\nall ancient writers. Aristocles, surnamed Plato (the broad-browed), was\na brilliant young Athenian aristocrat who turned from poetry to\nphilosophy on meeting, in his twentieth year, with Socrates. After\ntravelling abroad in search of knowledge, he returned to Athens and\nfounded his world-renowned Academy there in 387 B.C. With vast learning\nand puissant method, he created an influence which is not yet extinct\nPlato was the culminating point of Greek philosophy.\n\nIn his works all the various and conflicting tendencies of preceding\neras were collected under one method. This method was doubtless the\nmethod of Socrates, but much extended and improved. Socrates relied on\ndefinitions and analogical reasoning as the principles of investigation.\nPlato used these arts, but he added to them the more scientific\nprocesses of analysis, generalisation, and classification.\n\nIn regard to his system of thought, Plato was a realist. He believed\nthat ideas have a real existence, and that material things are only\ncopies of the realities existing in the ideal world. He held that\nbeauty, goodness, and wisdom are spiritual realities, from which all\nthings beautiful, good, and wise derive their existence.\n\nIn his philosophy the universe is divided into the celestial region of\nideas and the mundane region of material phenomena, answering to the\nmodern conception of heaven and earth. As the phenomena of matter are\nbut copies of ideas (not, as some suppose, the bodily realisation of\nthem), there arises a question: How do ideas become matter? Plato gives\ntwo different explanations. In the \"Republic\" he says that God, instead\nof perpetually creating individual things, created a distinct type\n(idea) for each thing, and from this type all objects of the class are\nmade. But in a later work, the \"Timaeus,\" Plato takes another view of the\norigin of the world. Types are conceived as having existed from all\neternity, and God, in fashioning cosmos out of chaos, fashioned it after\nthe model of these eternal types.\n\nPlato's conception of heaven and earth as two distinct regions is\ncompleted by his conception of the double nature of the soul; or,\nrather, of two souls, one rational and the other sensitive. The\nsensitive soul awakens the divine reminiscences of the rational soul;\nand the rational soul, by detecting the One in the Many, preserves man\nfrom the scepticism inevitably resulting from mere sense-knowledge.\n\nAristotle, who was born in 384 B.C., was Plato's pupil. He, however,\ncompletely broke away from his master's theory. He maintained that\nindividual objects alone exist. But if only individual objects exist,\nonly by the senses can they be known; and if we have only\nsense-knowledge, how can we arrive at the general truths on which both\nphilosophy and science are founded? This was the problem which had led\nPlato to claim for ideas, or types of general truths, a higher origin\nthan the intermittent and varying data of the senses.\n\nAristotle held that it could be solved in a natural way without the\nconception of an ideal world. In his view, ideas were obtained by\ninduction. Sensation is the basis of all knowledge. But we have another\nfaculty besides that of sensation; we have memory. Having perceived many\nobjects, we remember our perceptions, and this enables us to discern\nwherein things differ and wherein they agree. Then, by means of the art\nof induction, we arrive at ideas. Aristotle's theory of induction is\nclearly explained by him: \"Experience furnishes the principles of every\nscience. Thus astronomy is grounded on observation. For if we were to\nobserve properly the phenomena of the heavens, we might demonstrate the\nlaws which regulate them. The same applies to other sciences.\" Had he\nalways held before his eyes this conception of science, he would have\nanticipated Bacon--he would have been the Father of Positive Science.\nBut he could not confine himself to experience, as there was not\nsufficient experience accumulated in his age from which to generalise\nwith any effect. So he turned to logic as an instrument for\ninvestigating the mystery of existence, and by bringing physics and\nmetaphysics together again, he paved the way for a new era--the era of\nscepticism.\n\nAll the wisdom of the ancient world was powerless against the sceptics.\nFaith in truth was extinct; faith in human nature was gone; philosophy\nwas impossible. And, though the influence of Socrates continued to be\nfelt in the field of ethics, the ethics of the Greeks were at best\nnarrow and egotistical. What a light was poured upon all questions of\nmorality by that one divine axiom, \"Love your enemy.\" No Greek ever\nattained the sublimity of such a point of view. Still, the progress made\nby the Greeks was immense, and they must ever occupy in the history of\nhumanity an honourable place.\n\n\n_III.--Philosophy and Science_\n\nFrancis Bacon is the father of experimental philosophy. He owes his\ntitle to his method. Many philosophers, ancient and modern, had\ncursorily referred to observation and experiment as furnishing the\nmaterials of physical knowledge; but no one before him had attempted to\nsystematise the true method of discovery.\n\nHe begins his great work by examining into the permanent causes of\nerror, as these were likely to be operative even after the reformation\nof science. For this reason he calls them idols, or false appearances\n(from the Greek, _eidolon_), and he divides them into four classes: the\nidols of the tribe, or the causes of error due to the general defects of\nthe human mind; the idols of the den, which spring from weaknesses\npeculiar to the character of the individual student; the idols of the\nforum, which arise out of the intercourse of society and the power that\nwords sometimes have of governing thought; and, finally, the idols of\nthe theatre, which men of great learning pursue when they follow the\nsystems of famous but mistaken thinkers.\n\nAfter this preliminary discussion, Bacon goes on to describe the methods\nof inductive science. The first step consists in preparing a history of\nthe phenomena to be explained in all their modifications and varieties.\nThis history must include not merely such facts as spontaneously offer\nthemselves, but all experiments instituted for the sake of discovery. It\nmust be composed with great care; the facts should be accurately related\nand distinctly arranged, and their authenticity diligently examined;\nthose that rest on doubtful evidence should not be rejected, but noted\nas uncertain, with the grounds of the judgment so formed. This last part\nof the method, says Bacon, is very necessary, for facts often appear\nincredible only because we are ill-informed, and they cease to seem\nmarvellous when our knowledge is further extended.\n\nWhen this record of facts, this \"natural history,\" is completed, an\nattempt may then be made to discover, by a comparison of the various\nfacts, the cause of the phenomena. Here it is of the utmost importance\nto bear in mind that all facts have not the same value. There are, as\nBacon points out, twenty-seven species of facts, and he concludes that\nin any science where facts cannot be tested by experiment there can be\nno conclusive evidence.\n\nThus it will be seen that Bacon's method was a system of specific rules.\nHe did not merely tell men to make observations and experiments; he\ntaught them how observations and experiments ought to be made.\n\nAs Bacon was the father of modern science, so Rene Descartes was the\nfather of modern philosophy. Born in 1596, and perplexed by the movement\nof scepticism produced by the Renaissance, the French thinker\nendeavoured to find some ground of certainty in the fact that he at\nleast knew of his own existence. Hence his famous saying: _Cogito, ergo\nsum_--\"I think, therefore I exist.\" Consciousness, said he, is the basis\nof all knowledge. The process then is simple: examine your\nconsciousness, and its clear replies will be science. Hence the vital\nportion of his system lies in this axiom: \"All clear ideas are true.\"\n\nThe fallacy in his system can be briefly exposed. Consciousness is, no\ndoubt, the ultimate ground of certainty of existence for _me_. But\nthough I am conscious of all that passes within myself, I am not\nconscious of what passes in anything not myself. All that I can possibly\nknow of anything not myself lies in its effects upon me. Any other ideas\nI may have in regard to the outside world are founded only on\ninferences, and directly I leave the ground of consciousness for the\nregion of inference my knowledge becomes questionable.\n\nIt was this defect in Cartesianism which Baruch Spinoza, the great\nJewish thinker of Amsterdam, set out to rectify. Spinoza asked himself:\nWhat was the reality which lies beneath all appearance? We see\neverywhere transformations perishable and perishing, yet there must be\nsomething beneath which is imperishable and immutable. What is it? In\nSpinoza's view, the absolute existence is God. All that exists, exists\nin and by God. Taking the words of St. Paul, \"In Him we live and move\nand have our being,\" as his motto, he undertook to trace the relations\nof the world to God and to man, and those of man to society.\n\nTo John Locke, born at Wrington, in Somerset, in 1632, the problem\npresented itself in another way. Instead of accepting the validity of\nclear ideas, as Descartes and Spinoza did, he adopted the Baconian\nmethod, and opened the inquiry into the origin and formation of ideas.\nSeparating himself from the philosophers who held that the mind was\ncapable of arriving at knowledge independent of experience, and from the\nsceptics who maintained that the senses were the only channels of\ninformation, he showed that ideas were derived from two\nsources--sensation and reflection.\n\nHe was succeeded by George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, born at Kilcrin\nin Kilkenny, in 1684. He defeated the sceptics on their own ground.\nThere is nothing in the world, he says, except our own sensations and\nideas. In order to exist for us, things have to be perceived by the\nmind; therefore, everything, in order to exist, must exist in the mind\nof God. But when Berkeley had proved that matter was figment, David\nHume, born in 1711, came forward and showed that mind was also an\nillusion. You know nothing of matter, said Berkeley; you have only\nperceptions and the ideas based thereon. You know nothing of mind,\nreplied Hume; you have only a succession of sensations and ideas.\n\nAgainst Hume rose up in Germany a famous school of philosophers\nbeginning with Immanuel Kant, who was born in Prussia in 1724. Kant\nattempted to prove that the human reason was not untrustworthy, as Hume\nassumed, but limited, and that, within certain bounds, it was capable\nof arriving at practical truths. Kant's disciples, however, were not\ncontent with this modest restatement. Taking it too readily for granted\nthat Hume's objections had been overcome, they proceeded to revive that\nunbounded faith in mere speculation which had been the distemper of the\nGreek mind. Fichte and Schelling were the first thinkers of note to\nattempt again to solve by logic the mystery of the universe.\n\nBut their works are now obscured by the achievement of Hegel, who began\nto teach at Berlin in 1818. Hegel holds that the real universe is a\nuniverse of ideas to which his philosophy is the key, but, as ideas\nrealise themselves in space and time, they come within the scope of the\nman of science. It is said that all bad German systems of philosophy\nwhen they die come to England. Hegelianism has certainly been very\nfashionable in this country, and its influence is still observable in\nacademic circles.\n\nAuguste Comte is the Bacon of the nineteenth century. It has been his\nobject to construct a _positive_ philosophy; that is to say, a doctrine\ncapable of embracing all the sciences, and, with them, all the problems\nof social life. He holds that every branch of knowledge passes through\nthree stages: the supernatural, or fictitious; the metaphysical or\nabstract; the positive or scientific. When the positive method is\nadopted, then shall we again have one general doctrine, powerful because\ngeneral.\n\nThe metaphysicians have failed to penetrate to the causes of things, but\nthe men of science are succeeding in the humbler but far more useful\nwork of tracing some of the laws that govern the phenomena of nature,\nand foreseeing their operations. It is only where the philosophers\nstarted matters capable of _positive_ treatment that any advance has\nbeen made in metaphysics. For the rest, philosophy leaves us in the\nnineteenth century at precisely the same point at which we were in the\nfifth. Thus is the circle completed.\n\n\n\n\nJOHN LOCKE\n\nConcerning the Human Understanding\n\n     John Locke was born at Wrington, Somersetshire, England, Aug. 29,\n     1632. He was educated at Westminster and at Christ Church, Oxford;\n     but his temperament rebelled against the system of education still\n     in vogue and the public disputations of the schools, which he\n     thought \"invented for wrangling and ostentation rather than to\n     discover truth.\" It was his study of Descartes that first \"gave him\n     a relish of philosophical things.\" From 1683 to 1689 he found it\n     prudent to sojourn in Holland. In the latter year he returned to\n     England, bringing with him the manuscript of the \"Essay Concerning\n     Human Understanding,\" which appeared in the spring of 1690. Few\n     works of philosophy have made their way more rapidly than the\n     \"Essay.\" Twenty editions appeared before 1700. The design of the\n     book, Locke explains in the introduction, is to inquire \"into the\n     origin, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, together with the\n     grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent.\" Locke died on\n     October 28, 1704.\n\n\n_I.--The Nature of Simple Ideas_\n\n\"Idea\" being that term which, I think, serves best to stand for\nwhatsoever is the object of the understanding. I have used it to express\nwhatever is meant by phantasm, notion, species, or whatever it is the\nmind can be employed about in thinking. Let us, then, suppose the mind\nto be, as we say, white paper void of all characters--without any ideas.\nWhence comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of\nman has painted on it with an almost endless variety? To this, I answer\nin one word--Experience; in that all our knowledge is founded, and from\nthat it ultimately derives itself.\n\nLet anyone examine his own thoughts and thoroughly search his\nunderstanding, and then let him tell me whether of all the original\nideas he has there are any other than of the objects of his senses, or\nof the observations of his mind considered as objects of his\nreflection. Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the\nthings themselves, so united and blended that there is no separation, no\ndistance between them, yet it is plain the ideas they produce in the\nmind enter by the senses simple and unmixed. For, though the sight and\ntouch often take in from the same object at the same time different\nideas, yet the simple ideas thus united in the same subject are as\nperfectly distinct as those that come in by different senses; the\ncoldness and hardness which a man feels in a piece of ice being as\ndistinct ideas in the mind as the smell and whiteness of a lily, and\neach of them being in itself uncompounded, contains nothing but one\nuniform appearance, or conception, in the mind, and is not\ndistinguishable into different ideas.\n\nWhen the understanding is once stored with these simple ideas, it has\nthe power to repeat, compare, and unite them even to an almost infinite\nvariety, and so can make at will new complex ideas. But it is not in the\npower of any most exalted wit or enlarged understanding, by any\nquickness or variety of thought, to invent or frame one new simple idea\nin the mind, nor to destroy those that are there. I would have anyone\ntry to fancy any taste which had never affected his palate, or frame the\nidea of a scent he had never smelt; and when he can do this, I will also\nconclude that a blind man hath ideas of colours and a deaf man true,\ndistinct notions of sound.\n\nThere are some ideas which have admittance only through one sense which\nis peculiarly adapted to receive them. Thus, light and colours come in\nonly by the eye, all kinds of noises by the ear, the tastes and smells\nby the nose and palate. The most considerable of those belonging to the\ntouch are heat, cold, and solidity--which is the idea that belongs to\nthe body, whereby we conceive it to fill space.\n\nSimple ideas of divers senses are the ideas of space or extension,\nfigure, rest, and motion, for these make perceivable impressions both\non the eyes and touch, and we can receive and convey into our minds the\nideas of the extension, figure, motion, and rest of bodies both by\nseeing and feeling.\n\nThe mind, receiving the ideas mentioned in the foregoing from without,\nwhen it turns its view inward upon itself and observes its own actions\nabout those ideas it has, takes from thence other ideas which are as\ncapable to be the objects of its contemplation as any of those it\nreceived from foreign things. The two great and principal actions of the\nmind which are most frequently considered, and which are so frequent\nthat everyone that pleases may take notice of them in himself, are these\ntwo--Perception or Thinking, and Volition or Will. The power of thinking\nis called the Understanding, and the power of volition is called the\nWill. And these two powers, or abilities, in the mind are denominated\nFaculties. Some of the modes of these simple ideas of reflection are\nremembrance, discerning, reasoning, judging, knowledge, faith.\n\nIt has, further, pleased our wise Creator to annex to several objects\nand to the ideas which we receive from them, as also to several of our\nthoughts, a concomitant pleasure, and that in several objects to several\ndegrees, that those faculties which He has endowed us with might not\nremain wholly idle and unemployed by us. Pain has the same efficacy and\nuse to set us on work that pleasure has, we being as ready to employ our\nfaculties to avoid that as to pursue this.\n\nExistence and unity are two other ideas that are suggested to the\nunderstanding by every object without and every idea within. Power,\nalso, is another of those simple ideas which we receive from sensation\nand reflection; and, besides these, there is succession.\n\nNor let anyone think these too narrow bounds for the capacious mind of\nman to expatiate in, which takes its flight farther than the stars and\ncannot be confined by the limits of the world, that extends its\nthoughts often even beyond the utmost expansion of matter and makes\nexcursions into that incomprehensible inane. Nor will it be so strange\nto think these few simple ideas sufficient to employ the quickest\nthought or largest capacity if we consider how many words may be made\nout of the various composition of twenty-four letters; or if, going one\nstep farther, we will but reflect on the variety of combinations that\nmay be made with barely one of the above-mentioned ideas, _viz._,\nnumber, whose stock is inexhaustible. And what a large and immense field\ndoth extension alone afford the mathematicians!\n\n\n_II.--Of Idea-Producing Qualities_\n\nThe power to produce any idea in our mind I call Quality of the subject\nwherein that power is. Qualities are, first, such as are utterly\ninseparable from the body in what state soever it be. These I call\noriginal or primary qualities, which I think we may observe to produce\nsimple ideas in us, _viz._, solidity, extension, figure, motion or rest,\nand number.\n\nSecondly, such qualities which in truth are nothing in the objects\nthemselves, but powers to produce various sensations in us by their\nprimary qualities, _i.e._, by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of\ntheir insensible parts. These secondary qualities are colours, sounds,\ntastes, etc. From whence I think it is easy to draw this observation:\nthat the ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them,\nbut the ideas produced in us by the secondary qualities have no\nresemblance in them at all.\n\nIf anyone will consider that the same fire that at one distance produces\nin us the sensation of warmth does, at a nearer approach, produce in us\nthe far different sensation of pain, let him bethink himself what reason\nhe has to say that his idea of warmth, which was produced in him by\nfire, is actually in the fire; and his idea of pain which the same fire\nproduced in him in the same way, is not in the fire. The particular\nbulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire or snow are really\nin them, whether anyone's senses perceive them or not; and, therefore,\nthey may be called real qualities, because they really exist in those\nbodies. But light, heat, whiteness, or coldness are no more really in\nthem than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the sensation of them;\nlet not the eyes see light or colours, nor the ears hear sounds; let the\npalate not taste, nor the nose smell; and all colours, tastes, odours,\nand sounds, as they are such particular ideas, vanish and cease, and are\nreduced to their causes, _i.e._, bulk, figure, and motion of parts.\n\n\n_III.--Various Faculties of the Mind_\n\nWhat perception is everyone will know better by reflecting on what he\ndoes himself when he sees, hears, feels, etc., or thinks, than by any\ndiscourse of mine. This is certain, that whatever alterations are made\nin the body, if they reach not the mind, whatever impressions are made\non the outward parts, if they are not taken notice of within, there is\nno perception.\n\nWe ought further to consider concerning perception, that the ideas we\nreceive by sensation are often in grown people altered by the judgment\nwithout our taking any notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round\nglobe of any uniform colour--_e.g._, gold, alabaster, or jet--it is\ncertain that the idea thereby imprinted in our mind is of a flat circle\nvariously shadowed with several degrees of light and brightness coming\nto our eyes. But we having by use been accustomed to perceive what kind\nof appearances convex bodies are wont to make in us, what alterations\nare made in the reflections of light by the difference of the sensible\nfigures of bodies, the judgment presently, by an habitual custom, alters\nthe appearances into their causes; so that from that which is truly a\nvariety of shadow or colour collecting the figure, it makes it pass for\na mark of figure, and frames to itself the perception of a convex figure\nand a uniform colour, when the idea we receive from thence is only a\nplane variously coloured, as is evident in painting. Perception, then,\nis the first operation of our intellectual faculties, and the inlet of\nall knowledge into our minds.\n\nThe next faculty of the mind whereby it makes a further progress towards\nknowledge is that which I call Retention, or the keeping of those simple\nideas which from sensation or reflection it hath received. This is done,\nfirst, by keeping the idea which is brought into it for some time\nactually in view, which is called Contemplation. The other way of\nretention is the power to revive again in our minds those ideas which\nafter imprinting have disappeared, or have been, as it were, laid aside\nout of sight; and thus we do when we conceive heat or light, yellow or\nsweet, the object being removed. This is memory, which is, as it were,\nthe storehouse of our ideas.\n\nAnother faculty we may take notice of in our minds is that of\nDiscerning, and distinguishing between the several ideas it has. It is\nnot enough to have a confused perception of something in general. Unless\nthe mind had a distinct perception of different objects and their\nqualities, it would be capable of very little knowledge, though the\nbodies that affect us were as busy about us as they are now, and the\nmind were continually employed in thinking. On this faculty of\ndistinguishing one thing from another depends the evidence and certainty\nof several even very general propositions which have passed for innate\ntruths, because men, overlooking the true cause why those propositions\nfind universal assent, impute it wholly to native uniform impressions;\nwhereas it, in truth, depends upon this clear discerning faculty of the\nmind, whereby it perceives two ideas to be the same or different.\n\nThe comparing of ideas one with another is the operation of the mind\nupon which depends all that large tribe of ideas comprehended under\nrelations. The next operation is composition, whereby the mind puts\ntogether several simple ideas and combines them into complex ones.\n\nThe use of words being to stand as outward marks of our internal ideas,\nand those ideas being taken from particular things, if every particular\nidea that we take in should have a distinct name, names must be endless.\nTo prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideas received from\nparticular objects to become general, which is done by considering them\nas they are in the mind, and such appearances separate from all other\nexistences, and from the circumstances of real existence, as time,\nplace, or any other concomitant ideas. This is called Abstraction,\nwhereby ideas taken from particular being become general representatives\nof all of the same kind. Thus, the same colour being observed to-day in\nchalk or snow which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers\nthat that appearance alone makes it a representative of all of that\nkind; and having given it the name \"whiteness,\" it by that sound\nsignifies the same quality wheresoever imagined or met with; and thus\nuniversals, whether ideas or terms, are made.\n\nAs the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all its simple ideas,\nso it exerts several acts of its own, whereby, out of its simple ideas,\nas the materials and foundations of the rest the others are framed. And\nI believe we shall find, if we observe the originals of our notions,\nthat even the most abstruse ideas, how remote soever they may seem from\nsense, or from any operation of our minds, are yet only such as the\nunderstanding frames to itself, by repeating and joining together ideas\nthat it had either from objects of sense or from its own operations\nabout them; so that even those large and abstract ideas are derived from\nsensation or reflection, being no other than what the mind may and does\nattain by the ordinary use of its own faculties.\n\n\n_IV.--Knowledge of the Existence of Other Things_\n\nIt is the actual receiving of ideas from without that gives us notice of\nthe existence of other things, and makes us know that something does\nexist at that time without us which causes that idea in us, though\nperhaps we neither know nor consider how it does it. And this, though\nnot so certain as our own intuitive knowledge, or as the deductions of\nour reason employed about the clear abstract ideas of our own minds, yet\ndeserves the name of knowledge.\n\nIt is plain that those perceptions are produced by exterior causes\naffecting our senses for the following reasons.\n\nBecause those that want the organs of any sense never can have the ideas\nbelonging to that sense produced in their minds.\n\nBecause sometimes I find I cannot avoid having those ideas produced in\nmy mind; for as when my eyes are shut, or the windows fast, I can at\npleasure recall to my mind the ideas of light or the sun which former\nsensations have lodged in my memory; so I can at pleasure lay by that\nidea and take into my view that of a rose or taste of sugar. But if I\nturn my eyes at noon towards the sun, I cannot avoid the ideas which the\nlight or sun produces in me. There is nobody who does not perceive the\ndifference in himself contemplating the sun as he has an idea of it in\nhis memory and actually looking upon it; and, therefore, he has certain\nknowledge that they are not both memory or the actions of his mind and\nfancies only within him, but that actual seeing has a cause without.\n\nAdd to this that many of those ideas are produced with pain, which\nafterwards we remember without the least offence.\n\nLastly, our senses bear witness to the truth of each other's report\nconcerning the existence of sensible things without us.\n\n\n\n\nMONTAIGNE\n\nEssays\n\n     Michel Eyquem, Seigneur de Montaigne, one of the greatest masters\n     of the essay in all literature, was born at his family's ancestral\n     chateau near Bordeaux, in France, Feb. 28, 1533, and died on\n     September 13, 1592. His life was one of much suffering from\n     hereditary disease, which, however, he endured so philosophically\n     that little trace of his trials is apparent in his writings. His\n     father, who is said to have been of English descent, took special\n     pains with his early education, having had him taught Latin by a\n     German tutor before he learnt French, so that before he \"left his\n     nurse's arms\" he was a master of the ancient tongue and knew not a\n     word of his own. The first two of the three books of his celebrated\n     \"Essays\" were published in 1581 and the third in 1588. In 1582 he\n     visited Italy and was made a Roman citizen, and the next year he\n     was chosen Mayor of Bordeaux. Always a lover of books and a student\n     of men, his writings are a rich mine of scholarly wit and worldly\n     wisdom, consummate in the naturalness that conceals literary art.\n     Like most works of the time, they contain passages which modern\n     taste does not approve, but, taken as a whole, they are among the\n     most interesting of books of the kind.\n\n\n_I.--Of Death, and How It Findeth a Man_\n\nI was born between eleven of the clock and noon, the last of February,\n1533, according to our computation, the year beginning on January 1. It\nis but a fortnight since I was thirty-nine years old. I want at least as\nmuch more of life. If in the meantime I should trouble my thoughts with\na matter so far from me as death, it were but folly. Of those renowned\nin life I will lay a wager I will find more that have died before they\ncame to five-and-thirty years than after.\n\nHow many means and ways has death to surprise us! Who would ever have\nimagined that a Duke of Brittany should have become stifled to death in\na throng of people, as whilom was a neighbour of mine at Lyons when\nPope Clement made his entrance there? Hast thou not seen one of our late\nkings slain in the midst of his sports? and one of his ancestors die\nmiserably by the throw of a hog? AEschylus, fore-threatened by the fall\nof a house, when he was most on his guard, was struck dead by the fall\nof a tortoise-shell from the talons of a flying eagle. Another was\nchoked by a grape-pip. An emperor died from the scratch of a comb,\nAEmilius Lepidus from hitting his foot against a door-sill, Anfidius from\nstumbling against the door as he was entering the council chamber. Caius\nJulius, a physician, while anointing a patient's eyes had his own closed\nby death. And if among these examples I may add one of a brother of\nmine, Captain St. Martin, playing at tennis, received a blow with a ball\na little above the right ear, and without any appearance of bruise or\nhurt, never sitting or resting, died within six hours afterwards of an\napoplexy. These so frequent and ordinary examples being ever before our\neyes, why should it not continually seem to us that death is ever at\nhand ready to take us by the throat?\n\nWhat matter is it, will you say unto me, how and in what manner it is,\nso long as a man do not trouble and vex himself therewith? It sufficeth\nme to live at my ease, and the best recreation I can have that do I ever\ntake. It is uncertain where death looks for us: let us look for her\neverywhere. The premeditation of death is a fore-thinking of liberty. He\nwho has learned to die has unlearned to serve. There is no evil in life\nfor him who has well conceived that the privation of life is no evil. I\nam now, by the mercy of God, in such a taking that, without regret or\ngrieving at any worldly matter, I am prepared to dislodge whensoever He\nshall please to call me. No man did ever prepare himself to quit the\nworld more simply and fully. The deadest deaths are the best.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWere I a composer of books I would keep a register of divers deaths,\nwhich, in teaching me to die, should afterwards teach them to live.\n\nMy father in his household order had this, which I can commend, though I\nin no way follow. Besides the day-book of household affairs, wherein are\nregistered at least expenses, payments, gifts, bargains, and sales that\nrequire not a notary's hand to them--of which book a receiver had the\nkeeping--he appointed another journal-book to one of his servants, who\nwas his clerk, wherein he should orderly set down all occurences worthy\nof the noting, and day by day register the memories of the history of\nhis house--a thing very pleasant to read when time began to wear out the\nremembrance of them, and fit for us to pass the time withal, and to\nresolve some doubts: when such and such a work was begun, when ended;\nwhat way or course was taken, what accidents happened, how long it\ncontinued; all our voyages and journeys, where, and how long we were\naway from home; our marriages; who died, and when; the receiving of good\nor bad tidings; who came, who went; changing or removing of household\nofficers, taking of new or discharging of old servants, and such\nmatters. An ancient custom, and a sound one, which I would have all men\nuse and bring into fashion again.\n\n\n_II.--In My Library_\n\nIntercourse with books comforts me in age and solaces me in\nsolitariness, eases me of weariness and rids me of tedious company. To\ndivert importunate thoughts there is no better way than recourse to\nbooks. And though they perceive I on occasion forsake them, they never\nmutiny or murmur, but welcome me always with the self-same visage.\n\nI never travel, whether in peace or in war, without books. It is\nwonderful what repose I find in the knowledge that they are at my elbow\nto delight me when time shall serve. In this human peregrination this is\nthe best munition I have found.\n\nAt home I betake me somewhat oftener to my library. It is in the chief\napproach to my house, so that under my eyes are my garden, my\nbase-court, my yard, and even the best rooms of my house. There, without\norder or method, I can turn over and ransack now one book and now\nanother. Sometimes I muse, sometimes save; and walking up and down I\nindite and register these my humours, these my conceits. It is placed in\na third storey of a tower. The lowermost is my chapel, the second a\nchamber, where I often lie when I would be alone. Above is a\nclothes-room. In this library, formerly the least useful room in all my\nhouse, I pass the greatest part of my life's days, and most hours of the\nday--I am never there of nights. Next it is a handsome, neat study,\nlarge enough to have a fire in winter, and very pleasantly windowed.\n\nIf I feared not trouble more than cost I might easily join a convenient\ngallery of a hundred paces long and twelve broad on each side of this\nroom, and upon the same floor, the walls being already of a convenient\nheight. Each retired place requireth a walk. If I sit long my thoughts\nare prone to sleep. My mind goes not alone as if legs moved it. Those\nwho study without books are all in the same case.\n\nMy library is circular in shape, with no flat side save that in which\nstand my table and chair. Thus around me at one look it offers the full\nsight of all my books, set round about upon shelves, five ranks, one\nabove another. It has three bay windows, of a far-extending, rich, and\nunobstructed prospect. The room is sixteen paces across.\n\nIn winter I am less constantly there, for my house being on a hill, no\npart is more subject to all weathers than this. But this pleases me only\nthe more, both for the benefit of the exercise--which is a matter to be\ntaken into account--and because, being remote and of troublesome\naccess, it enables me the better to seclude myself from company that\nwould encroach upon my time. There is my seat, that is my throne.\n\nMy rule therein I endeavour to make absolute, that I may sequester that\nonly corner from all, whether wife, children, or acquaintances. For\nelsewhere I have but a verbal and qualified authority, and miserable to\nmy mind is he who in his own home has nowhere to be to himself.\n\n\n_III.--Of Inequality_\n\nPlutarch somewhere says that he finds no such great difference between\nbeast and beast as between man and man. He speaks of the mind and\ninternal qualities. I could find in my heart to say there is more\ndifference between one man and another than between such a man and such\na beast; and that there are as many degrees of spirits as steps between\nearth and heaven.\n\nBut concerning the estimation of men, it is marvellous that we ourselves\nare the only things not esteemed for their proper qualities. We commend\na horse for his strength and speed, not for his trappings; a greyhound\nfor his swiftness, not his collar; a hawk for her wing, not for her\nbells. Why do we not likewise esteem a man for that which is his own? He\nhas a goodly train of followers, a stately palace, so much rent coming\nin, so much credit among men. Alas, all that is about him, not in him.\nIf you buy a horse you see him bare of saddle and cloths. When you judge\nof a man, why consider his wrappings only? In a sword it is the quality\nof the blade, not the value of the scabbard, to which you give heed. A\nman should be judged by what he is himself, not by his appurtenances.\n\nLet him lay aside his riches and external honours and show himself in\nhis shirt. Has he a sound body? What mind has he? Is it fair, capable,\nand unpolluted, and happily equipped in all its parts? Is it a mind to\nbe settled, equable, contented, and courageous in any circumstances? Is\nhe--\n\n  A wise man, of himself commander high,\n  Whom want, nor death, nor bands can terrify,\n  Resolved t'affront desires, honours to scorn,\n  All in himself, close, round, and neatly borne,\n  Against whose front externals idly play,\n  And even fortune makes a lame essay?\n\nSuch a man is five hundred degrees beyond kingdoms and principalities;\nhimself is a kingdom unto himself. Compare with him the vulgar\ntroop--stupid, base, servile, warring, floating on the sea of passions,\ndepending wholly on others. There is more difference than between heaven\nand earth, yet in a blindness of custom we take little or no account of\nit. Whereas, if we consider a cottage and a king, a noble and a workman,\na rich man and a poor, we at once recognise disparity, although, as one\nmight say, they differ in nothing but their clothes.\n\nAn emperor, whose pomp so dazzles us in public, view him behind the\ncurtain is but an ordinary man, and peradventure viler and sillier than\nthe least of his subjects! Cowardice, irresolution, ambition, spite,\nanger, envy, move and work in him as in another man. Fear, care, and\nsuspicion haunt him even in the midst of his armed troops. Does the\nague, the headache, or the gout spare him more than us? When age seizes\non his shoulders, can the tall yeoman of his guard rid him of it? His\nbedstead encased with gold and pearls cannot allay the pinching pangs of\ncolic!\n\nThe flatterers of Alexander the Great assured him he was the son of\nJupiter, but being hurt one day, and the blood gushing from the wound,\n\"What think you of this?\" said he to them. \"Is not this blood of a\nlively red hue, and merely human?\" If a king have the ague or the gout\nwhat avail his titles of majesty? But if he be a man of worth, royalty\nand glorious titles will add but little to good fortune.\n\nTruly, to see our princes all alone, sitting at their meat, though\nbeleaguered with talkers, whisperers, and gazing beholders, I have often\nrather pitied than envied them. The honour we receive from those who\nfear and stand in awe of us is no true honour. \"Service holds few,\nthough many hold service.\"\n\n  Every man's manners and his mind\n  His fortune for him frame and find.\n\n\n_IV.--Of the Use of Apparel_\n\nI was devising in this chill-cold season whether the fashion of these\nlate-discovered nations to go naked be a custom forced by the hot\ntemperature of the air, as we say of the Indians and Moors, or whether\nit be an original manner of mankind. My opinion is, that even as all\nplants, trees, living creatures, are naturally furnished with protection\nagainst all weathers, even so were we. But like those who by artificial\nlight quench the brightness of day, so we have spoilt our proper\ncovering by what we have borrowed. Nations under the same heaven and\nclimate as our own, or even colder, have no knowledge of clothes.\nMoreover, the tenderest parts of us are ever bare and naked--our eyes,\nface, mouth, nose, ears; and our country swains, like their forefathers,\ngo bare-breasted to their middles.\n\nHad we been born needing petticoats and breeches nature would have armed\nthat which she has left to the battery of the seasons with some thicker\nskin or hide, as she has our finger ends and the soles of our feet.\n\n\"How many men in Turkey go naked for devotion's sake?\" a certain man\ndemanded of one of our loitering rogues whom in the depth of winter he\nsaw wandering up and down with nothing but his shirt about him, yet as\nblithe and lusty as another that keeps himself muffled up to the ears in\nfurs. \"And have not you, good sir,\" answered he, \"your fate all bare?\nImagine I am all face.\"\n\nThe Italians say that when the Duke of Florence asked his fool how,\nbeing so ill-clad, he could endure the cold, he replied, \"Master, use\nbut my receipt, and put all the clothes you have on you, as I do all\nmine, and you shall feel no more cold than I do.\"\n\nKing Massinissa, were it never so sharp weather, always went bareheaded.\nSo did the Emperor Severus. In the battle of the Egyptians and Persians,\nHerodotus noticed that of those slain the Egyptians had skulls much\nharder than the Persians, by reason that these go ever with their heads\ncovered with coifs and turbans, while those are from infancy shaven and\nbareheaded. King Agesilaus wore his clothes alike winter and summer.\nSuetonius says Caesar always marched at the head of his troops, and most\ncommonly bareheaded and on foot, whether the sun shone or whether it\nrained. The like is reported of Hannibal.\n\nPlato, for the better health and comfort of the body, earnestly\npersuades that no man should ever give feet or head other cover than\nnature had allotted them.\n\nWe Frenchmen are accustomed to array ourselves strangely in\nparti-coloured suits (not I, for I seldom wear any but black and white,\nlike my father) to protect ourselves against the cold, but what should\nwe do in cold like that Captain Martyn du Bellay describes--frosts so\nhard that the wine had to be chopped up with axes and shared to the\nsoldiers by weight?\n\n\n_V.--Of Solitariness_\n\nLet us leave apart the outworn comparison between a solitary and an\nactive life, and ask those who engage themselves \"for the public good\"\nwhether what they seek in these public charges is not, after all,\nprivate commodity? Public or private, as I suppose, the end is the\nsame, to live better at ease. But a man does not always seek the best\nway to come at it, and often supposes himself to have quit cares when he\nhas but changed them.\n\nThere is not much less vexation in the government of a private family\nthan in managing a state. Wheresoever the mind is buried, there lies\nall. And though domestic occupations may be less important, they are not\nless importunate.\n\nMoreover, though we have freed ourselves from court or from market, we\nhave still the torments of ambition, avarice, irresolution, fear, and\nunsatisfied desires. These follow us even into cloisters and schools of\nphilosophy. When Socrates was told that a certain man was none the\nbetter for his travels, \"I believe it well,\" said he, \"for he took\nhimself with him.\"\n\nIf a man do not first get rid of what burthens his mind, moving from\nplace to place will not help him. It is not enough for a man to\nsequester himself from people; he must seclude himself from himself. We\ncarry our fetters with us. Our evil is rooted in our mind, and the mind\ncannot escape from itself. Therefore must it be reduced and brought into\nitself, and that is the true solitariness, which may be enjoyed even in\nthe throng of peopled cities or kings' courts.\n\nA man may, if he can, have wife, children, goods, health, but not so tie\nhimself to them that his felicity depends on them. We should reserve for\nourselves some place where we may, as it were, hoard up our true\nliberty. Virtue is contented with itself, without discipline, words, or\ndeeds. Shake we off these violent holdfasts which engage us and estrange\nus from ourselves. The greatest thing is for a man to know how to be his\nown.\n\nI esteem not Arcesilaus, the philosopher, less reformed because I know\nhim to have used household utensils of gold and silver, as the condition\nof his fortune permitted. And knowing what slender hold accessory\ncomforts have, I omit not, in enjoying them, humbly to beseech God of\nHis mercy to make me content with myself and the goods I have in myself.\nThe wiser sort of men, having a strong and vigorous mind, may frame for\nthemselves an altogether spiritual life. But mine being common, I must\nhelp to uphold myself by corporal comforts. And age having despoiled me\nof some of these, I sharpen my appetite for those remaining. Glory,\nwhich Pliny and Cicero propose to us, is far from my thoughts. \"Glory\nand rest are things that cannot squat on the same bench.\" Stay your mind\nin assured and limited cogitations, wherein it best may please itself,\nand having gained knowledge of true felicities, enjoy them, and rest\nsatisfied without wishing a further continuance either of life or of\nname.\n\n\n_VI.--Opinion in Good and Evil_\n\nMen, saith an ancient Greek, are tormented by the opinion they have of\nthings, and not by things themselves. It were a great conquest of our\nmiserable human condition if any man could establish everywhere this\ntrue proposition. For if evils lie only in our judgment, it is in our\npower to condemn them or to turn them to good.\n\nIn death, what we principally fear is pain; as also poverty has nothing\nto be feared for but what she casts upon us through hunger, thirst,\ncold, and other miseries. I will willingly grant that pain is the worst\naccident of our being; I hate and shun it as much as possible. But it is\nin our power, if not to annul, at least to diminish it, with patience,\nand though the body should be moved, yet to keep mind and reason in good\ntemper.\n\nIf it were not so, what has brought virtue, valour, magnanimity,\nfortitude, into credit? If a man is not to lie on the hard ground, to\nendure the heat of the scorching sun, to feed hungrily on a horse or an\nass, to see himself mangled and cut in pieces, to have a bullet plucked\nout of his bones, to suffer incisions, his flesh to be stitched up,\ncauterised, and searched--all incident to a martial man--how shall we\npurchase the advantage and pre-eminence we so greedily seek over the\nvulgar sort?\n\nMoreover, this ought to comfort us, that naturally, if pain be violent\nit is also short; if long, it is easier. Thou shall not feel it\nover-long; if thou feel it over-much, it will either end itself or end\nthee. Even as an enemy becomes more furious when we fly from him, so\ndoes pain grow prouder if we tremble under it. It will stoop and yield\non better terms to him who makes head against it. In recoiling we draw\non the enemy. As the body is steadier and stronger to a charge if it\nstand stiffly, so is the soul.\n\nWeak-backed men, such as I am, feel a dash of a barber's razor more than\nten blows with a sword in the heat of fight. The painful throes of\nchildbearing, deemed by physicians and the word of God to be very great,\nsome nations make no account of. I omit to speak of the Lacedaemonian\nwomen; come we to the Switzers of our infantry. Trudging and trotting\nafter their husbands, to-day you see them carry the child around their\nneck which but yesterday they brought into the world.\n\nHow many examples have we not of contempt of pain and smart by that sex!\nWhat can they not do, what will they not do, what fear they to do, so\nthey may but hope for some amendment of their beauty? To become slender\nin waist, and to have a straight spagnolised body, what pinching, what\ngirding, what cingling will they not endure! Yea, sometimes with iron\nplates, with whalebones, and other such trashy implements, that their\nvery skin and quick flesh is eaten in and consumed to the bones, whereby\nthey sometimes work their own death.\n\nThere is a certain effeminate and light opinion, and that no more in\nsorrow than it is in pleasure, whereby we are so dainty tender that we\ncannot abide to be stung of a bee, but must roar and cry out. This is\nthe total sum of all, that you be master of yourself.\n\n\n\n\nPLATO\n\nThe Apology, or Defence of Socrates\n\n     Aristocles, the son of Ariston, whose birth name is almost\n     forgotten because the whole world knows him as Plato, was born at\n     Athens about the year 427 B.C. As he grew up he became a devoted\n     disciple of Socrates, and when the Athenian people had put the\n     master to death, the disciple gave up his life to expounding the\n     wisdom of his teacher. How much of that teaching was really\n     implicitly contained in the doctrines of Socrates, it is difficult\n     to say, since very definite developments evidently took place in\n     Plato's own views. Plato himself lived to the age of eighty, and\n     died, as he had for the most part lived, at Athens, in 347. When\n     Socrates was indicted for \"corrupting the youth\" of Athens and on\n     other corresponding charges, Plato was himself present at the\n     trial. We may believe that the \"Apology\" is substantially a\n     reproduction of the actual defence made by Socrates. The \"judges\"\n     in the Athenian court were practically the assembled body of free\n     Athenian citizens. When an adverse verdict was given, the accused\n     could propose a penalty as an alternative to that which had been\n     named by the accuser, and the court could choose between the two\n     penalties. Socrates was found guilty by a small majority of votes,\n     and sentence of death was passed, as set forth in the last section\n     of the \"Apology.\"\n\n\n_I.--The Official Indictment, and the Real Charges_\n\nWhat my accusers have said, Athenians, has been most specious, but none\nof it is true. The falsehood which most astonished me was that you must\nbeware of being beguiled by my consummate eloquence; for I am not\neloquent at all, unless speaking pure truth be eloquence. You will hear\nme speak with adornments and without premeditation in my everyday\nlanguage, which many of you have heard. I am seventy years old, yet this\nis my first appearance in the courts, and I have no experience of\nforensic arts. All I ask is that you will take heed whether what I say\nbe just.\n\nIt is just that I should begin by defending myself against my accusers\nfrom of old, in priority to Anytus and these other latter-day accusers.\nFor, skilful as these are, I fear those more--those who from your youth\nhave been untruthfully warning you against one Socrates, a wise man, who\nspeculates about everything in heaven and under the earth, and tries to\nmake the worse cause the better. Their charge is the craftier, because\nyou think that a man who does as they say has no thought for the gods. I\ncannot name these gentlemen precisely, beyond indicating that one is a\nwriter of comedies; I cannot meet and refute them individually. However,\nI must try to enter a brief defence. I think I know where my difficulty\nwill lie; but the issue will be as the gods choose.\n\nNow, what is the basis of this charge, on which Meletus also relies?\n\"Socrates is an evil doer, a busybody, who pries into things in heaven\nand under the earth, and teaches these same things to others.\" You all\nsaw the Socrates in the comedy of Aristophanes engaged in these\npursuits. I have nothing to say against such inquiries; but do not let\nMeletus charge me with them, for I have no part nor lot in them. Many of\nyou have heard me talk, but never one on these subjects. Witness you\nyourselves. From this you should be able to gauge the other things that\nare said against me.\n\nEqually untrue is the charge that I make a paid business of teaching my\nneighbours. It is a fine thing to be able to impart knowledge, like\nGorgias, and Prodicus, and Hippias, who can go from city to city and\ndraw to converse with them young men who pay for the privilege instead\nof enjoying their companions' society for nothing. I am told there is\none Evenus, a Parian, practising now, whose fee is five minas. It must\nbe delightful to possess such valuable knowledge and to impart it--if\nthey do possess it. I should like to do it myself, but I do not possess\nthe knowledge.\n\n\"Whence, then, comes the trouble, Socrates?\" you will say; \"if you have\nbeen doing nothing unusual, how have these rumours and slanders arisen?\"\nI will tell you what I take to be the explanation. It is due to a\ncertain wisdom with which I seem to be endowed--not superhuman at all\nlike that of these gentlemen. I speak not arrogantly, but on the\nevidence of the Oracle of Delphi, who told Chaerephon, a man known to\nyou, that there was no wiser man than Socrates. Now, I am not conscious\nof possessing wisdom; but the God cannot lie. What did he mean?\n\nWell, I tried to find out, by going to a man reputed wise, thinking to\nprove that there were wiser men. But I found him not wise at all, though\nhe fancied himself so. I sought to show him this, but he was only very\nmuch annoyed. I concluded that, after all, I was wiser than he in one\nparticular, because I was under no delusion that I possessed knowledge,\nas he was. I tried all the men reputed wise, one after the other, and\nmade myself very unpopular, for the result was always the same. It was\nthe same with the poets as with the politicians, and with the craftsmen\nas with the poets. The last did know something about their own\nparticular art, and therefore imagined that they knew all about\neverything.\n\nI went on, taking every opportunity of finding out whether people\nreputed wise, and thinking themselves so, were wise in reality, and\npointing out that they were not. And because of my exposing the\nignorance of others, I have got this groundless reputation of having\nknowledge myself, and have been made the object of many other calumnies.\nAnd young gentlemen of position who have heard me follow my example, and\nannoy people by exposing their ignorance; and this is all visited on me;\nand I am called an ill-conditioned person who corrupts youth. To prove\nwhich my calumniators have to fall back on charging me with prying into\nall things in heaven and under the earth, and the rest of it.\n\n\n_II.--The Cross-Examining of Meletus_\n\nSuch is my answer to the charges which have been poured into your ears\nfor a long time. Now let me defend myself against these later\naccusations of Meletus and the rest--the virtuous patriot Meletus. I am\nan evil-doer, a corrupter of youth, who pays no reverence to the gods\nwho the city reveres, but to strange daemons. Not I, but Meletus is the\nevil-doer, who rashly makes accusations so frivolous, pretending much\nconcern for matters about which he has never troubled himself. Answer\nme, Meletus. You think it of the utmost importance that our youth should\nbe made as excellent as possible.\n\nMELETUS: Certainly.\n\nSOCRATES: Tell us, then, who is it that makes them better; for of\ncourse, you know. You are silent. The laws, you say? The question was,\n\"Who?\"\n\nMELETUS: The judges; all the judges.\n\nSOCRATES: In other words, all the Athenian people--everyone but me? And\nI alone corrupt them? Truly, I am in an ill plight! But in the case of\nall other animals, horses, for instance, there are only a few people who\nare able to improve them. Your answer shows that you have never bestowed\nattention on the care of young people. Next, tell me is it better for a\nman to dwell among good citizens or bad? The good, since the bad will\ninjure him. I cannot, then, set about making bad citizens designedly. My\nfriend, no man designedly brings injury upon himself. If I corrupt them,\nit must be undesignedly--reason good for admonishing and instructing me,\nwhich you have not done; but not for bringing me into court, which you\nhave done! However, I corrupt them by teaching them not to believe in\nthe gods in whom the city believes, but in strange deities? Do I teach\nthat there are some gods, or that there are no gods at all?\n\nMELETUS: I say that you believe in no gods. You say the sun is a stone,\nand the moon earth.\n\nSOCRATES: Most excellent Meletus, everyone knows that Anaxagoras says\nso; you can buy that information for a drachma! Do I really appear to\nyou to revere no gods?\n\nMELETUS: No, no gods at all.\n\nSOCRATES: Now, that is incredible! You must have manufactured this\nriddle out of sheer wantonness, for in the indictment you charge me with\nreverencing gods! Can anyone believe that there are human affairs, or\nequine affairs, or instrumental affairs without believing that there are\nmen, or horses, or instruments? You say expressly that I believe in\ndaemonic affairs, therefore in daemons; but daemons are a sort of gods or\nthe offspring of gods. Therefore, you cannot possibly believe that I do\nnot believe in gods. Really, I have sufficiently answered the\nindictment. If I am condemned, it will not be on the indictment of\nMeletus, but on popular calumnies; which have condemned good men before\nme, and assuredly I shall not be the last.\n\n\n_III.--The Defence_\n\nIt may be suggested that I ought to be ashamed of practices which have\nbrought you in danger of death. Risk of death is not to be taken into\naccount in any action which really matters at all. If it ought to be,\nthe heroes before Troy were bad characters! Every man should stand to\nhis post, come life, come death. Should I have stood to my post and\nfaced death when on service at Potidaca, but have failed through fear of\ndeath when the deity imposed on me a certain course of action? Whether\nto die be evil or good, I know not, though many think they know it to be\nevil. But to disobey authority, human or divine, I know to be evil; and\nI will not do what I know to be evil to avoid what may in fact be a\ngood. Insomuch that if you now offer to set me free on condition that I\nshould cease from these pursuits on pain of death, I should reply: \"Men\nof Athens, I love and honour you, but I will obey the god rather than\nyou; and while I breathe and have the power I will not cease from the\npursuit of philosophy, or from exhorting and warning you as I have done\nhitherto, against caring much for riches and nothing for the perfecting\nof your souls. This is the bidding of the god. If to speak thus be to\ncorrupt youth, then I corrupt youth. But he who says I speak other\nthings than this talks vanity; and this I will do, though the penalty\nwere many deaths.\"\n\nDo not murmur, but listen, for you will profit. If you put me to death,\nyou will harm yourselves more than me, for it is worse to do wrong than\nto suffer it. You will not easily find another to serve as the gadfly\nwhich rouses a noble horse--as I have done, being commissioned thereto\nby the god. For that I have made no profit for myself from this course,\nmy poverty proves. If it seems absurd that I should meddle thus with\neach man privately, but take no part in public affairs, that is because\nof the divine or daemonic influence of which I have spoken, named also in\nmockery by Meletus in the indictment. This is a voice which checks but\nnever urges me on. Indeed, had I meddled with politics, I should have\nbeen dead long ago.\n\nThat I will prove by facts. When you chose to condemn the ten generals,\nmy phyle supplied the Prytanes, and I alone stood out against you. And\nin the time of the thirty, I was ordered with four others to bring Leon\nfrom Salamis to be executed, and I alone would not; and it may be that\nmy own life was saved only because that government was broken up. Judge,\nthen, if my life would not have been shorter, had I taken part in public\nlife.\n\nBut I have never posed as an instructor or taken money for giving\ninstruction. Anyone who chooses can question me and hear what I have to\nsay. People take pleasure in my society, because they like to hear those\nexposed who deem themselves wise but are not. This duty the god has laid\non me by oracles and dreams and every mode of divine authority. If I am\ncorrupting or have corrupted youth, why do none of them bear witness\nagainst me, or their fathers or brothers or other kinsmen? Many I see\naround me who should do so if this charge were true; yet all are ready\nto assist me.\n\nThis, and the like, is what I have to say in my defence. Perhaps some of\nyou, thinking how, in a like case with mine but less exigent, he has\nsought the compassion of the court with tears and pleadings of his\nchildren and kinsfolk, will be indignant that I do none of these things,\nthough I have three boys of my own. That is not out of disrespect to\nyou, but because I think it would be unbeseeming to me. Such displays,\nas though death were something altogether terrifying, are to me\nastonishing and degrading to our city in the sight of strangers, for\npersons reputed to excel in anything, as in some respects I am held to\nexcel the generality.\n\nBut apart from credit, I count that we ought to inform and convince our\njudges, not seek to sway them by entreaties; that they may judge rightly\naccording to the laws, and not by favor. For you are sworn. And how\nshould I persuade you to break your oath, who am charged by Meletus with\nimpiety. For by so doing, I should be persuading you to disbelief in the\ngods, and making that very charge against myself. To you and to the god\nI leave it, that I may be judged as shall be best for you and for me.\n\n\n_IV.--After the Verdict_\n\nYour condemnation does not grieve me for various reasons, one of which\nis that I fully expected it. What surprises me is the small majority by\nwhich it was carried. Evidently Meletus, if left to himself, would have\nfailed to win the few votes needed to save him from the fine. Well, the\nsentence he fixes is death, and I have to propose an\nalternative--presumably, the sentence I deserve. I have neglected all\nthe ordinary pursuits and ambitions of men--which would have been no\ngood either to me or to you--that I might benefit each man privately, by\npersuading him to give attention to himself first--how to attain his own\nbest and wisest--and his mere affairs afterwards, and the city in like\nmanner. The proper reward is that I should be maintained in the\nPrytaneum as a public benefactor.\n\nYou may think this merely a piece of insolence, but it is not so. I am\nnot conscious of having wronged any man. Time does not permit me to\nprove my case, and I will not admit guilt by owning that I deserve\npunishment by a fine. What have I to fear? The penalty fixed by Meletus,\nas to which I do not know whether it is good or bad? Shall I, to escape\nthis, choose something which is certainly bad? Imprisonment, to be the\nslave of the Eleven? A fine, to be a prisoner till I pay it?--which\ncomes to the same thing, as I cannot pay. Exile? If my fellow-citizens\ncannot put up with me, how can I expect strangers to do so? The young\nmen will come to listen to me. If I repulse them, they will drive me\nout; and if I do not their elders will drive me out, and I shall live\nwandering from city to city.\n\nWhy cannot I go and hold my tongue, you may ask. That is the one thing\nwhich I cannot do. That would be to disobey the god, and the life would\nnot be worth living, though you do not believe me. I might undertake to\npay a mina. However, as Plato and Crito and Apollodorus urge me to name\nthirty minae, for which they will be security, I propose thirty minae.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYour enemies will reproach you, Athenians, for having put to death that\nwise man Socrates. Yet you would have had but a short time to wait, for\nI am old. I speak to those of you who have condemned me. I am condemned,\nnot for lack of argument, but because I have not chosen to plead after\nthe methods that would have been pleasant and flattering to you, but\ndegrading to me. There are things we may not do to escape death, for\nbaseness is worse than death, and swifter. Death has overtaken me, who\nam old, but baseness my accusers, who are strong. Truth condemns them,\nas you have condemned me, and each of us abides sentence, And for you\nwho have condemned me there will be a penalty swift and sure, and so I\ntake my leave of you.\n\nBut to you, my true judges, who voted for my acquittal, I would speak\nwhile yet we may. I have to tell you that my warning daemon has in no way\nwithstood the course I have taken, and the reason, assuredly, is that I\nhave done what is best, gaining blessing, death being no evil at all.\nFor death is either only to cease from sensations altogether as in a\ndreamless sleep, and that is no loss; or else it is a passing to another\nplace where all the dead are--the heroes, the poets, the wise men of\nold. How priceless were it to hold converse with them and question them!\nAnd surely the judges there pass no death-sentences!\n\nBut be you hopeful with regard to death, for to the good man, neither in\nlife nor in death is there anything that can harm him. And for me, I am\nconfident that it is better to die than to live. Therefore the daemon did\nnot check me, and I have no resentment against those who have caused my\ndeath. And now we go, I to death and you to life; but which of us to the\nbetter state, God knoweth alone.\n\n\n\n\nThe Republic\n\n     The wonderful series of dialogues in which Socrates takes the\n     leading part are at once the foundation and the crown of all\n     idealistic philosophy, and as literary masterpieces remain\n     unmatched. Certain of Plato's disciples would claim that his\n     highest achievement is \"The Timaeus\"; there are some who set their\n     affections on \"The Phaedo\"; but a general vote of all Platonists\n     would probably give the first position to \"The Republic,\" and this\n     is undoubtedly the work which has had the widest general influence.\n     In \"The Republic\" itself Socrates is, professedly engaged in a\n     disputation, of which the object is to discover what Justice means;\n     and this leads to the description of the building up of that ideal\n     state or commonwealth from which the dialogue derives its title of\n     \"The Republic.\"\n\n\n_I.--How the Argument Arose_\n\nI had gone with Glaucon to attend the celebration of the festival of\nBendis--the Thracian Artemis--a picturesque affair, and we were just\nleaving, when Polemarchus insisted on carrying us off by main force to\nthe house of his father, Cephalus. There we found a small company\nassembled. The old gentleman received us with hearty geniality; he is\nageing, but would not see any hardship in that, if you take age\ngood-humouredly. Of course, he owned that being wealthy makes a\ndifference, but not all the difference. The best of wealth is that you\nneed not do things which anger the gods and entail punishment in the\nhereafter; you need not lie, or be in debt to gods or men. And this\nconsciousness of your own justice is a great consolation.\n\n\"But,\" said I, \"what is justice? Is it always to speak the truth, and\nalways to let a man have his property? There are circumstances----\"\n\n\"I must go,\" said he. \"Polemarchus shall do the arguing.\"\n\nThis set us discussing the nature of justice. Glaucon took up the\ncudgels, after a preliminary skirmish with Thrasymachus.\n\nAssuming justice to be desirable--is it so for itself and by itself, or\nonly for its results; or both? The world at large puts it in the second\ncategory as an inconvenient necessity. To suffer injustice is an evil,\nand to protect themselves from that the weak combine to prevent\ninjustice from being done. But if anyone had the ring of Gyges, which\nmade him invisible, so that he could go his own way without let or\nhindrance, he would get all the pleasures he could out of life without\ntroubling about the justice of it. Again, imagine on the one hand your\nreally consummate rogue who gets credit for all the virtues and is\nsurrounded by all the material factors of happiness; and, on the other\nhand, a man of utter rectitude, on whom circumstances combine to fix the\nstigma of iniquity. He will be rejected, scourged, crucified; while the\nother is enjoying wealth, honour, everything, and can afford to make his\npeace with the gods into the bargain.\n\nThen Adeimantus took the field in support of his brother. \"The poets,\"\nhe said, \"hold forth about the rewards of virtue here and hereafter. But\nwe see the unrighteous prospering mightily; and the religious mendicants\ncome to rich folks and offer to sell them indulgences on easy terms. A\nkeen-witted lad is bound to argue that it is only the appearance of\njustice that is needed for prosperity; while the gods can be reconciled\ncheaply. This dwelling on the temporal rewards of justice is fatal. What\nwe expect of you is to show us the inherent value of justice--justice\nitself, not the appearance of it.\"\n\n\"Well argued,\" said I, \"especially as you reject your own conclusion. I\ncan but try, though the task be hard. But my weak sight may enable me to\nread large characters better than small. Justice is the virtue of the\nstate as well as of the individual; finding it in the state, the\ngreater, may help us to find it in the individual, the less.\"\n\n\n_II.--The Socratic Utopia_\n\nSociety arises because different people are the better skilled to supply\ndifferent wants, and the wants of each are supplied by mutual\narrangement and division of labour. Wants multiply; the community grows;\nit exchanges its own foreign products; merchants and markets are added\nto the producers; and when folk begin to hire servants you have a\ncomplete city or state living a life of simplicity. \"A city of pigs,\"\nsaid Glaucon, \"with no refinements.\" We will go on and develop every\nluxury of civilisation. But then our city and its neighbours will be\nwanting each other's lands. We must have soldiers. Our best guardians\nwill be a select band, those who are of the right temper and thoroughly\ntrained; fierce to foes but gentle to friends, like that true\nphilosopher, the dog, to whom knowledge is the test. The known are\nfriends, the unknown foes--knowledge begets gentleness.\n\nSo our guardians must be trained to knowledge; we must educate them.\nMusic and gymnastic, our national intellectual and physical training,\nmust be taught. Literature comes first, and really we teach things that\nare not true before we teach things that are true--fables before facts.\nBut over these we must exercise a rigid censorship, excluding what is\nessentially false.\n\nWe must have no stories which attribute harmful doings to the gods. God\nmust be represented as He is--the author of good always, of evil never;\nalso as having in him no variableness, neither shadow of turning. God\nhas no need of disguises. The lie in the soul--essential falsehood--is\nto Him abhorrent, and He has no need of such deceptions as may be\ninnocent or even laudable for men. God must be shown always as utterly\ntrue.\n\nSimilarly, we must not have stories which inspire dread of death; no\nAchilles saying in the under-world that it were better to be a slave in\nthe flesh than Lord of the Shades. And again, no heroes--and gods still\nless--giving way to frantic lamentations and uncontrolled emotions, even\nuncontrolled laughter. Truth must be inculcated; medicinal untruths, so\nto speak, are the prerogative of our rulers alone, and must be permitted\nto no one else. Temperance, which means self-control and obedience to\nauthority, is essential, and is not always characteristic of Homer's\ngods and heroes! We must exclude a long list of most unedifying passages\non this score. As for pictures of the afflictions of the righteous and\nthe prosperity of the unjust, we must wait, as we have not yet defined\njustice. We turn to the poetical forms in which the stories should be\nembodied.\n\nThe possible forms are the simply descriptive, the imitative, and the\nmixture of the two: narrative drama, and narrative mixed with dialogue.\nOur guardians ought to eschew imitation altogether, or at least to\nimitate only the good and noble. The act of imitating an evil character\nis demoralising, just as no self-respecting person will imitate the\nlower animals, and so on. Imitation must be restricted within the\nnarrowest practicable limits.\n\nBut who are to be our actual rulers? The best of the elders, whose\nfirmness and consistency have stood the test of temptation. To them we\ntransfer the title of guardians, calling the younger men auxiliaries.\nAnd we must try to induce everyone--guardians, soldiers, citizens--to\nbelieve in one quite magnificent lie: that they were like the men in the\nCadmus myth, fashioned in the ground, their common mother.\n\n\"I don't wonder at your blushing,\" said Glaucon.\n\nThat they are brothers and sisters, but of different metals--gold,\nsilver, brass, iron; not necessarily of the same metal as their parents\nin the flesh; and must take rank according to the metal whereof they are\nmade. No doubt it will take a generation or two to get them to believe\nit.\n\nAnd now our soldiers must pitch their camp for the defence of the city.\nSoldiering is their business, not money-making. They must live in\ncommon, supported efficiently by the state, having no private property.\nThe gold and silver in their souls is of God. For them, though not for\nthe other citizens, the earthly dross called gold is the accursed thing.\nOnce let them possess it, and they will cease to be guardians, and\nbecome oppressors and tyrants.\n\n\nIII.--_Of Justice and Communism_\n\nBut now we have to look for justice. Find the other three cardinal\nvirtues first, and then justice will be distinguishable. Wisdom is in\nthe guardians; if they be wise, the whole state will be wise. Courage we\nfind in the soldiers; courage is the true estimate of danger, and that\nhas been ingrained in them by their education. Temperance, called\nmastery of self, is really the mastery of the better over the baser\nqualities; as in our state the better class controls the inferior.\nTemperance would seem to lie in the harmonious inter-relation of the\ndifferent classes. Obviously, the remaining virtue of the state is the\nconstant performance of his own particular function in the state, and\nnot his neighbour's, by each member of the state. Let us see how that\nworks out in the individual.\n\nShall we not find that there are three several qualities in the\nindividual, each of which must in like manner do its own business, the\nintellectual, the passionate or spirited, and the lustful? They must be\nseparate, because one part of a thing cannot be doing contradictory\nthings at the same time; your lusts bid you do what your intelligence\nforbids; and the emotional quality is distinct from both desire and\nreason, though in alliance with reason. Well, here you have wisdom and\ncourage in the intellectual and spiritual parts, temperance in their\nmastery over desire; and justice is the virtue of the soul as a whole;\nof each part never failing to perform its own function and that alone.\nTo ask, now, whether justice or injustice is the more profitable becomes\nridiculous.\n\nNow we shall find that virtue is one, but that vice has several forms;\nas there is but one form of perfect state--ours--whether it happens to\nbe called a monarchy if there be but one guardian, or an aristocracy if\nthere be more; and, as it has four principal imperfect forms, so there\nare four main vices.\n\nHere Glaucon and Adeimantus refused to let me go on; I had shirked a\nserious difficulty. What about women and children? My saying that the\nsoldiers were to live in common might mean anything. What kind of\ncommunism was I demanding? Well, there are two different questions: What\nis desirable? And, What is possible? First, then, our defenders are our\nwatch-dogs. Glaucon knows all about dogs; we don't differentiate in the\ncase of males and females; the latter hunt with the pack. If women are\nsimilarly to have the same employments as men, they must have the same\neducation in music and gymnastic. We must not mind ribald comments. But\nshould they share masculine employments? Do they differ from men in such\na way that they should not? Women bear children, and men beget them; but\napart from that the differences are really only in degrees of capacity,\nnot essential distinctions of quality; even as men differ among\nthemselves. The natures being the same, the education must be the same,\nand the same careers must be open.\n\nBut a second and more alarming wave threatens us: Community of wives and\nchildren. \"You must prove both the possibility and desirability of\nthat.\" Men and women must be trained together and live together, but not\nin licentiousness. They must be mated with the utmost care for\nprocreation, the best being paired at due seasons, nominally by lot, and\nfor the occasion. The offspring of the selected will have a common\nnursery; the mothers will not know which were their own children.\nParentage will be permissible only between twenty-five and fifty-five,\nand between twenty and forty. The children begotten in the same batch of\nespousals will be brothers and sisters.\n\nThe absence of \"mine\" and \"thine\" will ensure unity, because it\nabolishes the primary cause of discord; common maintenance by the state\nremoves all temptation either to meanness or cringing. Our guardians\nwill be uncommonly happy. As to practicability: communism is suitable\nfor war. The youngsters will be taken to watch any fighting; cowards\nwill be degraded; valour will be honoured, and death on the field, with\nother supreme services to the state, will rank the hero among demigods.\nAgainst Greeks war must be conducted as against our own kith and kin.\nBut as to the possibility of all this--this third threatening wave is\nthe most terrific of all.\n\n\n_IV.--Of Philosophy in Rulers_\n\nIt will be possible then, and only then, when kings are philosophers or\nphilosophers kings. \"You will be mobbed and pelted for such a\nproposition.\" Still, it is the fact. The philosopher desires all\nknowledge. You know that justice, beauty, good, and so on, are single,\nthough their presentation is multiplex and variable. Curiosity about the\nmultiplex particulars is not desire of knowledge, which is of the one\nconstant idea--of that which is, as ignorance is of that which is not.\nWhat neither is nor is not, that which fluctuates and changes, is the\nsubject matter of opinion, a state between knowledge and ignorance.\nBeauty is beauty always and everywhere; the things that look beautiful\nmay be ugly from another point of view. Experience of beautiful things,\ncuriosity about them, must be distinguished from knowledge of beauty;\nthe philosopher is not to be confounded with the connoisseur, not\nknowledge with opinion. The philosopher is he who has in his mind the\nperfect pattern of justice, beauty, truth; his is the knowledge of the\neternal; he contemplates all time and all existence; no praises are too\nhigh for his character. \"No doubt; still, if that is so, why do\nprofessed philosophers always show themselves either fools or knaves in\nordinary affairs?\" A ship's crew which does not understand that the art\nof navigation demands a knowledge of the stars, will stigmatise a\nproperly qualified pilot as a star-gazing idiot, and will prevent him\nfrom navigating. The world assumes that the philosopher's abstractions\nare folly, and rejects his guidance. The philosopher is the best kind of\nman; the corrupted philosopher is the worst; and the corrupted\ninfluences brought to bear are irresistible to all but the very\nstrongest natures. The professional teachers of philosophy live not by\nleading popular opinion, but by pandering to it; a bastard brood trick\nthemselves out as philosophers, while the true philosopher withdraws\nhimself from so gross a world. Small wonder that philosophy gets\ndiscredited! Not in the soil of any existing state can philosophy grow\nnaturally; planted in a suitable state, her divinity will be apparent.\n\nI need no longer hesitate to say that we must make our guardians\nphilosophers. The necessary combination of qualities is extremely rare.\nOur test must be thorough, for the soul must be trained up by the\npursuit of all kinds of knowledge to the capacity for the pursuit of the\nhighest--higher than justice and wisdom--the idea of the good. \"But what\nis the good--pleasure, knowledge?\" No. To see and distinguish material\nthings, the faculty of sight requires the medium of light, whose source\nis the sun. The good is to the intellectual faculty what the sun is to\nthat of vision: it is the source and cause of truth, which is the light\nwhereby we perceive ideas; it is not truth nor the ideas, but above\nthem; their cause, as the sun is the source of light and the cause of\ngrowth.\n\nAgain, as the material things with which the eye is concerned are in two\ncategories--the copies, reflections or shadows of things, and actual\nthings--correspondingly the things perceived by the intellect are in a\nsecondary region--as the mathematical--where everything is derived from\nhypotheses which are assumed to be first principles; or in a supreme\nregion, in which hypotheses are orly the steps by which we ascend to the\nreal ultimate first principles themselves. And it will follow further\nthat the mind has four faculties appropriate to these four divisions,\nwhich we call respectively pure reason (the highest), understanding,\nconviction, and perception of shadows; the first pair being concerned\nwith being, the field of the intellect; the second pair with becoming,\nthe field of opinion.\n\n\n_V.--Of Shadows and Realities_\n\nLet me speak a parable. Humanity--ourselves--are as people dwelling ever\nbound and fettered in a twilit cave, with our backs to the light. Behind\nus is a parapet, and beyond the parapet a fire; all that we see is the\nshadows thrown on the wall that faces us by figures passing along the\nparapet behind us; all we hear is the echo of their voices. Now, if some\nof us are turned round to face the light and look on the real figures,\nthey will be dazzled at first, and much more if they are taken out into\nthe light, and up to face the sun himself; but presently they will see\nperfectly, and have all the joy thereof. Now send them back into the\ncave, and they will be apparently much blinder than the folk who have\nbeen there all the time, and their talk of what they have seen will be\ntaken for the babbling of fools, or worse. Small wonder that those who\nhave beheld the light have but little mind to return to the twilight\ncave which is the common world. But remember--everyone in the cave\npossesses the faculty of sight if only his eyes be turned to the light.\nLoose the fetters of carnal desires which hold him with his back to the\nlight, and every man _may_ be converted and live. So we must select\nthose who are most capable of facing the light, and see to it that they\nreturn to the cave, to give the cave-dwellers the benefit of their\nknowledge. And if this be for them a hardship, we must bear in mind as\nbefore, that the good of the whole is what matters, not whether one or\nanother may suffer hardship for the sake of the whole.\n\nHow, then, shall we train them to the passage from darkness to light?\nFor this, our education in music and gymnastic is wholly inadequate. We\nmust proceed first to the science of numbers, then of geometry, then of\nastronomy. And after astronomy, there is the sister science of abstract\nharmonics--not of audible sounds. All of which are but the prelude to\nthe ultimate supreme science of dialectic, which carries the\nintelligence to the contemplation of the idea of the good, the ultimate\ngoal. And here to attempt further explanation would be vanity. This is\nthe science of the pure reason, the coping-stone of knowledge.\n\nWe saw long ago that our rulers must possess every endowment of mind and\nbody, all cultivated to the highest degree. From the select we must\nagain select, at twenty, those who are most fit for the next ten years'\ncourse of education; and from them, at thirty, we shall choose those who\ncan, with confidence, be taken to face the light; who have been tested\nand found absolutely steadfast, not shaken by having got beyond the\nconventional view of things. We will give them five or six years of\nphilosophy; then fifteen years of responsible office in the state; and\nat fifty they shall return to philosophy, subject to the call upon them\nto take up the duties of rulership and of educating their successors.\n\n\n_VI.--Of State Types and Individual Types_\n\nBefore this digression we were on the point of discussing the four\nvitiated forms of the state, and the corresponding individual types. The\nfour types of state as we know them in Hellas, are: the Spartan, where\npersonal ambition and honour rule, which we call timocracy; the\noligarchical, where wealth rules; the democratic; and the arbitrary rule\nof the individual, which we call tyranny. The comparison of this\nlast--the supremely unjust--with our own--the supremely just--will show\nwhether justice or injustice be the more desirable.\n\nThe perfect state degenerates to timocracy when the state's numerical\nlaw of generation [an unsolved riddle] has not been properly observed,\nand inferior offspring have entered in consequence into the ruling body.\nThe introduction of private property will cause them to assume towards\nthe commonalty the attitude, not of guardians, but of masters, and to be\nat odds among themselves; also, in their education gymnastic will\nacquire predominance over music. Ambition and party spirit become the\ncharacteristic features. When, in an ill-ordered state a great man\nwithdraws from the corruption of politics into private life, we see the\ncorresponding individual type in the son of such a one, egged on by his\nmother and flattering companions, to win back for himself at all costs\nthe prestige which his father had resigned; personal ambition becomes\nhis dominant characteristic.\n\nOligarchy is the next outcome of the introduction of private property;\nriches outweigh virtue, love of money the love of honour, and the rich\nprocure for themselves the legal monopoly of political power. Here the\nstate becomes divided against itself--there is one state of the rich and\nanother of the poor--and the poor will be divided into the merely\nincompetent and the actively dangerous or predatory. And your\ncorresponding individual is he whose father had won honours which had\nnot saved him from ultimate ruin; so that the son rejects ambition and\nmakes money his goal, till, for the sake of money, he will compass any\nbaseness, though still only under a cloak of respectability.\n\nIn the oligarchy the avaricious encourage and foster extravagance in\ntheir neighbours. Men, ruined by money-lenders, turn on their moneyed\nrulers, overthrow them, and give everyone a share in the government. The\nresult is that the state is not one, nor two, but diverse. Folk say what\nthey like and do what they like, and anyone is a statesman who will wave\nthe national flag. That is democracy. Such is the son of your miserly\noligarch; deprived of unnecessary pleasures, he is tempted to wild\ndissipation. He has no education to help him to distinguish, and the\nvices of dissipation assume the aspect and titles of virtue. He\nfluctuates from one point of view to another--is one thing to-day and\nanother to-morrow.\n\nAnd last we come to tyranny and the tyrannical man. Democratic license\ndevelops into sheer anarchy. Jack is as good as his master. The\npredatory population becomes demagogues; they squeeze the decent\ncitizens, and drive them to adopt oligarchical methods; then the friend\nof the people appears; the protector, champion, and hero, by a familiar\nprocess becomes a military autocrat, who himself battens, as must also\nhis mercenary soldiery, on the citizens; and our unhappy Demos finds\nthat it has jumped out of the reek into the fire. Now our democratical\nman was swayed by the devices and moods of the moment; his son will be\nswayed by the most irrational and most bestial of his appetites; be\nbully and tyrant, while slave of his own lusts. Your thorough blackguard\nof every species comes of this type, and the worst of all is he who\nachieves the tyranny of a state. See, then, how, even as the tyrannic\nstate is the most utterly enslaved, so the tyrannic man is of all men\nthe least free; and, beyond all others, the tyrant of a state. He is\nlike a slave-owner, who is at the mercy of his slaves--the passions\nwhich he must pamper, or die, yet cannot satisfy. Surely such an one is\nthe veriest slave--yea, the most wretched of men. It follows that he who\nis the most complete opposite of the tyrant is the happiest--the\nindividual who corresponds to our state. Proclaim it, then, son of\nAriston, that the most just of men is he who is master of himself, and\nis of all men the most miserable, whether gods and men recognise him or\nno.\n\n\n_VII.--Of the Happiness of the Just_\n\nNow for a second proof. Three kinds of pleasure correspond to the three\nelements of the soul--reason, spirit, desire. In each man one of the\nthree is in the ascendant. One counts knowledge vain in comparison with\nthe advantages of riches, another with those of honour; to the\nphilosopher only truth counts. But he is the only one of them who makes\nhis choice from experience of all three kinds. And he, the only\nqualified judge, places the satisfaction of the spirit second, and of\ndesire lowest. And yet a third proof: I fancy the only quite real\npleasures are those of the philosopher. There is an intermediate state\nbetween pleasure and pain. To pass into this from pleasure is painful,\nand from pain is pleasurable. Now, the pleasures of the body are really\nnothing more than reliefs from pains of one kind or another. And, next,\nthe pleasures of the soul, being of the eternal order, are necessarily\nmore real than those of the body, which are fleeting--in fact, mere\nshadows of pleasure.\n\nMuch as I love and admire Homer, I think our regulations as to poetry\nwere particularly sound; but we must inquire further into the meaning of\nimitation. We saw before that all particular things are the\npresentations of some universal idea. There is one ultimate idea of bed,\nor chair, or table. What the joiner makes is a copy of that. All ideas\nare the creation of the master artificer, the demiurge; of his creations\nall material things are copies. We can all create things in a way by\ncatching reflections of them in a mirror. But these are only copies of\nparticular things from one point of view, partial copies of copies of\nthe idea. Such precisely are the creations of the painter, and in like\nmanner of the poet. What they know and depict is not the realities, but\nmere appearances. If the poets knew the realities they would have left\nus something other than imitations of copies. Moreover, what they\nimitate is not the highest but the lower; not the truth of reason, but\nemotions of all sorts, which it should be our business not to excite but\nto control and allay. So we continue to prohibit the poetry which is\nimitation, however supreme, and allow only hymns to the gods, and\npraises of great men. We must no more admit the allurements of poesy\nthan the attractions of ambition or of riches.\n\nGreater far are the rewards of virtue than all we have yet shown; for an\nimmortal soul should heed nothing that is less than eternal. \"What, is\nthe soul then immortal? Can you prove that?\" Yes, of a surety. In all\nthings there is good and evil; a thing perishes of its own corruption,\nnot of the corruption of aught external to it. If disease or injury of\nthe body cannot corrupt the soul, _a fortiori_ they cannot slay it; but\ninjustice, the corruption of the soul, is not induced by injury to the\nbody. If, then, the soul be not destroyed by sin, nothing else can\ndestroy it, and it is immortal. The number of existing souls must then\nbe constant; none perish, none are added, for additional immortal souls\nwould have to come out of what is mortal, which is absurd. Now, hitherto\nwe have shown only that justice is in itself best for the soul, but now\nwe see that its rewards, too, are unspeakably great. The gods, to whom\nthe just are known, will reward them hereafter, if not here; and even in\nthis world they have the better lot in the long run. But of this nothing\nis comparable to their rewards in the hereafter, revealed to us in the\nmythos of Er, called the Armenian, whose body being slain in battle, his\nsoul was said to have returned to it from the under-world--renewing its\nlife--a messenger to men of what he had there beheld. For a thousand\nyears the souls, being judged, enjoyed or suffered a tenfold retribution\nfor all they had done of good or evil in this life, and some for a\nsecond term, or it might be for terms without end. Then for the most\npart they were given again, after the thousand years, a choice of\nanother lot on the earth, being guided therein by their experience in\ntheir last life; and so, having drunk of the waters of forgetfulness,\ncame back to earth once more, unconscious of their past.\n\nLet us, then, believing that the soul is indeed immortal, hold fast to\nknowledge and justice, that it may be well with us both here and\nhereafter.\n\n\n\n\nARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER\n\nThe World as Will and Idea\n\n     Arthur Schopenhauer, who was born at Dantzig, in Germany, Feb. 22,\n     1788, and died September 21, 1860, came of highly intellectual\n     antecedents, his mother, Johanna Schopenhauer, being a noted German\n     authoress. As an indefatigable student he migrated, according to\n     the fashion of his Fatherland, from one university to another, in\n     order to sit at the feet of various professors, and thus he\n     attended courses at Gottingen, Berlin, and Jena successively,\n     finally graduating at Jena in 1813. The winter of that year he\n     spent at Weimar, revelling in the society of Goethe, and also\n     enjoying intercourse with Maier, the profound Orientalist, who\n     indoctrinated him with those views of Indian mysticism which\n     greatly influenced his future philosophic disquisitions. After\n     writing and publishing a few slight treatises Schopenhauer sent\n     forth his great work, \"The World as Will and Idea,\" which has\n     immortalized him. It appeared in 1819. During subsequent years,\n     when he resided in Frankfort, he wrote his volumes on \"Will in\n     Nature,\" \"The Freedom of the Will,\" \"The Basis of Morals,\" and\n     \"Parerga and Paralipomena.\" The keynote of Schopenhauer's\n     philosophy is that the sole essential reality in the universe is\n     the will, and that all visible and tangible phenomena are merely\n     subjective representations, or formal manifestations of that will\n     which is the only thing-in-itself that actually subsists. Thus he\n     stands among philosophers as the uncompromising antagonist of\n     Hegel, Fichte, Schelling and all the champions of the theory of\n     consciousness and absolute reason as the essential foundation of\n     the faculty of thought. The defect of his system is its tendency to\n     a sombre pessimism, but his literary style is magnificent and his\n     power of reasoning is exceptional. The epitome here given has been\n     prepared from the original German.\n\n\n_I.--The World as Idea_\n\n\"The world is my idea,\" is a truth valid for every living creature,\nthough only man can consciously contemplate it. In doing so he attains\nphilosophical wisdom. No truth is more absolutely certain than that all\nthat exists for knowledge, and therefore this whole world, is only\nobject in relation to subject, perception of a perceiver, in a word,\nidea. The world is idea.\n\nThis truth is by no means new; it lay by implication in the reflections\nof Descartes; but Berkeley first distinctly enunciated it; while Kant\nerred by ignoring it. So ancient is it that it was the fundamental\nprinciple of the Indian Vedanta, as Sir William Jones points out. In one\naspect the world is idea; in the other aspect, the world is will.\n\nThat which knows all things and is known by none is the subject; and for\nthis subject all exists. But the world as idea consists of two essential\nand inseparable halves. One half is the object, whose form consists of\ntime and space, and through these of multiplicity; but the other half is\nthe subject, lying not in space and time, for it subsists whole and\nundivided in every reflecting being. Thus any single individual endowed\nwith the faculty of perception of the object, constitutes the whole\nworld of idea as completely as the millions in existence; but let this\nsingle individual vanish, and the whole world as idea would disappear.\nEach of these halves possesses meaning and existence only in and through\nthe other, appearing with and vanishing with it. Where the object begins\nthe subject ends. One of Kant's great merits is that he discovered that\nthe essential and universal forms of all objects--space, time,\ncausality--lie _a priori_ in our consciousness, for they may be\ndiscovered and fully known from a consideration of the subject, without\nany knowledge of the object.\n\nIdeas of perception are distinct from abstract ideas. The former\ncomprehend the whole world of experience; the latter are concepts, and\nare possessed by man alone amongst all creatures on earth; and the\ncapacity for these, distinguishing him from the lower animals, is called\nreason.\n\nTime and space can each be mentally presented separately from matter,\nbut matter cannot be thought of apart from time and space. The\ncombination of time and space in connection with matter constitutes\naction, that is, causation. The law of causation arises from change,\nthat is from the fact that at the same part of space there is now one\nthing and then another, and this succession must be the result of some\nlaw of causality, seeing that there must be a determined part of space\nand a determined part of space for the change. Causality thus combines\nspace with time.\n\nMuch vain controversy has arisen concerning the reality of the external\nuniverse, owing to the fallacious notion that because perception arises\nthrough the knowledge of causality, the relation of subject and object\nis that of cause and effect. For this relation only subsists between\nobjects, that is between the immediate object and objects known\nindirectly. The object always pre-supposes the subject, and so there can\nbe between those two no relation of reason and consequent. Therefore the\ncontroversy between realistic dogmatism and doctrinal scepticism is\nfoolish. The former seeks to separate object and idea as cause and\neffect, whereas these two are really one; the latter supposes that in\nthe idea we have only the effect, never the cause, and never know the\nreal being, but merely its action. The correction of both these\nfallacies is the same, that object and idea are identical.\n\nOne of the most pressing of questions is, how certainty is to be\nreached, how judgments are to be established, and wherein knowledge and\nscience consist. Reason is feminine in nature; it can only give after it\nhas received. Of Itself it possesses only the empty forms of its\noperation. Knowledge is the result of reason, so that we cannot\naccurately say that the lower animals know anything, but only that they\napprehend through the faculty of perception.\n\nThe greatest value of knowledge is that it can be communicated and\nretained. This makes it inestimably important for practice. Rational or\nabstract knowledge is that knowledge which is peculiar to the reason as\ndistinguished from the understanding. The use of reason is that it\nsubstitutes abstract concepts for ideas of perception, and adopts them\nas the guide of action.\n\nThe many-sided view of life which man, as distinguished from the lower\nanimals, possesses through reason, makes him stand to them as the\ncaptain, equipped with chart, compass and quadrant, and with a knowledge\nof navigation of the ocean, stands to the ignorant sailors under his\ncommand.\n\nMan lives two lives. Besides his life in the concrete is his life in the\nabstract. In the former he struggles, suffers, and dies as do the mere\nanimal creatures. But in the abstract he quietly reflects on the plan of\nthe universe as does a captain of a ship on the chart. He becomes in\nthis abstract life of calm reasoning a deliberate observer of those\nelements which previously moved and agitated his emotions. Withdrawing\ninto this serene contemplation he is like an actor who has played a part\non the stage and then withdraws and as one of the audience quietly looks\non at other actors energetically performing.\n\nThe result of this double life is that human serenity which furnishes so\nvivid a contrast to the lack of reason in the brutes. Reason has won to\na wonderful extent the mastery over the animal nature. The climacteric\nstage of the mere exercise of reason is displayed in Stoicism, an\nethical system which aims primarily not at virtue but at happiness,\nalthough this theory inculcates that happiness can be attained only\nthrough \"ataraxia\" (inward quietness or peace of mind), while this can\nonly be gained by virtue. In other words, Zeno, the founder of the Stoic\ntheory, sought to lift man up above the reach of pain and misery. But\nthis use of pure reason involves a painful paradox, seeing that for an\nultimate way of escape Stoicism is constrained to prescribe suicide.\nWhen compared with the Stoic, how different appear the holy conquerors\nof the world in Christianity, that sublime form of life which presents\nto us a picture wherein we see blended perfect virtue and supreme\nsuffering.\n\n\n_II.--The World as Will_\n\nWe are compelled to further inquiry, because we cannot be satisfied with\nknowing that we have ideas, and that these are associated with certain\nlaws, the general expression of which is the principle of sufficient\nreason. We wish to know the significance of our ideas. We ask whether\nthis world is nothing more than a mere idea, not worthy of our notice if\nit is to pass by us like an empty dream or an airy vision, or whether it\nis something more substantial.\n\nWe can surely never arrive at the nature of things from without. No\nmatter how assiduous our researches may be, we can never reach anything\nbeyond images and names. We resemble a man going round a castle seeking\nvainly for an entrance and sometimes sketching the facades. And yet this\nis the method followed by all philosophers before me.\n\nThe truth about man is that he is not a pure knowing subject, not a\nwinged cherub without a material body, contemplating the world from\nwithout. For he is himself rooted in that world. That is to say, he\nfinds himself in the world as an _individual_ whose knowledge, which is\nthe essential basis of the whole world as idea, is yet ever communicated\nthrough the medium of the body, whose sensations are the starting point\nof the understanding of that world. His body is for him an idea like\nevery other idea, an object among objects. He only knows its actions as\nhe knows the changes in all other objects, and but for one aid to his\nunderstanding of himself he would find this idea and object as strange\nand incomprehensible as all others. That aid is _will_, which alone\nfurnishes the key to the riddle of himself, solves the problem of his\nown existence, reveals to him the inner structure and significance of\nhis being, his action, and his movements.\n\nThe body is the immediate object of will; it may be called the\n_objectivity of will_. Every true act of will is also instantly a\nvisible act of the body, and every impression on the body is also at\nonce an impression on the will. When it is opposed to the will it is\ncalled pain, and when consonant with the will it is called pleasure. The\nessential identity of body and will is shown by the fact that every\nviolent movement of the will, that is to say, every emotion, directly\nagitates the body and interferes with its vital functions. So we may\nlegitimately say, My body is the objectivity of my will.\n\nIt is simply owing to this special relation to one body that the knowing\nsubject is an individual. Our knowing, being bound to individuality,\nnecessitates that each of us can only be one, and yet each of us can\nknow all. Hence arises the need for philosophy. The double knowledge\nwhich each of us possesses of his own body is the key to the nature of\nevery phenomenon in the world. Nothing is either known to us or\nthinkable by us except will and idea. If we examine the reality of the\nbody and its actions, we discover nothing beyond the fact that it is an\nidea, except the will. With this double discovery reality is exhausted.\n\nWe can ascribe no other kind of reality to the material world. If we\nmaintain that it is something more than merely our idea, we must say\nthat in its inmost nature it is that which we discover in ourselves as\n_will_. But the acts of will have always a ground or reason outside\nthemselves in motives, which, however, never determine more than how we\nshall act at any given time or place under any given conditions or\ncircumstances. The will must have some manifestation, and the body is\nthat manifestation. By the movements of the body the will becomes\nvisible, and thus the body may be said to be the _objectification of the\nwill_. The perfect adaptation of the human and animal body to the human\nand animal will resembles, though it far exceeds, the correspondence\nbetween an instrument and its maker.\n\n\n_III.--The World as Idea. Second Aspect_\n\nWe have looked at the world as idea, object for a subject, and next at\nthe world as will. All students of Plato know that the different grades\nof objectification of will which are manifested in countless\nindividuals, and exist as their unrealized types or as the eternal forms\nof things, are the Platonic Ideas. Thus these various grades are related\nto individual things as their eternal forms or prototypes.\n\nThus the world in which we live is in its whole nature through and\nthrough _will_, and at the same time through and through _idea_. This\nidea always pre-supposes a form, object and subject. If we take away\nthis form and ask what then remains, the answer must be that this can be\nnothing but _will_, which, properly speaking, is the _thing in itself_.\nEvery human being discovers that he himself is this will, and that the\nworld exists only for him does so in relation to his consciousness. Thus\neach human being is himself in a double aspect the whole world, the\nmicrocosm. And that which he realizes as his own real being exhausts the\nbeing of the whole world, the macrocosm. So, like man, the world is\nthrough and through _will_, and through and through _idea_.\n\nPlato would say that an animal has no true being, but merely an apparent\nbeing, a constant becoming. The only true being is the Idea which\nembodies itself in that animal. That is to say, the Idea of the animal\nalone has true being, and is the object of real knowledge. Kant, with\nhis theory of \"the thing-in-itself\" as the only reality, would say that\nthe animal is only a phenomenon in time, space, and causality, which are\nconditions of our perception, not the thing-in-itself. So the individual\nas we see it at this particular moment will pass away, without any\npossibility of our knowing the thing-in-itself, for the knowledge of\nthat is beyond our faculties, and would require another kind of\nknowledge than that which is possible for us through our understanding.\n\nThus do these two greatest philosophers of the West differ. The\nthing-in-itself must, according to Kant, be free from all forms\nassociated with knowing. On the contrary, the Platonic idea is\nnecessarily object, something known and thus different from the\nthing-in-itself, which cannot be apprehended. Yet Kant and Plato tend to\nagree, because the thing-in-itself is, after all, that which lays aside\nall the subordinate forms of phenomena, and has retained the first and\nmost universal form, that of the idea in general, the form of being\nobject for a subject. Plato attributes actual being only to the Ideas,\nand concedes only an illusive, dream-like existence to things in space\nand time, the real world for the individual.\n\n\n_IV.--The World as Will. Second Aspect_\n\nThe last and most serious part of our consideration relates to human\naction and is of universal importance. Human nature tends to relate\neverything else to action. The world as idea is the perfect mirror of\nthe will, in which it recognizes itself in graduating scales of\ndistinctness and completeness. The highest degree of this consciousness\nis man, whose nature only completely expresses itself in the whole\nconnected series of his actions.\n\nWill is the thing-in-itself, the essence of the world. Life is only the\nmirror of the will. Life accompanies the will as the shadow the body. If\nwill exists, so will life. So long as we are actuated by the will to\nlive, we need have no fear of ceasing to live, even in the presence of\ndeath. True, we see the individual born and passing away; but the\nindividual is merely phenomenal. Neither the will, nor the subject of\ncognition, is at all affected by birth or death.\n\nIt is not the individual, but only the species, that Nature cares for.\nShe provides for the species with boundless prodigality through the\nincalculable profusion of seed and the great strength of fructification.\nShe is ever ready to let the individual fall when it had served its end\nof perpetuating the species. Thus does Nature artlessly express the\ngreat truth that only the Ideas, not the individuals, have actual\nreality and are complete objectivity of the will.\n\nMan is Nature himself, but Nature is only the objectified will to live.\nSo the man who has comprehended this point of view may well console\nhimself when contemplating death for himself or his friends, by turning\nhis eyes to the immortal life of Nature, which he himself is. And thus\nwe see that birth and death both really belong to life and that they\ntake part in that constant mutation of matter which is consistent with\nthe permanence of the species, notwithstanding the transitoriness of the\nindividual.\n\n\n_V.--The Will as Related to Time_\n\nAbove all, we must not forget that the form of the phenomenon of the\nwill, the form of life in reality, is really only the _present_, not the\nfuture nor the past. No man ever lived in the past, no man will live in\nthe future. The present is the sole form of life in sure possession. The\npresent exists always, together with its content, and both are fixed\nlike the rainbow on the waterfall.\n\nNow all object is the will so far as it has become idea, and the subject\nis the necessary correlative of the object. But real objects are in the\npresent only. So nothing but conceptions and fancies are included in the\npast, while the present is the essential form of the phenomenon of the\nwill, and inseparable from it. The present alone is perpetual and\nimmovable. The fountain and support of it is the will to live, or the\nthing-in-itself, which we are.\n\nLife is certain to the will, and the present is certain to life. Time is\nlike a perpetually revolving globe. The hemisphere which is sinking is\nlike the past, that which is rising is like the future, while the\nindivisible point at the top is like the actionless present. Or, time is\nlike a running river and the present is a rock on which it breaks but\nwhich it cannot remove with itself. Therefore we are not concerned to\ninvestigate the past antecedent to life, nor to speculate on the future\nsubsequent to death. We should simply seek to know the present, that\nbeing the sole form in which the will manifests itself. Therefore, if we\nare satisfied with life as it is, we may confidently regard it as\nendless and banish the fear of death as illusive. Our spirit is of a\ntotally indestructible nature, and its energy endures from eternity to\neternity. It is like the sun, which seems to set only to our earthly\neyes, but which, in reality, never sets, but shines on unceasingly.\n\nThe problem of the freedom of the will is solved by the considerations\nwhich have been thus outlined. Since the will is not phenomenon, is not\nidea or object, but thing-in-itself, is not determined as a consequent\nthrough any reason, and knows no necessity, therefore it is _free_. But\nthe person is never free, although he is the phenomenon of a free will,\nfor this indisputable reason, that he is already the determined\nphenomenon of the free volition of this will, and is constrained to\nembody the direction of that volition in a multiplicity of actions.\n\nRepentance never results from a change of will, for this is impossible,\nbut from a change of knowledge. The essential in what I have willed I\nmust continue to will, for I am identical with this will which lies\noutside time and change. Therefore I cannot repent of what I have\nwilled, though I can repent of what I have done; because, constrained by\nfalse notions, I was led to do what did not accord with my will.\nRepentance is simply the discovery of this fuller and more correct\nknowledge.\n\n\n\n\nSENECA\n\nOn Benefits\n\n     The more famous son of a famous rhetorician, the Roman philosopher\n     L. Annaeus Seneca was born at Corduba (Cordova), in Spain, about the\n     beginning of the Christian era. While the date of his birth is a\n     matter for conjecture, the circumstances of his death are\n     notorious. He was a victim of Nero's jealousy and ingratitude in 65\n     A.D., when the emperor seized upon a plot against himself as the\n     pretext for sentencing Seneca to enforced suicide. In the vivid\n     pages of the historian Tacitus, there are few more pathetic\n     descriptions than that recounting the slow ebbing of the old\n     philosopher's life after his veins had been opened. Seneca had\n     known many vicissitudes of fortune. He was banished from Rome in 41\n     A.D., but, after his recall, rose to great power and affluence as\n     tutor and adviser to Nero. His works, many of which are lost,\n     include tragedies, letters, and treatises on philosophy. The high\n     ethical standard maintained by Seneca favoured the legend that he\n     was influenced by the Apostle Paul, and a spurious correspondence\n     between them was long accepted as genuine. Of the moral works there\n     is, for insight into human nature and for generosity of impulse, no\n     better representative than that \"On Benefits.\"\n\n\n_I.--Benefits are to be Bestowed, Not Lent_\n\nAmong the many different mistakes made by those who take life as it\ncomes, and do not pause to consider, I should say that scarcely anything\nis so detrimental as this, that we do not know either how to confer or\nhow to receive a benefit. The consequence is that benefits are bad\ninvestments, and turn out bad debts; and in the cases where there is no\nreturn, it is too late to complain, for they were lost when we conferred\nthem. I should find it hard to say whether it is meaner for a receiver\nto repudiate a benefit, or for a giver to press for its repayment,\ninasmuch as a benefit is a sort of loan, whose return absolutely depends\non the spontaneous action of the debtor.\n\nWe find many men ungrateful; yet we make more men so, because at one\ntime we are insistent and harsh in our claims for return; at another\ntime we are fickle enough to regret our generosity. By such conduct we\nspoil the whole favour, not merely after giving, but at the very moment\nof giving. No one is glad to owe what he has not so much received as\nwrung out of his benefactor.\n\nCan anyone be grateful to a man who has contemptuously tossed him a\nfavour, or flung it at him in vexation, or out of sheer weariness given\nsimply to rid himself of trouble? A benefit is felt to be a debt in the\nsame spirit in which it is bestowed, and it ought not, therefore, to be\nbestowed recklessly, for a man thanks himself for what he obtains from\nan undiscerning giver.\n\nLet us bestow benefits, not lend them on interest. He who, in the act of\ngiving, has thoughts about repayment, deserves to be deceived. Well,\nthen, what if the benefit has turned out ill? Why, children or wives\noften disappoint our expectations, but we bring children up, we marry\nall the same; and so determined are we in the teeth of experience, that\nwhen baffled we fight better, when shipwrecked we take to sea again.\n\nHow much more seemly it is to be persistent in bestowing benefits! If a\nman does not give because he does not receive, he must have given in\norder to receive, and that justifies ingratitude. How many are there who\nare unworthy of the light of day, and nevertheless the sun rises.\n\nThis is the property of a great and good mind, to seek not the fruit of\ngood deeds but good deeds themselves, and to search for a good man even\nafter having met with bad men. If there were no cheats, what nobility\nwould there be in showing bounty to many? As it is, goodness lies in\ngiving benefits for which we are not sure of recompense, but of which\nthe fruit is at once enjoyed by a noble mind.\n\nThe book-keeping of benefits is simple: so much is expenditure; if\nthere is any return, that is clear gain; if there is no return, that is\nnot a loss. I gave it for the sake of giving. No one registers his\nbenefits in a ledger, or, like an exacting usurer, presses to the day\nand hour for repayment. An honourable man never thinks of such matters,\nunless reminded by someone returning a favour; otherwise they assume the\nform of a debt.\n\nDo not hesitate, then; persevere in your generous work. Assist one with\nyour means, another with credit, another with your favour, or your\nadvice, or a word in season. Is he ungrateful for one benefit? After\nreceiving a second, perhaps he will not be so. Has he forgotten two?\nPerhaps the third kindness will bring back the recollection of those\nthat slipped his mind.\n\nThe subject we have to treat is that of benefits. We have to lay down an\nordered account of what is the chief bond of human society: we have to\nprescribe a rule of life, such that inconsiderate open-handedness may\nnot commend itself under the guise of kindness, but also that our\ncaution, while it controls, may not strangle generosity, which ought to\nbe neither defective nor excessive.\n\nPeople must be instructed to receive cheerfully and to repay cheerfully,\nsetting before themselves the high aim of not merely equalling but\nsurpassing those to whom they are obliged, and this both in act and in\nfeeling. It is necessary to point out that the first point which we have\nto learn is what we owe for a kindness received. One says he owes the\nmoney which he got, another a consulship, another a province. These,\nhowever, are but the outward tokens of good services, not the services\nthemselves. A benefit is to the hand something intangible; it is a\nprocess in the mind. There is a world of difference between the material\nof a benefit and the benefit itself. Hence the reality of a benefit lies\nnot in gold, nor silver, but in the good will of the giver. The things\nwhich we hold in our hands, which we look at, and on which our desire is\nset, are perishable; misfortune or injustice may rob us of them; but a\nkindness lasts even after the loss of what was given.\n\nWhat, then, is a benefit? It is the doing of a kindness which gives\npleasure and in the giving gets pleasure, being inclined and\nspontaneously ready for that which it does. Consequently, it is not the\nthing done or the thing given that matters, it is the intention. The\nspirit animating the act is what exalts trivial things, throws lustre on\nmean things, while it can discredit great and highly valued ones. The\nbenefit itself does not consist in what is paid or handed over, just as\nthe worship of the gods lies not in the victims offered but in the\ndutiful and upright feelings of the worshippers. If benefits consisted\nin things, and not in the actual wish to benefit, then the more things\nwe got, the greater would the benefit be. But this is incorrect, for\nsometimes the man who has given a little in a noble way obliges us more\ndeeply; the man, that is, who has forgotten his own poverty in his\nregard for mine.\n\nWhat comes from a willing hand is far more acceptable than what comes\nfrom a full hand. \"It was a small favour for him to do\"; yes, but he\ncould do no more. \"But it is a great thing which this other gave\"; yes,\nbut he hesitated, delayed, grumbled in the giving, gave disdainfully, or\nhe made a show of it and had no mind to please the person on whom he\nbestowed it. Why, such a man made a present to his own pride, not to me!\n\n\n_II.--On Kinds of Benefits and the Manner of Giving_\n\nLet us give, in the first place, what is necessary; secondly, what is\nuseful; next, what is pleasant, and one should add, what is likely to\nlast. We must begin with what is necessary; for a matter involving life\nappeals to the mind differently from mere adornment and equipment.\n\nA man may be a fastidious critic in the case of a thing which he can do\nwithout. But necessary things are those without which we cannot live, or\nwithout which we ought not to live, or without which we do not want to\nlive. Examples of the first group are, to be rescued from the hands of\nthe enemy, from a tyrant's anger, and the other chequered perils that\nbeset human life. Whichsoever of these we avert, we shall earn gratitude\nproportionate to the terrible magnitude of the danger.\n\nNext come things without which, it is true, we can live, yet only in\nsuch plight that death were better; such things are freedom, chastity,\nand good conscience. After these we shall rank things dear to us from\nassociation, blood-ties, use, and custom; such as children, wife, home,\nand all else round which affection has so entwined itself that it views\nseverance from them as more serious than severance from life. There is\nthe subsequent class of things useful, a wide and varied class,\nincluding money, not superabundant, but suited to a sensible mode of\nliving; and public office, with advancement for those who look high.\n\nAgain, we ought to consider what gift will afford the greatest pleasure;\nand particularly ought we to take care not to send useless presents,\nsuch as weapons of the chase to a woman or an old man, or books to a\nblock-head, or hunting nets to a person engrossed in literary pursuits.\nWe shall be equally careful, on the other hand, while we wish to send\nwhat will please, not to insult friends in the matter of their\nindividual failing; not to send wines to a toper, for instance, or drugs\nto a valetudinarian. Further, if free choice in giving lies in our\npower, we shall beyond everything select lasting gifts, in order that\nthe present may be as little perishable as possible; for few are so\ngrateful as to think of what they have received when they do not see it.\nEven the ungrateful have flashes of recollection when a gift is before\ntheir eyes.\n\nIn a benefit there should be common sense. One should think of time,\nplace, individuals; on these factors turn the welcome or unwelcome\nquality of gifts. How much more acceptable it is if we give what one\ndoes not possess, than if we give that of which he has abundance and to\nspare! Or the thing of which he has been long in quest without finding\nit, rather than what he is likely to see everywhere! A benefit bestowed\nupon all and sundry is acceptable to none. What you wish people to feel\ngrateful for, do seldom. Let no one misconstrue this as an attempt to\ncheck generosity: by all means let her go any length she will; but she\nmust go steady, not gad about.\n\nSo let every recipient have some special mark about his gifts which may\nlead him to trust that he has been admitted to particular favour. Let\nhim say: \"I got the same as that man, but my gift came unasked\"; or, \"I\ngot what that man did; but I secured it within a short period, whereas\nhe had earned it by long waiting\"; or, \"There are others who have the\nsame; but it was not given with the same words, nor the same courtesy on\nthe part of the giver.\" Yet let discretion wait on bounty; for no\ndelight can come of random gifts. I object to generosity becoming\nextravagance.\n\nAs to this question of how to give, I think I can point out the shortest\nway: let us give in the manner in which we should like to receive; above\nall, let it be done willingly, promptly, without the least hesitation.\nThe most welcome benefits are those which are at hand for the taking,\nwhich come to meet us, where the one delay lies in the recipient's\nmodesty.\n\nThe best course is to forestall a man's wishes; next best, to follow\nthem. He who has got after asking, has not secured the favour for\nnothing; since nothing costs so much as that which is bought by prayers.\n\"I beg you\" is a painful phrase; it is irksome, and has to be said with\nhumble looks. Spare your friend, spare anyone you hope to make your\nfriend, this necessity. However prompt, a benefactor gives too late\nwhen he gives by request.\n\nAll philosophers counsel that some benefits be given in public (like\nmilitary decorations), others in secret (like those that succour\nweakness, want, or disgrace). Sometimes the very person helped must be\ndeceived into taking our bounty without knowing its origin. One may\ninsist, \"I wish him to know\"; but on that principle will you refuse to\nsave a man's life in the dark? Why should I not abstain from showing him\nthat I have given him anything, when it is one of the cardinal rules\nnever to reproach a man with what you have done for him, and not even to\nremind him of it? For this is the law of benefits as between the two\nparties; the one must at once forget what he has given, the other must\nnever forget what he has received.\n\n\n_III.--On the Receiving of Benefits_\n\nNow, let us cross to the other side, to treat of the behaviour which\nbecomes men in receiving benefits. \"From who are we to receive?\" To\nanswer you briefly, I should say, \"From those to whom we should have\nliked to give.\" It is a severe torment to be indebted to anyone against,\nyour will; on the other hand, it is more delightful to have received a\nbenefit from one whom you could love even after he has done you a wrong.\n\nThe truth is that more care must be taken in the choice of a creditor\nfor a benefit than for money; for the latter must have back only as much\nas I received, but the former must have more paid to him. And even after\nrepayment of the favour, we nevertheless remain bound to each other.\nThus an unworthy person is not to be admitted into that most sacred bond\nof kindnesses bestowed whence friendship arises. \"But,\" it is pleaded,\n\"I cannot always say 'No.'\" Suppose the offer is from a cruel and\nhot-tempered despot, who will interpret your rejection of his bounty as\nan insult?\n\nWell, when I say you ought to choose, I except superior force and\nintimidation; for these are factors which destroy choice. But after we\nhave decided on acceptance, let us accept with cheerfulness, showing our\ngratification, and let it be evident to the giver, so that he may have\nsome immediate return.\n\nThere are some who like to receive benefits only in private, for they\nobject to a witness and confidant. One may conclude that such persons\nhave no good intentions. Other men speak most offensively of their\ngreatest benefactors. There are some people whom it is safer to affront\nthan to serve, since by their dislike they seek to give the impression\nof being under no obligation. One ought to accept without fastidious\naffectation, and without cringing humility; for if a man shows small\ncare at the time of bestowal, when every newly-conferred benefit should\nplease, what will he do when the first glow of pleasure has cooled down?\n\n\n_IV.--Ingratitude_\n\nWe must now investigate the main cause of ingratitude. It is caused by\nexcessive self-esteem, the fault inherent in mortality of partiality to\nourselves and all that concerns us; or it is caused by greed; or by\njealousy. Let us begin with the first of these. Everybody is a\nfavourable judge of his own interest; hence it comes that he believes\nhimself to have earned all he has received, and views a benefit as\npayment for services.\n\nNor does greed allow anyone to be grateful, for a gift is never\nsufficient for its exorbitant expectations. Of all these hindrances to\ngratitude, the most violent and distressing vice is jealousy, which\ntorments us with comparisons of this nature: \"He bestowed this on me,\nbut more upon _him_, and he gave it _him_ earlier.\" There is no\nkindness so complete that malignity cannot pull it to pieces, and none\nso paltry that a friendly interpreter may not enlarge it. You shall\nnever fail of an excuse for grumbling if you look at benefits on their\nwrong side.\n\nSee how certain men--yes, even some who make a profession of their\nphilosophy--pass unfair censures upon the gifts of heaven. They complain\nbecause we do not equal elephants in bulk of body, harts in swiftness,\nbirds in lightness, bulls in vigour. But what has been denied to mankind\ncould not have been given. Wherefore, whosoever thou art that\nundervaluest human fortune, bethink thee what blessings our Father has\nbestowed upon us, how many beasts more powerful than ourselves we have\ntamed to the yoke, how many swifter creatures we overtake, and how\nnothing mortal is placed beyond the reach of our weapons.\n\nNot to return gratitude for benefits is base in itself, and is held base\nin all men's opinion. Therefore, even the ungrateful men complain of the\nungrateful, and yet all the time this failing, which none commend, is\nfirmly planted in all; so perverse is human nature that we find some\nbecome our deadliest enemies, not merely after benefits received, but\nfor those very favours. I cannot deny but that this befalls some from a\nkink in their disposition; yet more act so because the interposition of\ntime has extinguished the remembrance. Ungrateful is the man who denies\nthat he has received a good turn which has been done him; ungrateful is\nhe who pretends he has not received it; ungrateful is he who makes no\nreturn; but the most ungrateful of all is he who has forgotten.\n\nThere is a question raised whether so hateful a vice ought to go\nunpunished. Now, with the exception of Macedonia, there is no country\nwhere an action at law is possible for ingratitude. And this is a strong\nargument that no such action should be granted. This most frequent crime\nis nowhere punished, although everywhere condemned. Many reasons occur\nto me whereby it must needs follow that this fault ought not to come\nunder the purview of law. First of all, the best part of a benefit is\nlost if a lawsuit is allowable, as in the case of a definite loan.\nAgain, whereas it is a most honourable thing to show gratitude, it\nceases to be honourable if it be forced. By such coercion we should\nspoil two of the finest things in human life--a grateful man and a\nbountiful giver. \"What, then? Shall the ungrateful man be left\nunchastised?\" My answer is: \"What, then? Shall the undutiful man be left\nunchastised--the malignant man, or the avaricious, or the man with no\nself-control, or the cruel? Dost thou think that goes unpunished which\nis loathed? Dost thou not call him unhappy who has lost his eyesight, or\nwhose hearing has been impaired by disease? And dost thou not call him\nmiserable who has lost the sense of feeling benefits?\"\n\n\n_V.--Divine Benefits to Man_\n\nWho is there so wretched, so totally forlorn, who has been born under so\nhard a fate and to such travail as never to have felt the vastness of\nthe Divine generosity? Look even at those who complain of and live\nmalcontent with their lot, and you will find they are not altogether\nwithout a portion in the celestial generosity; and there is none on whom\nsome drops have not fallen from that most gracious fountain. God not\ngive benefits! Whence, then, all you possess, all you give, or refuse or\nkeep or seize?\n\nWhence comes the infinity of delights for eye, ear, and understanding?\nWhence that abundance that even furnishes our luxury? Think of all the\ntrees in their rich variety, the many wholesome herbs, and such\ndiversity of foods apportioned among the seasons that even the sluggard\nmight find sustenance from the casual bounty of earth. Whence come\nliving creatures of every kind, some bred on solid dry land, some in\nwater, others speeding through the air, to the end that every part of\nnature may yield us some tribute? Those rivers, too, that, with their\npretty bends, environ the plains, or afford a passage for merchandise as\nthey flow down their broad, navigable channel? What of the springs of\nmedicinal waters? What of the bubbling forth of hot wells upon the very\nseashore?\n\n  And what of thee, O mighty Larian Lake?\n  And thee, Benacus, whom wild waves shake?\n\n\"Nature,\" remarks my critic, \"gives all this.\" Do you not realise that\nin saying this you simply change the name of God? For what else is\n\"nature\" but God and Divine Reason pervading the whole universe and all\nits parts?\n\nIt is a question whether one who has done all in his power to return a\nbenefit has returned it. Our opponent urges that the fact that he tried\neverything proves that he did not in fact succeed in returning it; and,\ntherefore, evidently that he could not have done a thing for which he\nfound no opportunity. But if a physician has done all in his power to\neffect a cure, he has performed his duty.\n\nSo your friend did all in his power to repay you a good turn, only your\ngood fortune stood in his way. He could not give money to the wealthy,\nnurse one in good health, or run to your aid when all was prosperous. On\nthe other hand, if he had forgotten a benefit received, if he had not\neven tried to be grateful, you would say he had not shown gratitude; but\nas it was, he laboured day and night, to the neglect of other claims, to\nlet no chance of proving his thankfulness escape him.\n\n\n\n\nHERBERT SPENCER\n\nEducation\n\n     Herbert Spencer was born at Derby, in England, in 1820. He was\n     taught by his father who was a teacher, and by his uncle, a\n     clergyman. At the age of seventeen he became a civil engineer, but\n     about eight years later abandoned the profession because he\n     believed it to be overcrowded. In 1848 he was engaged on the\n     \"Economist,\" and five years later he began to write for the\n     quarterly reviews. Spencer's little book on Education dates from\n     1861, and has probably been more widely read than all his other\n     works put together, having been translated into almost all\n     civilised, and several primitive languages. It is generally\n     recognised as having effected the greatest educational reform of\n     the nineteenth century. It was certainly the most powerful of\n     single agents in effecting the liberation of girlhood from its\n     unnatural trammels. It placed the whole theory of education upon a\n     sound biological basis in the nature of the child and the natural\n     course of its evolution as a living creature. Spencer struck a\n     fatal blow at the morbid asceticism by proxy which adults used to\n     practice upon their children, and so great has been the influence\n     of his work for the amelioration of childhood that he is certainly\n     to be counted with the philanthropic on this ground. The first\n     chapter has no equal in literature in its splendidly sober praise\n     of natural knowledge. The wide knowledge which Spencer's writings\n     display of physical science, and his constant endeavor to\n     illustrate and support his system by connecting its position with\n     scientific facts and laws have given his philosophy great currency\n     among men of science--more so, indeed, than among philosophical\n     experts. Spencer died December 8, 1903.\n\n\n_I.--What Knowledge is of Most Worth?_\n\nIt has been truly remarked that in order of time decoration precedes\ndress, the idea of ornament predominates over that of use. It is curious\nthat the like relations hold with the mind. Among mental, as among\nbodily acquisitions, the ornamental comes before the useful. Alike in\nthe Greek schools as in our own, this is the case. Men dress their\nchildren's minds as they do their bodies in the prevailing fashion; and\nin the treatment of both mind and body, the decorative element has\ncontinued to predominate in an even greater degree among women than\namong men. The births, deaths, and marriages of kings, and other like\nhistoric trivialities are committed to memory, not because of any direct\nbenefit that can possibly result from knowing them, but because society\nconsiders them parts of a good education--because the absence of such\nknowledge may bring the contempt of others. Not what knowledge is of the\nmost real worth is the consideration; but what will bring most applause,\nhonour, respect--what will be the most imposing. As throughout life not\nwhat we are but what we shall be thought is the question, so in\neducation the question is not the intrinsic value of knowledge so much\nas its extrinsic effect on others; and this being our dominant idea,\ndirect utility is scarcely more regarded than by the barbarian when\nfiling his teeth and staining his nails.\n\nThe comparative worths of different kinds of knowledge have been as yet\nscarcely even discussed. But before there can be a curriculum, we must\ndetermine, as Bacon would have said, the relative value of knowledges.\n\nTo this end a measure of value is the first requisite, and here there\ncan happily be no dispute. How to live?--that is the essential question\nfor us. To prepare us for complete living is the function which\neducation is to discharge. We must therefore classify the leading kinds\nof activity which constitute human life. In order of importance they are\n(1) those which directly minister to self-preservation, (2) those which\nby securing the necessaries of life indirectly minister to\nself-preservation, (3) those which have for their end the rearing and\ndiscipline of offspring, (4) those which are involved in the maintenance\nof proper social and political relations, (5) those miscellaneous\nactivities which fill up the leisure part of life, devoted to the\ngratification of the tastes and feelings.\n\nIt can easily be shown that these stand in something like their true\norder of subordination, and such should be the order of education. It\nmust give attention to all of these; greatest where the value is\ngreatest; less where the value is less; least where the value is least.\n\nHappily that all-important part of education which goes to secure direct\nself-preservation is in great part already provided for. Too momentous\nto be left to our blundering, nature takes it into her own hands, but\nthere must be no such thwarting of nature as that by which stupid\nschool-mistresses commonly prevent the girls in their charge from the\nspontaneous physical activities they would indulge in; and so render\nthem comparatively incapable of taking care of themselves in\ncircumstances of peril.\n\nBut more is needed, and it is that we should learn the laws of life and\nof health. This depends upon science, yet that increasing acquaintance\nwith the laws of phenomena which has through successive ages enabled us\nto subjugate nature to our needs, and in these days gives the common\nlabourer comforts which a few centuries ago kings could not purchase, is\nscarcely in any degree old to the appointed means of instructing our\nyouth. The vital knowledge--that by which we have grown as a nation to\nwhat we are, and which underlies our whole existence--is a knowledge\nthat has got itself taught in nooks and corners, while the ordained\nagencies for teaching have been mumbling little else than dead formulas.\n\nHitherto we have made no preparation whatever for the third great\ndivision of human activities--the care of offspring, on which no word of\ninstruction is ever given to those who will by and by be parents. Yet\nthat parents should begin the difficult task of rearing children,\nwithout ever having given a thought to the principles, physical, moral,\nor intellectual, which ought to guide them, excites neither surprise at\nthe actors nor pity for their victims. To tens of thousands that are\nkilled, and hundreds of thousands that survive with feeble\nconstitutions, add millions that grow up with constitutions not so\nstrong as they should be, and you will have some idea of the curse\ninflicted on their offspring by parents ignorant of the laws of life.\n\nArchitecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry may truly be called\nthe efflorescence of civilised life, but the production of a healthy\ncivilised life must be the first condition. The vice of our educational\nsystem is that it neglects the plant for the sake of the flower. In\nanxiety for elegance it forgets substance, preparing not at all for the\ndischarge of parental functions and for the duties of citizenship, by\nimparting a mass of facts most of which are irrelevant, and the rest\nwithout a key. But the accomplishment of all those things which\nconstitute the efflorescence of civilisation should be wholly\nsubordinate to that instruction and discipline on which civilisation\nrests. As they occupy the leisure part of life, so should they occupy\nthe leisure part of education.\n\nYet in this remaining sphere of activity, also, scientific knowledge is\nfundamental, and only when genius is married to science can the highest\nresults be produced; indeed, not only does science underlie the arts,\nbut science is itself poetic. The current opinion that science and\npoetry are opposed is a delusion. On the contrary, science opens up\nrealms of poetry where to the unscientific all is blank. Think you that\nthe rounded rock marked with parallel scratches calls up as much poetry\nin an ignorant mind as in the mind of a geologist, who knows that over\nthis rock a glacier slid a million years ago? The truth is that those\nwho have never entered upon scientific pursuits are blind to most of the\npoetry by which they are surrounded. Sad indeed is it to see how many\nmen occupy themselves with trivialities, and are indifferent to the\ngrandest phenomena--care not to understand the architecture of the\nheavens, but are deeply interested in some contemptible controversy\nabout the intrigues of Mary Queen of Scots are learnedly critical over a\nGreek ode, and pass by without a glance that grand epic written by the\nfinger of God upon the strata of the earth!\n\nIf we examine the value of science as discipline, its priority is still\nassured, whether for discipline of memory, or of judgment, or for moral\ndiscipline. Also, the discipline of science is superior to that of our\nordinary education because of the religious culture that it gives.\nDoubtless, to the superstitions that pass under the name of religion,\nscience is antagonistic; but not to the essential religion which these\nsuperstitions merely hide; doubtless, too, in much of the science that\nis current there is a pervading spirit of irreligion, but not in that\ntrue science which has passed beyond the superficial into the profound.\n\nNot science, but the neglect of science, is irreligious; devotion to\nscience is a tacit worship--a tacit recognition of worth in the things\nstudied; and by implication in their Cause. Only the genuine man of\nscience can truly know how utterly beyond not only human knowledge, but\nhuman conception, is the Universal Power of which Nature and Life and\nThought are manifestations.\n\n\n_II.--Intellectual Education_\n\nWhile \"believe and ask no questions\" was the maxim of the church, it was\nfitly the maxim of the schools. In that age men also believed that a\nchild's mind could be made to order, that its powers were to be imparted\nby the schoolmaster; that it was a receptacle into which knowledge was\nto be put and there built up after the teacher's idea. But now we are\nlearning that there is a natural process of mental evolution which is\nnot to be disturbed without injury; that we may not force on the\nunfolding mind our artificial forms, but that psychology, like\neconomics, discloses to us a law of supply and demand, to which, if we\nwould not do harm, we must conform.\n\nThe forcing system has been by many given up, and precocity is\ndiscouraged. People are beginning to see that the first requisite to\nsuccess in life is to be a good animal. The once universal practice of\nlearning by rote is daily falling into discredit. We are substituting\nprinciples for rules, as is exemplified in the abandonment of that\nintensely stupid custom, the teaching of grammar to children. But of all\nthe changes taking place, the most significant is the growing desire to\nmake the acquirement of knowledge pleasurable rather than painful--a\ndesire based on the more or less distinct perception that at each age\nthe intellectual action which a child likes is a healthy one for it; and\nconversely. We are on the highway towards the doctrine long ago\nenunciated by Pestalozzi that alike in its order and its methods,\neducation must conform to the natural process of mental evolution.\nEducation should be a repetition of civilisation in little. Children\nshould be told as little as possible and induced to discover as much as\npossible. The need for perpetual telling results from our stupidity, not\nfrom the child's. We drag it away from the facts in which it is\ninterested, and which it is actively assimilating of itself. We put\nbefore it facts far too complex for it to understand, and therefore\ndistasteful to it. By denying the knowledge it craves, and cramming it\nwith knowledge it cannot digest, we produce a morbid state of its\nfaculties; and a consequent disgust for knowledge in general. And having\nby our method induced helplessness, we make the helplessness a reason\nfor our method.\n\nEducation of some kind should begin from the cradle. Whoever has watched\nwith any discernment the wide-eyed gaze of the infant at surrounding\nobjects, knows very well that education _does_ begin thus early, whether\nwe intend it or not; and that these fingerings and suckings of\neverything it can lay hold of, these open-mouthed listenings to every\nsound, are first steps in the series which ends in the discovery of\nunseen planets, the invention of calculating engines, the production of\ngreat paintings, or the composition of symphonies and operas. This\nactivity of the faculties from the very first, being spontaneous and\ninevitable, the question is whether we shall supply in due variety the\nmaterials on which they may exercise themselves; and to the question so\nput, none but an affirmative answer can be given. Here we must take the\ncourse which psychology dictates.\n\nWhat can be more manifest than the desire of children for intellectual\nsympathy? Mark how the infant sitting on your knee thrusts into your\nface the toy it holds, that you may look at it. See when it makes a\ncreak with its wet finger on the table, how it turns and looks at you;\ndoes it again, and again looks at you; thus saying as clearly as it\ncan--\"Hear this new sound.\" Watch the elder children coming into the\nroom exclaiming--\"Mamma, see what a curious thing;\" \"Mamma, look at\nthis;\" \"Mamma, look at that;\" a habit which they would continue did not\nthe silly mamma tell them not to tease her. Does not the induction lie\non the surface? Is it not clear that we must conform our course to these\nintellectual instincts--that we must just systematise the natural\nprocess--that we must listen to all the child has to tell us about each\nobject, and thence proceed? To tell a child this, and to show it the\nother, is not to teach it how to observe, but to make it a mere\nrecipient of another's observations; a proceeding which weakens rather\nthan strengthens its power of self-instruction.\n\nObject lessons should be arranged to extend to things far wider and\ncontinue to a period far later than now; they should not be limited to\nthe contents of the house, but should include those of the fields and\nhedges, the quarry and the seashore; they should not cease with early\nchildhood, but should be so kept up during youth as insensibly to merge\ninto the investigation of the naturalist and the man of science.\n\nWe are quite prepared to hear from many that all this is throwing away\ntime and energy; and that children would be much better occupied in\nwriting their copies and learning their pence tables, and so fitting\nthemselves for the business of life. We regret that such crude ideas of\nwhat constitutes education, and such a narrow conception of utility,\nshould still be prevalent. But this gross utilitarianism which is\ncontent to come into the world and quit it again without knowing what\nkind of a world it is, or what it contains, may be met on its own\nground. It will by and by be found that a knowledge of the laws of life\nis more important than any other knowledge whatever--that the laws of\nlife underlie not only all bodily and mental processes, but by\nimplication all the transactions of the house and the street, all\ncommerce, all politics, all morals--and that therefore without a\ncomprehension of them, neither personal nor social conduct can be\nrightly regulated. It will eventually be seen, too, that the laws of\nlife are essentially the same throughout the whole organic creation.\n\nNo one can compare the faces and manners of two boys--the one made happy\nby mastering interesting subjects, and the other made miserable by\ndisgust with his studies, by consequent inability, by cold looks, by\nthreats, by punishment--without seeing that the disposition of one is\nbeing benefited and that of the other injured. Whoever has marked the\neffects of success and failure upon the mind and the power of the mind\nover the body, will see that in the one case both temper and health are\nfavourably affected, while in the other there is danger of permanent\nmoroseness, of permanent timidity, and even of permanent constitutional\ndepression.\n\nAs suggesting a final reason for making education a process of\nself-instruction, and by consequence a process of pleasurable\ninstruction, we may advert to the fact that, in proportion as it is made\nso, there is a probability that it will not cease when schooldays end.\nAs long as the acquisition of knowledge is rendered habitually\nrepugnant, so long will there be a prevailing tendency to discontinue it\nwhen free from the coercion of parents and masters. And when the\nacquisition of knowledge has been rendered habitually gratifying, then\nthere will be as prevailing a tendency to continue, without\nsuperintendence, that self-culture previously carried on under\nsuperintendence.\n\n\n_III.--Moral Education_\n\nThe greatest defect in our programmes of education is entirely\noverlooked. Though some care is taken to fit youths of both sexes for\nsociety and citizenship, no care whatever is taken to fit them for the\nposition of parents. While it is seen that for the purpose of gaining a\nlivelihood, an elaborate preparation is needed, it appears to be thought\nthat for the bringing up of children no preparation whatever is needed.\nWhile many years are spent by a boy in gaining knowledge of which the\nchief value is that it constitutes the \"education of a gentleman,\" and\nwhile many years are spent by a girl in those decorative acquirements\nwhich fit her for evening parties, not an hour is spent by either in\npreparation for a family. Is it that this responsibility is but a remote\ncontingency? On the contrary, it is sure to devolve on nine out of ten.\nIs it that the discharge of it is easy? Certainly not: of all functions\nwhich the adult has to fulfil, this is the most difficult. Is it that\neach may be trusted by self-instruction to fit himself, or herself, for\nthe office of parent? No: not only is the need for such self-instruction\nunrecognised, but the complexity of the subject renders it the one of\nall others in which self-instruction is least likely to succeed. No\nrational plea can be put forward for leaving the art of education out of\nour curriculum. Whether as bearing on the happiness of parents\nthemselves, or whether as affecting the characters and lives of their\nchildren and remote descendants, we must admit that a knowledge of the\nright method of juvenile culture, physical, intellectual and moral, is a\nknowledge of extreme importance. This topic should be the final one in\nthe course of instruction passed through by each man and woman. As\nphysical maturity is marked by the ability to produce offspring, so\nmental maturity is marked by the ability to train those offspring. _The\nsubject which involves all other subjects, and therefore the subject in\nwhich education should culminate, is the THEORY AND PRACTICE OF\nEDUCATION._\n\nOur system of moral control must again be based upon nature, who\nillustrates to us in the simplest way the true theory and practice of\nmoral discipline. The natural reactions which follow the child's\nwrong-doings are constant, direct, unhesitating, and not to be escaped.\nNo threats; but a silent rigorous performance. If a child runs a pin\ninto its finger, pain follows; if it does it again, there is again the\nsame result; and so on perpetually. In all its dealings with inorganic\nnature it finds this unswerving persistence, which listens to no excuse,\nand from which there is no appeal; and very soon recognising this stern\nthough beneficent discipline, it soon becomes extremely careful not to\ntransgress. These general truths hold throughout adult life as well as\nthroughout infantile life. If further proof be needed that the natural\nreaction is not only the most efficient penalty, but that no humanly\ndevised penalty can replace it, we have such further proof in the\nnotorious ill-success of our various penal systems. Out of the many\nmethods of criminal discipline that have been proposed and legally\nenforced, none have answered the expectations of their advocates.\nArtificial punishments have failed to produce reformation; and have in\nmany cases increased the criminality. The only successful reformatories\nare those privately established ones which approximate their _regime_ to\nthe method of nature--which do little more than administer the natural\nconsequences of criminal conduct: diminishing the criminal's liberty of\naction as much as is needful for the safety of society, and requiring\nhim to maintain himself while living under this restraint. Thus we see,\nboth that the discipline by which the young child is taught to regulate\nits movements is the discipline by which the great mass of adults are\nkept in order, and more or less improved; and that the discipline\nhumanly devised for the worst adults fails when it diverges from this\ndivinely-ordained discipline, and begins to succeed on approximating to\nit. Not only is it unwise to set up a high standard of good conduct for\nchildren, but it is even unwise to use very urgent incitements to good\nconduct. Already most people recognise the detrimental results of\nintellectual precocity; but there remains to be recognised the fact that\nmoral precocity also has detrimental results. Be sparing of commands,\nbut whenever you do command, command with decision and constancy.\nRemember that the aid of your discipline should be to produce a\nself-governing being; not to produce a being to be governed by others.\n\nLastly, always remember that to educate rightly is not a simple and easy\nthing, but a complex and extremely difficult thing; the hardest task\nwhich devolves on adult life. You will have to carry on your own moral\neducation at the same time that you are educating your children. The\nlast stage in the mental development of each man and woman is to be\nreached only through a proper discharge of the parental duties; and when\nthis truth is recognised it will be seen how admirable is the\narrangement through which human beings are led by their strongest\naffections to subject themselves to a discipline that they would else\nelude; and we shall see that while in its injurious effects on both\nparents and child a bad system is twice cursed, a good system is twice\nblessed--it blesses him that trains and him that is trained.\n\n\n_IV.--Physical Education_\n\nThe system of restriction in regard to food which many parents think so\nnecessary is based upon inadequate observation, and erroneous reasoning.\nThere is an over-legislation in the nursery as well as over-legislation\nin the state; and one of the most injurious forms of it is this\nlimitation in the quantity of food. We contend that, as appetite is a\ngood guide to all the lower creation--as it is a good guide to the\ninfant--as it is a good guide to the invalid--as it is a good guide to\nthe differently-placed races of man--and as it is a good guide for every\nadult who leads a healthful life, it may safely be inferred that it is a\ngood guide to childhood. It would be strange indeed were it here alone\nuntrustworthy.\n\nWith clothing, as with food, the usual tendency is towards an improper\nscantiness. Here, too, asceticism creeps out. Yet it is not obedience to\nthe sensations, but disobedience to them which is the habitual cause of\nbodily evils. It is not the eating when hungry, but the eating in the\nabsence of hunger, which is bad; it is not drinking when thirsty, but\ncontinuing to drink when thirst has ceased, that is the vice.\n\nAgain, harm does not result from taking that active exercise which, as\nevery child shows us, nature strongly prompts, but from a persistent\ndisregard of nature's promptings; but the natural spontaneous exercise\nhaving been forbidden, and the bad consequences of no exercise having\nbecome conspicuous, there has been adopted a system of factitious\nexercise--gymnastics. That this is better than nothing we admit; but\nthat it is an adequate substitute for play we deny. The truth is that\nhappiness is the most powerful of tonics. By accelerating the\ncirculation of the blood, it facilitates the performance of every\nfunction; and so tends alike to increase health where it exists, and to\nrestore it when it has been lost. Hence the intrinsic superiority of\nplay to gymnastics. The extreme interest felt by children in their\ngames, and the riotous glee with which they carry on their rougher\nfrolics, are of as much importance as the accompanying exertion; and as\nnot supplying these mental stimuli gymnastics must be radically\ndefective, and can never serve in place of the exercises prompted by\nnature. For girls as well as boys the sportive activities to which the\ninstincts impel are essential to bodily welfare. Whoever forbids them,\nforbids the divinely-appointed means to physical development.\n\nWe suffer at present from a very potent detrimental influence, which is\nexcess of mental application, forgetting that nature is a strict\naccountant, and if you demand of her in one direction more than she is\nprepared to lay out, she balances the account by making a reduction\nelsewhere. We forget that it is not knowledge which is stored up as\nintellectual fat that is of value, but that which is turned into\nintellectual muscle. Worse still, our system is fatal to that vigour of\nphysique needful to make intellectual training available in the struggle\nof life. Yet a good digestion, a bounding pulse, and high spirits are\nelements of happiness which no external advantages can outbalance.\n\nPerhaps nothing will so much hasten the time when body and mind will\nboth be adequately cared for, as a diffusion of the belief that the\npreservation of health is a duty. Few seem conscious that there is such\na thing as physical morality. Men's habitual words and acts imply the\nidea that they are at liberty to treat their bodies as they please.\nDisorders entailed by disobedience to nature's dictates, they regard\nsimply as grievances; not as the effects of a conduct more or less\nflagitious. Though the evil consequences inflicted on their dependents,\nand on future generations, are often as great as those caused by time,\nyet they do not think themselves in any degree criminal. It is true\nthat, in the case of drunkenness, the viciousness of a bodily\ntransgression is recognised; but none appear to infer that, if this\nbodily transgression is vicious, so, too, is every bodily transgression.\nThe fact is, that all breaches of the laws of health are _physical\nsins._ When this is generally seen, then, and perhaps not till then,\nwill the physical training of the young receive the attention which it\ndeserves.\n\n\n\n\nPrinciples of Biology\n\n     In 1860 Spencer commenced a connected series of philosophical\n     works, designed to unfold in their natural order the principles of\n     biology, psychology, sociology and morality. \"Principles of\n     Biology\" was published in 1864, and aims to set forth, the general\n     truths of biology as illustrative of, and as interpreted by the\n     laws of evolution. It was revised in 1899.\n\n\n_Proximate Definition of Life_\n\nTo those who accept the general doctrine of evolution, it needs scarcely\nto be pointed out that classifications are subjective conceptions which\nhave no absolute demarcations in nature corresponding to them.\nConsequently in attempting to define anything complex we can scarcely\never avoid including more than was intended, or leaving out something\nthat should be taken in. Thus it happens that on seeking a definition of\nlife there is great difficulty in finding one that is neither more nor\nless than sufficient. As the best mode of determining the general\ncharacteristics of vitality, let us compare its two most unlike kinds\nand see in what they agree.\n\nChoosing _assimilation_, then, for our example of bodily life, and\n_reasoning_ for our example of the life known as intelligence, it is\nfirst to be observed that they are both processes of change. Without\nchange food cannot be taken into the blood nor transformed into tissue:\nneither can conclusions be obtained from premises. This conspicuous\nmanifestation of change forms the substratum of our idea of life in\ngeneral. Comparison shows this change to differ from non-vital changes\nin being made up of _successive_ changes. The food must undergo\nmastication, digestion, etc., while an argument necessitates a long\nchain of states of consciousness, each implying a change of the\npreceding state. Vital change is further made up of many _simultaneous_\nchanges. Assimilation and argument both include many actions going on\ntogether. Vital changes, both visceral and cerebral, also differ from\nother changes in their _heterogeneity_; neither the simultaneous nor the\nserial acts of digestion or of ratiocination are at all alike. They are\nagain distinguished by the combination subsisting among their\nconstituent changes. The acts that make up digestion are mutually\ndependent; as are those which compose a train of reasoning. Once more,\nthey differ in being characterised by definiteness. Assimilation,\nrespiration, and circulation, are definitely interdependent. These\ncharacterisations not only mark off the vital from the non-vital, but\nalso creatures of high vitality from those of low vitality. Hence our\nformula reads thus:--_Life is the definite combination of heterogeneous\nchanges, both simultaneous and successive._ Not _a_ definite\ncombination, allowing that there may be others, but _the_ definite\ncombination. This, however, omits its most distinctive peculiarity.\n\n\n_Correspondence Between Life and Its Circumstances_\n\nWe habitually distinguish between a live object and a dead one by\nobserving whether a change in the surrounding conditions is or is not\nfollowed by some perceptible and appropriate change in the object.\nAdding this all-important characteristic, our conception of life\nbecomes--the definite combination of heterogeneous changes, both\nsimultaneous and successive, _in correspondence with external\ncoexistences and sequences_. Some illustrations may serve to show the\nsignificance of this addition.\n\nEvery act of locomotion implies the expenditure of certain internal\nmechanical forces, adapted in amounts and directions to balance or\noutbalance certain external ones. The recognition of an object is\nimpossible without a harmony between the changes constituting perception\nand particular properties coexisting in the environment. Escape from\nenemies supposes motions within the organism related in kind and\nrapidity to motions without it. Destruction of prey requires a\nparticular combination of subjective actions, fitted in degree and\nsuccession to overcome a group of objective ones.\n\nThe difference of this correspondence in inanimate and animate bodies\nmay be expressed by symbols. Let A be a change in the environment; and B\nsome resulting change in an inorganic mass. Then A having produced B,\nthe action ceases. But take a sufficiently organised living body, and\nlet the change A impress on it some change C; then, while the\nenvironment A is occasioning _a_, in the living body, C will be\noccasioning _c_: of which _a_ and _c_ will show a certain concord in\ntime, place, or intensity. And while it is in the continuous production\nof such concords or correspondences that life consists, it is _by_ the\ncontinuous production of them that life is maintained.\n\nAs, in all cases, we may consider the external phenomena as simply in\nrelation, and the internal phenomena also as simply in relation, the\nbroadest and most complete definition of life will be:--_the continuous\nadjustment of internal relations to external relations_. It will be\nbest, however, commonly to employ its more concrete equivalent--to\nconsider the internal relations as \"definite combinations of\nsimultaneous and successive changes\"; the external relations as\n\"coexistences and sequences,\" and the connection between them as a\n\"correspondence.\"\n\n\n_The Degree of Life Varies as the Degree of Correspondence_\n\nIt is now to be remarked that the life is high in proportion as this\ncorrespondence between internal and external relations is\nwell-fulfilled.\n\nEach step upward must consist in adding to the previously adjusted\nrelations which the organism exhibits some further relation, parallel to\na further relation in the environment. And the greater correspondence\nthus established must, other things being equal, show itself both in\ngreater complexity of life and greater length of life--a truth which\nwill be duly realised on remembering the enormous mortality which\nprevails among lowly-organized creatures, and the gradual increase of\nlongevity and diminution of fertility which is met with in ascending to\ncreatures of higher and higher development. Those relations in the\nenvironment to which relations in the organism must correspond increase\nin number and intensity as the life assumes a higher form. Perfect\ncorrespondence would be perfect life.\n\n\n_Growth, or Increase of Bulk_\n\nPerhaps the widest and most familiar induction of biology is that\norganisms grow. Under appropriate conditions increase of size takes\nplace in inorganic aggregates as well as in organic aggregates. Crystals\ngrow. Growth is indeed a concomitant of evolution. The several\nconditions by which the phenomena of organic growth are governed,\nconspiring and conflicting in endless ways and degrees, qualify more or\nless differently each others' effects. Hence the following\ngeneralisations must be taken as true on the average, or other things\nequal:--\n\nFirst, that growth being an integration with the organism of such\nenvironing matters as are of like nature with the matters composing the\norganism, its growth is dependent on the available supply of such\nmatters. Second, that the available supply of assimilable matters being\nthe same, and other conditions not dissimilar, the degree of growth\nvaries according to the surplus of nutrition over expenditure. Third,\nthat in the same organism the surplus of nutrition over expenditure is a\nvariable quantity; and that growth is unlimited or has a definite limit\naccording as the surplus does or does not progressively decrease,--a\nproposition exemplified by the increasing growth of organisms that do\nnot expend force, and by the definitely limited growth of organisms that\nexpend much force. Fourth, that among organisms that are large expenders\nof force, the size ultimately attained is, other things equal,\ndetermined by the initial size. Fifth, that where the likeness of other\ncircumstances permits a comparison, the possible degree of growth\ndepends upon the degree of organisation: an inference testified to by\nthe larger forms among the various divisions and subdivisions of\norganisms.\n\n\n_Why Do Organisms Cease to Grow_\n\nWhy should not all organisms, when supplied with sufficient material,\ncontinue to grow as long as they live? We have found that organisms are\nmostly built up of compounds which are stores of force. These substances\nbeing at once the materials for organic growth and the sources of\norganic force, it follows, from the persistence of force, that growth is\nsubstantially equivalent to the absorbed nutriment minus the nutriment\nused up in action. This, however, does not account for the fact that in\nevery domestic animal the increments of growth bear continually\ndecreasing ratios to the mass, and finally come to an end. Nevertheless,\nit is demonstrable that the excess of absorbed over expended nutriment\nmust decrease as the size increases. Since in similar bodies the areas\nvary as the squares of the dimensions and the masses vary as the cubes,\nit follows that, however great the excess of assimilation over waste may\nbe during the early life of an active organism, there must be reached,\nif the organism lives long enough, a point at which the surplus\nassimilation is brought to nothing--a point at which expenditure\nbalances nutrition, a state of moving equilibrium. Obviously, this\nantagonism between assimilation and expenditure must be a leading cause\nof the contrast in size between allied organisms that are in many\nrespects similarly conditioned.\n\n\n_Development, or Increase of Structure_\n\nIn each of the organic sub-kingdoms the change from an incoherent,\nindefinite homogeneity to a coherent definite heterogeneity is\nillustrated in a quadruple way. The originally-like units or cells\nbecome unlike, in various ways, and in ways more numerously marked as\nthe development goes on. The several tissues which these several classes\nor cells form by aggregation, grow little by little distinct from each\nother; and little by little become structurally complex. In the shoot as\nin the limb, the external form, originally very simple and having much\nin common with countless simple forms, organic and inorganic, gradually\nacquires an increasing complexity, and an increasing unlikeness to other\nforms, and meanwhile, the remaining parts of the organism, having been\ndeveloped severally, assuming structures diverging from each other and\nfrom that of this particular shoot or limb, there has arisen a greater\nheterogeneity in the organism as a whole.\n\nThe most remarkable induction of von Baer comes next in order. It is\nthat in its earliest stage every organism has the greatest number of\ncharacters in common with all other organisms in their earliest stages;\nthat at each subsequent stage traits are acquired which successively\ndistinguish the developing embryo from groups of embryos that it\npreviously resembled--thus step by step diminishing the group of embryos\nwhich it still resembles; and that thus the class of similar forms is\nfinally narrowed to the species of which it is a member. For example,\nthe human germ, primarily similar to all others, first differentiates\nfrom vegetal germs, then from invertebrate germs, and subsequently\nassumes the mammalian, placental unguiculate, and lastly the human\ncharacters.\n\nThe development of an individual organism is at the same time a\ndifferentiation of its parts from each other and a differentiation of\nthe consolidated whole from the environment; and in the last as in the\nfirst respect there is a general analogy between the progression of an\nindividual organism and the progression of the lowest orders of\norganisms to the highest orders.\n\n\n_The Laws of Multiplication_\n\nEvery living aggregate being one of which the inner actions are adjusted\nto balance outer actions, it follows that the maintenance of its moving\nequilibrium depends on its exposure to the right amounts of these\nactions. Its moving equilibrium may be overturned if one of these\nactions is either too great or too small in amount: either by excess or\ndefect of some inorganic or organic agency in its environment.\n\nOur inquiry resolves itself into this:--in races that continue to exist\nwhat laws of numerical variation result from these variable conflicting\nforces?\n\nThe forces preservative of a race are two--ability in each member of the\nrace to preserve itself, and ability to produce other members. These\nmust vary inversely--one must decrease as the other increases. We have\nto ask in what way this adjustment comes about as a result of evolution.\n\nIncluding under individuation all those processes completing and\nmaintaining individual life, and under genesis all those aiding the\nformation and perfecting of new individuals, the two are necessarily\nantagonistic. Every higher degree of individual evolution is followed by\na lower degree of race multiplication, and _vice versa_. Progress in\nbulk, complexity or activity involves retrogress in fertility; and\nprogress in fertility involves retrogress in bulk, complexity, or\nactivity. The same quantity of matter may be divided into many small\nwholes or few large wholes; but number negatives largeness, and\nlargeness negatives number.\n\nIt is a general physiological truth that while the building-up of the\nindividual is going on rapidly, the reproductive organs remain\nimperfectly developed and inactive; and that the commencement of\nreproduction at once indicates a declining rate of growth and becomes a\ncause of arrest in growth.\n\nIt has now to be noticed how complexity of organisation is hindered by\nreproductive activity and conversely. The hydra's power to produce young\nones from nearly all parts of its body is due to the comparative\nhomogeneity of its body, while it is not improbable that the smallness\nof human fertility, compared with the fertility of large feline animals,\nis due to the greater complexity of the human organisation--more\nespecially the organisation of the nervous system.\n\nOf the inverse variation between activity and genesis we have examples\nin the contrast between the fertility of birds and the fertility of\nmammals. Comparing the large with the large and the small with the\nsmall, we see that creatures which continually go through the muscular\nexertion of sustaining themselves in the air and propelling themselves\nrapidly through it are less prolific than creatures of equal weights\nwhich go through the smaller exertion of moving about over solid\nsurfaces. The extreme infertility of the bat is most striking when\ncompared with the structurally similar but very prolific mouse; a\ndifference in the rate of multiplication which may fairly be ascribed to\nthe difference in the rate of expenditure.\n\n\n_Interpretation and Qualification_\n\nDerived as the self-sustaining and waste-sustaining forces are from a\ncommon stock of force, it necessarily happens that, other things being\nequal, increase of the one involves decrease of the other. It may\ntherefore be set down as a law that every higher degree of organic\nevolution has for its concomitant a lower degree of the peculiar organic\ndissolution which is seen in the production of new organisms.\n\nHow is the ratio between individuation and genesis established in each\ncase? All specialties of the reproductive process are due to the natural\nselection of favourable variations. Given a certain surplus available\nfor race preservation, and it is clear that by indirect equilibration\nonly can there be established that peculiar distribution of this surplus\nwhich is seen in each case.\n\nHere a qualification must be made. Recognising the truth that every\nincrease of evolution which is appropriate to the circumstances of an\norganism brings an advantage somewhat in excess of its cost, the general\nlaw, more strictly stated, is that genesis decreases not quite so fast\nas individuation increases. The result of greater individuation--whether\nit takes the form of greater strength or higher speed, facilitates some\nhabitual movement or utilises better the absorbed aliment--is a greater\nsurplus of vital capital; part of which goes to the aggrandisement of\nthe individual and part to the formation of new individuals. Hence every\ntype that is best adapted to its conditions has a rate of multiplication\nthat insures a tendency to predominate. Survival of the fittest, acting\nalone, is ever replacing inferior species by superior species. But\nbeyond the longer survival, and therefore greater chance of leaving\noffspring, which superiority gives, we see here another way in which the\nspread of the superior is insured. Though the more evolved organism is\nthe less fertile absolutely, it is the more fertile relatively.\n\n\n_Multiplication of the Human Race_\n\nWhat causes increase or decrease of genesis in other creatures causes\nincrease or decrease of genesis in man. It is true that, even more than\nhitherto, our reasonings are here beset with difficulties. So numerous\nare the inequalities in the conditions that but few unobjectionable\ncomparisons can be made. The human races differ not only in their sizes\nand foods, and in the climates they inhabit, but also their expenditures\nin bodily and mental action are extremely unequal.\n\nThe increase of fertility caused by nutrition that is greatly in excess\nof expenditure is to be detected by comparing populations of the same\nrace or of allied races one of which obtains good and abundant\nsustenance much more easily than the other. On carrying out such\ncomparisons it is seen that in the human race, as in all other races,\nsuch absolute or relative abundance of nutriment as leaves a large\nexcess after defraying the cost of carrying on parental life, is\naccompanied by a high rate of genesis.\n\nIt is also apparent that relative increase of expenditure, leaving a\ndiminished surplus, reduces fertility. That infertility is generally\nproduced in women by mental labour carried to excess is shown in the\nfact that most of the flat-chested girls who survive their high-pressure\neducation are incompetent to bear a well-developed infant and to supply\nit with the natural food for the natural period. It is a matter of\ncommon remark how frequently men of unusual mental activity leave no\noffspring.\n\nIt is likely to be urged that since the civilised races are on the\naverage larger than many of the uncivilised races, and since they are\nalso somewhat more complex as well as more active, they ought, in\naccordance with the alleged general law, and other things being equal,\nto be less prolific. But other things are not equal; and it is to the\ninequality of the other things that this apparent anomaly is\nattributable.\n\nOne more objection has to be met. Cases may be named of men conspicuous\nfor activity, bodily and mental, who were also noted, not for less\ngenerative power than usual, but for more. The cases are analogous to\nsome before-named in which more abundant food simultaneously aggrandises\nthe individual and adds to the production of new individuals--the\ndifferences between cases being that instead of a better external supply\nof material there is a better internal utilisation of materials. Some\npeculiarity of organic balance, some potency of the digestive juices,\ngives to the system a perpetual high tide of rich blood that serves at\nonce to enhance the vital activities and to raise the power of\npropagation. The _proportion_ between individuation and genesis remains\nthe same: both are increased by the increase of the common stock of\nmaterials.\n\n\n_Human Population in the Future_\n\nAny further evolution in the most highly-evolved of terrestrial\nbeings--man--must be of the same nature as evolution in general. It must\nbe an advance towards completion of that continuous adjustment of\ninternal to external relations which was shown to constitute life.\n\nLooking at the several possibilities, and asking what direction this\nfurther evolution, this more complete moving equilibrium, this better\nadjustment of inner to outer relations, this more perfect co-ordination\nof action is likely to take:--the conclusion is that it must take mainly\nthe direction of a higher intellectual and emotional development. There\nis abundant scope for development in ascertaining the conditions of\nexistence to which we must conform; and in acquiring a greater power of\nself-regulation.\n\nWhat are those changes in the environment to which, by direct or\nindirect equilibration the human organism has been adjusting itself, is\nadjusting itself now, and will continue to adjust itself? And how do\nthey necessitate a higher evolution of the organism? In all cases\npressure of population is the original cause. Were it not for the\ncompetition this entails, so much thought and energy would not be spent\non the business of life; and growth of mental power would not take\nplace. Difficulty in getting a living is alike the incentive to a higher\neducation of children, and to a more intense and long-continued\napplication in adults. Nothing but necessity could make men submit to\nthis discipline; and nothing but this discipline could produce a\ncontinued progression.\n\nExcess of fertility is then the cause of man's further evolution. And\nthe obvious corollary is that man's further evolution itself\nnecessitates a decline in his fertility. The further progress of\ncivilisation will be accompanied by an enhanced cost of individuation:\nwhether it be in greater growth of the organs which subserve\nself-maintenance, in their added complexity of structure, or in their\nhigher activity, the abstraction of the required material, implies a\ndiminished reserve of materials for race maintenance. This greater\nemotional and intellectual development does not necessarily mean a\nmentally laborious life--for, as the goal becomes organic, it will\nbecome spontaneous and pleasurable.\n\nThe necessary antagonism of individuation and genesis not only fulfils\nthe _a priori_ law of maintenance of the race from the monad up to man,\nbut insures final attainment of the highest form of this maintenance--a\nform in which the amount of life shall be the greatest possible and the\nbirths and deaths as few as possible. From the beginning pressure of\npopulation has been the proximate cause of progress. After having duly\nstocked the globe with inhabitants; raised all its habitable parts into\nthe highest state of culture; brought all processes for the satisfaction\nof human wants to perfection; developed the intellect into complete\ncompetency for its work, and the feelings into complete fitness for\nsocial life; the pressure of population as it gradually finished its\nwork, must gradually bring itself to an end.\n\nChanges, numerical, social, organic, must by their mutual influences\nwork unceasingly towards a state of harmony--a state in which each of\nthe factors is just equal to its work. And this highest conceivable\nresult must be wrought out by the same universal process which the\nsimplest inorganic action illustrates.\n\n\n\n\nPrinciples of Sociology\n\n     \"Principles of Sociology\" was published in four parts from 1876 to\n     1880. It forms part of a connected series. In \"First Principles\"\n     inorganic evolution--that of the stars and of the solar system--was\n     outlined; organic evolution was dealt with in \"Principles of\n     Biology;\" and in the present treatise, \"Principles of Sociology,\"\n     we approach super-organic evolution, and are introduced to the\n     science of society under its Comtist title \"Sociology.\"\n\n\nSuper-organic evolution may be marked off from, organic by taking it to\ninclude all those processes and products which imply the co-ordinated\naction of many individuals. Commencing with the development of the\nfamily, sociology has next to describe and explain the rise and\ndevelopment of political organisation; the evolution of the\necclesiastical structures and functions; the control embodied in\nceremonial observances; and the relations between the regulative and\noperative divisions of every society.\n\n\n_I.--Domestic_\n\nThat evolution decreases the sacrifice of individual life to the life of\nthe species, we may see on glancing upwards from the microscopic\nprotozoa, where the brief parental life disappears absolutely in the\nlives of the progeny, to the mammalia, where the greatest conciliation\nof the interests of the species, the parents and the young, is\ndisplayed. The highest constitution of the family is reached where there\nis such conciliation between the needs of the society and those of its\nmembers, old and young, that the mortality between birth and the\nreproductive age falls to a minimum, while the lives of adults have\ntheir subordination to the rearing of children reduced to the smallest\npossible. The diminution of this subordination takes place in three\nways: First, by elongation of that period which precedes reproduction;\nsecond, by fewer offspring born, as well as by increase of the pleasure\ntaken in the care of them; and third, by lengthening of the life which\nfollows cessation of reproduction. Let us bear in mind that the domestic\nrelations which are ethically the highest, are also biologically and\nsociologically the highest.\n\n\nMARRIAGE\n\nThe propriety of setting out with the foregoing purely natural-history\nview will be evident upon learning that among low savages the relations\nof the sexes are substantially like those common among inferior\ncreatures. The effect of promiscuity, however, being to hinder social\nevolution, wherever it was accompanied by unions having some duration,\nthe product of such unions were likely to be superior to others, and\nfrom this primitive stage domestic evolution takes place in several\ndirections by increase of coherence and definiteness.\n\nFrom promiscuity we pass to that form of polyandry in which the\nunrelated husbands have but one wife; thence to the form in which the\nhusbands are related; and finally to the form in which they are brothers\nonly, as in the fraternal polyandry of the ancient Britons. It is almost\nneedless to point out that, as in passing from promiscuity to polyandry\nthe domestic relations become more coherent and definite, so do they in\npassing from the lower forms of polyandry to the higher. That polygyny\nis better than polyandry may be concluded from its effects. It conduces\nin a higher degree to social self-preservation than the inferioi types\nof marital relations by making possible more rapid replacement of men\nlost in war, and so increases the chance of social survival. By\nestablishment of descent in the male line it conduces to political\nstability; and, by making possible a developed form of ancestor-worship,\nit consolidates society.\n\n\nMONOGAMY\n\nSocieties which from generation to generation produce in due abundance\nindividuals who relatively to the requirements are the best physically,\nmorally, and intellectually, must become the predominant societies, and\nmust tend through the quiet process of industrial competition to replace\nother societies. Consequently, marital relations which favour this\nresult in the highest degree must spread; while the prevailing\nsentiments and ideas must become so moulded into harmony with them that\nother relations will be condemned as immoral. The monogamic form of the\nsexual relations is manifestly the ultimate form; and any changes to be\nanticipated must be in the direction of completion and extension of it.\n\n\n_II.--Political Organisation_\n\nA society is formed only when, besides juxtaposition there is\nco-operation. Co-operation is made possible by society and makes society\npossible. It pre-supposes associative men; and men remain associated\nonly because of the benefits co-operation yields them. But there cannot\nbe concerted actions without agencies by which actions are adjusted in\ntheir times, amounts, and kinds; and the actions cannot be of different\nkinds without the co-operators undertaking different duties. That is to\nsay, the co-operators must become organised, either voluntarily or\ninvoluntarily.\n\n\nAGGREGATION\n\nThe political evolution manifested by increase of mass is political\naggregation. One of the laws of evolution at large is that integration\nresults when like units are subject to the same force or the like\nforces; and from the first stages of political integration to the last\nthis law is illustrated. Likeness in the units forming a social group\nbeing one conditioned to their integration, a further condition is their\njoint reaction against external action: co-operation in war is the chief\ncause of social integration. The temporary unions of savages for offence\nand defence show the initiatory steps. When many tribes unite against a\ncommon enemy, long continuance of their combined action makes them\ncoherent under some common control. And so it is subsequently with still\nlarger aggregates.\n\n\nDIFFERENTIATION\n\nThe state of homogeneity in the social aggregate is an unstable one. The\nprimary political differentiation originates from the primary family\ndifferentiation. Men and women very early respectively form the two\npolitical classes of rulers and ruled. The slave class acquires\nseparateness only as fast as there arrives some restrictions on the\npowers of the owners; slaves begin to form a division of the body\npolitic when their personal claims begin to be distinguished as limiting\nthe claims of their masters. Where men have passed into the agricultural\nor settled state it becomes possible for one community to take\npossession bodily of another community, along with the territory it\noccupies. When this happens, there arise additional class divisions. The\nclass differentiation of which militancy is the actual cause is\nfurthered by the establishment of definite descent, especially male\ndescent, and by the transmission of position and property to the eldest\nson of the eldest continually. Inequalities of position and wealth once\ninitiated tend to increase and to establish physical differences; and\nbeyond these there are produced by the respective habits of life mental\ndifferences, emotional and intellectual, strengthening the general\ncontrast of nature. When there come conquests which produce compound\nsocieties and doubly compound ones there result superpositions of ranks:\nwhile the ranks of the conquering society become respectively higher\nthan those which have existed before, the ranks of the conquered society\nbecome respectively lower. The political differentiations which\nmilitancy originates and which for a long time increase in definiteness,\nare at later stages and under other conditions interfered with,\ntraversed, and partially or wholly destroyed. While the higher political\nevolution of large social aggregates tends to break down the divisions\nof rank which grew up in the small component social aggregates, by\nsubstituting other divisions, these original divisions are still more\nbroken down by growing industrialism. Generating a wealth that is not\nconnected with rank, this initiates a compelling power; and at the same\ntime, by establishing the equal positions of citizens before the law in\nrespect of trading transactions, it weakens those divisions which at the\noutset expressed inequality of position before the law.\n\n\nPOLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES\n\nIn its primitive form political power is the feeling of the community\nacting through an agency which it has either informally or formally\nestablished; and this public feeling, while it is to some extent the\nfeeling spontaneously formed by those concerned, it is to a much larger\nextent the accumulated and organised sentiment of the past. Everywhere\nwe are shown that the ruler's function as regulator is mainly that of\nenforcing the inherited rules of conduct which embody ancestral\nsentiments and ideas.\n\n\nCHIEFS AND KINGS\n\nAt the outset the principle of efficiency was the sole principle of\norganisation, but evidently supremacy which depends exclusively on\npersonal attributes is but transitory. Only when the chief's place is\nforthwith filled by one whose claim is admitted does there begin a\ndifferentiation which survives through successive generations. The\ncustom of reckoning descent through females, it may be noted, is less\nfavourable to the establishment of permanent political headship than is\nthe system of kinship through males, which conduces to a more coherent\nfamily, to a greater culture of subordination and to a more probable\nunion of inherited position and inherited capacity. In sundry\nsemi-civilised societies distinguished by permanent political headships,\ninheritance through males has been established in the ruling house while\ninheritance through females survives in the society at large. Descent\nthrough males also fosters ancestor-worship, and the consequent\nreinforcing of natural authority by supernatural authority--a very\npowerful factor. Development of the ghost theory, leading as it does to\nspecial fear of the ghosts of powerful men, until, where many tribes\nhave been welded together by a conqueror, his ghost acquires in\ntradition the pre-eminence of a god, produces two effects. In the first\nplace his descendant is supposed to partake of his divine nature; and in\nthe second place, by propitiatory sacrifices to him is supposed to\nobtain his aid.\n\nFrom the evolution-standpoint we are enabled to discern the relative\nbeneficence of institutions which, considered absolutely, are not\nbeneficent; and we are taught to approve as temporary that which as\npermanent we abhor. The evidence shows that subjection to despots has\nbeen largely instrumental in advancing civilised life.\n\n\nCOMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS\n\nAn examination of fact shows that where groups of the patriarchal type\nfall into regions permitting considerable growths of population, but\nhaving physical structures which impede the centralisation of power,\ncompound political heads will arise and for a time sustain themselves\nthrough co-operation of the two factors, independence of local groups,\nand need for union in war. Thus, as Mommsen says, primitive Rome was\nrather an aggregate of urban settlements than a single city. Not only do\nconditions determine the various forms which compound heads assume, but\nconditions determine the various changes they undergo. They may be\nnarrowed by militancy, or they may be widened by industrialism.\n\n\nCONSULTATIVE BODIES\n\nThe council of war is the germ out of which the consultative body\narises. Within the warrior class, which was of necessity the land-owning\nclass, war produces increasing differences of wealth, as well as\nincreasing differences of status; so that military leaders come to be\ndistinguished as large landowners and local rulers. Hence members of a\nconsultative body become contrasted with the freemen at large--not only\nas leading warriors are contrasted with their followers, but still more\nas men of wealth and authority. If the king attains or acquires the\nreputation of supernatural descent or authority, and the law of\nhereditary succession is so settled as to exclude election, those who\nmight otherwise have formed a consultative body having co-ordinate power\nbecome simply appointed advisers. But if the king has not the prestige\nof supposed sacred origin or commission the consultative body retains\npower; and if the king continues to be elected it is liable to become an\noligarchy.\n\n\nREPRESENTATIVE BODIES\n\nHow is the governmental influence of the people acquired? The primary\npurpose for which chief men and representatives are assembled is that of\nvoting money. The revenues of rulers are derived at first wholly and\nafterwards partly from presents. This primary obligation to render money\nand service to the head of the State, often reluctantly complied with,\nis resisted when the exactions are great, and resistance causes\nconciliatory measures. From ability to prescribe conditions under which\nmoney will be voted grows the ability, and finally the right, to join in\nlegislation.\n\n\nLAWS\n\nLaw is mainly an embodiment of ancestral injunctions. The living ruler\nable to legislate only in respect of matters unprovided for, is bound by\nthe transmitted command of the unknown and the known who have passed\naway. Hence the trait common to societies in early stages that the\nprescribed rules of conduct, of whatever kind, have a religious\nsanction.\n\nIn societies that become large and complex, there arise forms of\nactivity and intercourse not provided for in the sacred code; and in\nrespect of these the ruler is free to make regulations. Thus there comes\ninto existence a body of laws of known human origin, which has not the\nsacredness of the god-descended body of laws: human law differentiates\nfrom divine law. And in proportion as the principle of voluntary\nco-operation more and more characterises the social type, fulfilment of\ncontracts and implied assertion of equality in men's rights become the\nfundamental requirements, and the consensus of individual interests the\nchief source of law; such authority as law otherwise derived continues\nto have being recognised as secondary, and insisted upon only because\nmaintenance of law for its own sake indirectly furthers the general\nwelfare.\n\nThe theories at present current adapted to the existing compromise\nbetween militancy and industrialism are steps towards the ultimate\ntheory in conformity with which law will have no other justification\nthan that gained by it as maintainer of the conditions to complete life\nin the associated state.\n\n\nPROPERTY\n\nThe desire to appropriate lies deep in animal nature, being, indeed, a\ncondition to survival. The consciousness that conflict and consequent\ninjury may probably result from the endeavour to take that which is held\nby another tends to establish the custom of leaving each in possession\nof whatever he has obtained by labour. With the passage from a nomadic\nto a settled state, ownership of land by the community becomes qualified\nby individual ownership; but only to the extent that those who clear and\ncultivate portions of the surface have undisturbed enjoyment of its\nproduce. Habitually the public claim survives, qualified by various\nforms of private ownership mostly temporary; but war undermines communal\nproprietorship of land, and partly or wholly substitutes for it either\nthe unqualified proprietorship of an absolute conqueror, or\nproprietorship by a conqueror, qualified by the claims of vassals\nholding it under certain conditions, while their claims are in turn\nqualified by those of dependents attached to the soil. The\nindividualisation of ownership extended and made more definite by\ntrading transactions under contract, eventually affects the ownership of\nland. Bought and sold by measure and for money, land is assimilated in\nthis respect to the personal property produced by labour, but there is\nreason to suspect that while possession of such things will grow more\nsacred, the inhabited area which cannot be produced by labour will\neventually be distinguished as something which may not be privately\npossessed.\n\n\nTHE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY\n\nThe traits of the industrial type of society are so hidden by those of\nthe still dominant militant type that its nature is nowhere more than\nvery partially exemplified. The industrial type is distinguished from\nthe militant type as being not both positively regulated and negatively\nregulated, but as being negatively regulated only. To the member of the\nindustrial community authority says \"Thou shalt not,\" and not \"Thou\nshalt.\" On turning to the civilised to observe the form of individual\ncharacter which accompanies the industrial form of society, we encounter\nthe difficulty that the personal traits proper to industrialism are,\nlike the social traits, mingled with those proper to militancy.\nNevertheless, on contrasting the characters of our ancestors during more\nwarlike periods with our own characters, we see that, with an increasing\nratio of industrialism to militancy, have come a growing independence, a\nless marked loyalty, a smaller faith in governments, and a more\nqualified patriotism; and while there has been shown a strengthening\nassertion of individuality there has accompanied it a growing respect\nfor the individualities of others, as is implied by the diminution of\naggressions upon them, and the multiplication of efforts for their\nwelfare. It seems needful to explain that it is not so much that a\nsocial life passed in peaceful occupations is positively moralising, as\nthat a social life passed in war is positively demoralising. The\nsacrifice of others to self is in the one incidental only; while in the\nother it is necessary.\n\n\nPOLITICAL PROSPECT\n\nIt appears to be an unavoidable inference that the ultimate executive\nagency must become in some way or other elective. From such evidence as\nexisting society will afford us, it is to be inferred that the highest\nState-office in whatever way filled will continue to decline in\nimportance. No speculations concerning ultimate political forms can,\nhowever, be regarded as anything but tentative. There will probably be\nconsiderable variety in the special forms of the political institutions\nof industrial society; all of them bearing traces of past institutions\nwhich have been brought into congruity with the representative\nprinciple.\n\nTo turn to political functions, when corporate action is no longer\nneeded for preserving a society as a whole from destruction or injury by\nother societies, the end which remains for it is that of preserving the\ncomponent members of society from injury by one another. With this\nlimitation of the state function it is probable that there will be\nsimultaneously carried further that trait which already characterises\nthe most industrially-organised society--the performance of\nincreasingly-numerous and increasingly-important functions by other\norganisations than those which form departments of the government.\nAlready private enterprise, working through incorporated bodies of\ncitizens, achieves ends undreamed of as so achievable in primitive\nsocieties; and in the future other ends undreamed of now as so\nachievable will be achieved.\n\nThe conclusion of profoundest moment to which lines of argument converge\nis that the possibility of a high social state political as well as\ngeneral, fundamentally depends on the cessation of war. Persistent\nmilitancy, maintaining adapted institutions, must inevitably prevent, or\nelse neutralise, changes in the direction of more equitable institutions\nand laws; while permanent peace will of necessity be followed by social\nameliorations of every kind.\n\n\n_III.--Ecclesiastical Institutions_\n\nRightly to trace the evolution of ecclesiastical institutions, we must\nknow whence came the ideas and sentiments implied by them. Are these\ninnate or are they derived? They are derived. And here it may be\nremarked that where among African savages there existed no belief in a\ndouble which goes away during sleep, there was found to exist no belief\nin a double which survived after death.\n\nFrom the ordinary absence of the other self in sleep, and its\nextraordinary absences in swoons, apoplexy, and so forth, the transition\nis to its unlimited absence at death; when after an interval of waiting\nthe expectation of immediate return is given up. Commonly the spirit is\nsupposed to linger near the body or to revisit it. Hence the\nuniversality of ministrations to the double of the deceased habitually\nmade at funerals. The habitat of the other self is variously conceived;\nthough everywhere there is an approach to parallelism between the life\nhere and the imagined life hereafter. Along with the development of\ngrave-heaps into altars, grave-sheds into religious edifices, and food\nfor the ghost into sacrifices, there goes on the development of praise\nand prayer. Turning to certain more indirect results of the ghost\ntheory, we find that, distinguishing but confusedly between semblance\nand reality, the savage thinks that the representation of a thing\npartakes of the properties of a thing. Hence the effigy of a dead man\nbecomes a habitation for his ghost; and idols, because of the indwelling\ndoubles of the dead, are propitiated. Identification of the doubles of\nthe dead with animals--now with those which frequent houses or places\nwhich the doubles are supposed to haunt and now with those which are\nlike certain of the dead in their malicious or benevolent natures--is in\nother cases traceable to misinterpretation of names; this latter leading\nto the identification of stars with persons and hence to star and sun\nworship. In their normal forms, as in their abnormal forms, all gods\narise by apotheosis. Originally the god is the superior living man whose\npower is conceived as superhuman. As in primitive thought divinity is\nsynonymous with superiority, and as at first a god may be either a\npowerful living person or a dead person who has acquired supernatural\npower as a ghost, there come two origins for semi-divine beings--the one\nby unions between a conquering god race and the conquered race\ndistinguished as men, and the other by supposed intercourse between\nliving persons and spirits. Where the evidence is examined comparative\nsociology discloses a common origin for each leading element of\nreligious belief.\n\n\nMEDICINE MEN AND PRIESTS\n\nIn the primitive belief that the doubles of the dead may be induced to\nyield benefits or desist from inflicting evil by bribing or cajoling or\nelse by threatening or coercing, we see that the modes of dealing with\nghosts broadly contrasted as antagonistic and sympathetic, initiate the\ndistinction between medicine man and priest.\n\nPrompted as offerings on graves originally are by affection for the\ndeceased, it naturally happens that such propitiations are made more by\nrelatives than others. The family cult next acquires a more definite\nform by the devolution of its functions on one member of the family.\nHence in ancient Egypt \"it was most important that a man should have a\nson established in his seat after him who should perform the due rites\"\nof sacrifice to his _ka_ or double. Facts also show that the devolution\nof the sacrificial office accompanies devolution of property, for this\nhas to bear the costs of the sacrifices; and by a natural corollary the\nhead of the village-community combines the characters of priest and\nruler. With the increase of a chief's territory there comes an\naccumulation of business which necessitates the employment of\nassistants, and among the functions deputed is that of priest, at first\nperhaps temporarily assumed by a brother. Such is the usual origin of\npriesthood.\n\nMany facts make it clear that, not only the genesis of polytheism but\nthe long survival of it are sequences of primitive ancestor-worship.\nEventually there result under favouring conditions a gravitation towards\nmonotheism; and with this an advance towards unification of priesthood.\nThe official proprietors of the deity who has come to be regarded as the\nmost powerful or as the possessor of all power becomes established\neverywhere.\n\nLikeness between ecclesiastical and political organisations when they\nhave diverged is largely due to their community of origin. There results\na hierarchy of sacerdotal functionaries analogous to the graduated\nsystem of political functionaries; then the agencies for carrying on\ncelestial rule and terrestrial rule eventually begin to compete for\nsupremacy; and there are reasons for thinking that the change from an\noriginal predominance of a spiritual power over the temporal power to\nultimate subjugation of it is mainly due to the development of\nindustrialism with the moral and intellectual changes involved.\n\n\nPROSPECT\n\nWhat may we infer will be the evolution of religious ideas and\nsentiments throughout the future? The development of those higher\nsentiments which no longer tolerate the ascription of inferior\nsentiments to a divinity, and the intellectual development which causes\ndissatisfaction with the crude interpretations previously accepted, must\nforce men hereafter to drop the higher anthropomorphic characters given\nto the First Cause as they have long since dropped the lower.\n\nThose, however, who think that science is dissipating religious beliefs\nand sentiments seem unaware that whatever of mystery is taken from the\nold interpretation is added to the new. Or rather we may say that\ntransference from one to the other is accompanied by increase; since for\nan explanation which has a seeming feasibility, science substitutes an\nexplanation which, carrying us back only a certain distance, then leaves\nus in the presence of the avowedly inexplicable. The truth must grow\never clearer--the truth that there is an inscrutable existence\neverywhere manifested to which the man of science can neither find nor\nconceive either beginning or end. Amid the mysteries which become the\nmore mysterious the more they are thought about, there will remain the\none absolute certainty, that he is ever in the presence of _AN INFINITE\nAND ETERNAL ENERGY_, from which all things proceed.\n\n\n\n\nBENEDICT DE SPINOZA\n\nEthics\n\n     Baruch (_Lat._ Benedict) Spinoza, or de Spinoza, as he afterwards\n     signed himself, son of a wealthy Portuguese Jew, was born at\n     Amsterdam, November 24, 1632, and died at the early age of\n     forty-four, on February 21, 1677. He was educated to the highest\n     pitch of attainment in Hebrew and Talmudist learning, and through\n     delicacy of physical constitution devoted himself entirely to\n     study, cultivating assiduously philosophy as well as theology,\n     while not neglecting the physical sciences. Imbibing unorthodox\n     views he was formally excommunicated from the synagogue, and\n     philosophy henceforth became the sole pursuit of his mind. He was\n     able, however, through his great scientific accomplishments and\n     mechanical skill, to gain a sufficiency for his subsistence by\n     polishing lenses. This accomplished man was also no mean artist,\n     especially in designing. He was one of the finest Latinists of his\n     time. He was filled with the spirit of religion, and lived the\n     simplest life, on a few pence a day, in a period of voluptuous\n     epicureanism. The philosophical system of Spinoza was evolved from\n     that of Descartes, who had sought to inaugurate a new era in\n     thought. But he sought more clearly to demonstrate the existence of\n     God than did his great French master. No philosopher has been more\n     maligned on the one hand, or more adulated on the other, than this\n     great Jewish genius. Spinoza has been by some nicknamed Pantheist\n     or Atheist; while Schleiermacher and other theologians have not\n     hesitated to describe him as \"pious, virtuous, God-intoxicated.\"\n\n\n_I.--Concerning God_\n\nBy God I understand absolutely infinite Being, that is, substance\nconsisting of infinite attributes, each expressing eternal and definite\nessence. If this be denied, conceive, if it be possible, that God does\nnot exist. Then it follows that His essence does not involve existence,\nwhich is absurd. Therefore God necessarily exists.\n\nGod is absolutely the first cause. He acts from the laws of His own\nnature only, and is compelled by no one. For outside of Himself there\ncan be nothing by which He may be determined to act. Therefore He acts\nsolely from the laws of His own nature. And therefore also God alone is\na free cause.\n\nThe omnipotence of God has been actual from eternity and will be actual\nfrom eternity. The Divine intellect is the cause of things, both of\ntheir essence and of their existence. Thus it is the cause both of the\nessence and of the existence of the human intellect, but it differs from\nour intellect both in essence and in existence. The same may be said of\nthe Divine will and the human will.\n\nThe will cannot be called a free cause, but can only be termed\nnecessary. The will is only a certain mode of thought, like the\nintellect. It requires a cause to determine it to action, and therefore\ncannot be called a free cause, but only a necessary cause. Hence it\nfollows that God does not act from freedom of the will. For the will,\nlike all other things, needs a cause to determine it to act in a certain\nmanner. Things could have been produced by God in no other manner or\norder than that in which they have been. Things have been created by God\nin absolute perfection, because they have necessarily followed from His\nabsolutely perfect nature.\n\n\n_The Divine Power and Decree_\n\nSince in eternity there is no _when_, nor _before_, nor _after_, God\ncannot decree nor could He have ever decreed anything other than He has\ndecreed in the perfection of His nature. For if He had decreed something\nelse about creation, He would necessarily have had an intellect and a\nwill different from those He now has. Could such a supposition be\nallowed, why cannot He now change His decree about creation yet remain\nperfect?\n\nAll things depend on the Divine power; but God's will, because of his\nperfection, cannot be other than it is, and therefore things cannot be\ndifferently constituted. For to suppose otherwise is to subject God to\nfate, an absurdity which is not worth waste of time to refute.\n\nThe sum of the matter is that God necessarily exists; that He is one\nGod; that He acts from the necessity of His nature; that He is the free\ncause of all things; that all things depend on Him; and that all things\nhave been predestined by Him.\n\n\n_II.--Concerning Mind_\n\nI pass on to those things which must necessarily follow from the essence\nof the eternal and infinite God.\n\nThought is the attribute of God. Individual thoughts are modes\nexpressing the nature of God in a certain and determinate manner. The\norder and connection of these ideas coincides with the order and\nconnection of things, therefore God's power of thinking is equal to His\npower of acting. The circle existing in nature and the idea of an\nexisting circle which is also in God, are one and the same thing,\nexhibited through different attributes. God is truly the cause of things\nas they are in themselves, in so far as He consists of infinite\nattributes.\n\nThe first thing which forms the actual Being of the human mind is\nnothing else than the idea of an individual actually existing. The\nessence of man is formed by certain modes of the Divine attributes, that\nis to say, modes of thought. The idea is the first thing which forms the\nBeing of the human mind. It must be an idea of an individual thing\nactually existing. Hence the human mind is part of the infinite\nintellect of God.\n\nThe knowledge of everything which happens necessarily exists in God, in\nso far as He forms the nature of the human mind. Man thinks. Modes of\nthought, such as love, desire, or affections of the mind under whatever\ndesignation, do not exist, unless in the same individual exists an idea\nof a thing loved, desired, etc. But the idea may exist though no other\nmode of thinking exists. Therefore the essence of man does not\nnecessarily involve existence.\n\nWe perceive that a body is affected in certain ways. No individual\nthings are felt or perceived by us except bodies and modes of thought.\n\nThe object of the idea constituting the human mind is a body, or a\ncertain mode of actually existing extension, and nothing else. For if\nthe body were not the object of the human mind, the ideas of the\naffections of the body would not be in God, in so far as He has created\nour mind, but would be in Him in so far as He has formed the mind of\nanother thing.\n\nBut we have ideas of the affections of the body; therefore the object of\nthe idea constituting the human mind is the body actually existing. It\nfollows that man consists of mind and body, and that the human body\nexists as we perceive it.\n\n\n_Mind and Body_\n\nHence we perceive not only that the human mind is united to the body,\nbut also what is to be understood by the union of mind and body. But no\none can adequately comprehend it without previously possessing adequate\nknowledge of the body. In proportion as one body is better adapted than\nanother to act or suffer, the mind will at the same time be better\nadapted for perception. And the more independent a body may be of other\nbodies, the stronger will be the understanding of the mind. Thus we can\ndetermine the superiority of one mind over another.\n\nAll bodies are either moving or resting. Every body moves sometimes\nslowly, sometimes quickly. Bodies are distinguished from each other by\ndegrees of motion and quiescence, not with regard to substance. All\nbodies agree in some aspects. Bodies affect each other in motion and\nrest. Each individual thing must necessarily be determined as to motion\nor rest by some other thing.\n\nThe human body needs for its preservation many other bodies by which it\nis, as it were, regenerated. The human mind increases its aptitude in\nproportion to the number of ways in which the body can be disposed. The\nidea constituting a formal being of the human mind is not simple, but is\nhighly complex. An idea of each component part of the body must\nnecessarily exist in God.\n\nThe human mind does not know the human body itself, nor does it know\nthat the human body exists, except through the ideas and affections by\nwhich the body is affected. Indeed, the human mind is the very idea or\nknowledge of the human body. These ideas are in God. Thought is an\nattribute of God, and so the thought of the mind originates of necessity\nin Him. All the ideas which are in God always agree with those things of\nwhich they are ideas, and therefore they are all true.\n\nFalsity consists in privation of knowledge, involved in confusion and\nmutilation of ideas. For instance, because they think themselves to be\nfree, and the sole reason for this opinion is that they are conscious of\ntheir own actions, and ignorant of the causes determining those actions.\nNobody knows what the will is and how it moves to-day. Those who pretend\notherwise and invent locations of the soul, usually excite derision and\ndisgust.\n\nWhen we look at the sun and imagine it to be immensely nearer to us than\nit really is, the error arises from the manner in which the essence of\nthe sun affects the body, not merely from the exercise of the\nimagination.\n\n\n_Mutual Influences_\n\nThe more things the body possesses in common with other bodies, the more\nthings will the mind be adapted to perceive. The human mind possesses\nan adequate knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God. But\nthe reason why men have not a knowledge of God as clear as that which\nthey have of common notions is that they cannot imagine God as they can\nimagine bodies, and because they have attached the name of God to the\nimages of things they are accustomed to see. This they can hardly avoid,\nbecause they are constantly affected by external bodies. And, indeed\nmost errors arise from our application to the wrong names of things.\n\nFor if some one says that the lines drawn from the centre to the\ncircumference of a circle are unequal, it is because he understands by a\ncircle something different from what we understand by the\nmathematicians. I did not reckon a man to be in error whom I recently\nheard complaining that his court has flown into one of his neighbour's\nfowls for I understand what he meant.\n\nIn the mind there is no absolutely free will. The mind is determined to\nthis or that volition by a cause, which is determined by another cause,\nand so on _ad infinitum_. The will and intellect are one and the same.\nWe are partakers of the divine nature in proportion as we more and more\nunderstand God and conform our actions to his will. Our highest\nhappiness consists in this conformity, by which alone the soul finds\nrepose. Those greatly err from the true estimate of virtue who expect to\nbe rewarded for it, as though virtue and the service of God were our\nfelicity itself and the highest liberty.\n\n\n_III.--Concerning Mental Affections_\n\nThe actions of the mind arise from adequate ideas alone; but the\npassions depend on those alone which are inadequate. The essence of the\nmind is composed of adequate and inadequate ideas. Joy is a passion by\nwhich the mind passes to a greater degree of perfection; sorrow is a\npassion by which it passes to a lesser degree.\n\nAccidentally anything may be the cause of joy, sorrow, or desire. We\nlove or hate certain things not from any known cause, but merely from\nsympathy or antipathy. If we hate a thing, we seek to affirm concerning\nit everything that we think can affect it with sorrow, while we deny\neverything that we think can affect it with joy. From this we see how\neasily a man may think too much of himself, and of the object which he\nloves, and on the other hand, may think too little of what he hates.\n\nWhen a man thinks too much of himself this imagination is termed pride,\nand is a species of delirium, because he dreams with his eyes open, that\nhe can do all those things to which he attains in imagination alone,\nregarding them thus as realities, and rejoicing in them so long as he\ncannot imagine anything to exclude their existence and limit his power\nof action.\n\nIf we imagine that a person loves, desires, or hates a thing which we\nlove, desire, or hate, we shall on that account love, desire, or hate\nthe thing more intensely. If, on the other hand, we imagine that he is\naverse to the thing we love, or loves the thing to which we are averse,\nthen we shall suffer vacillation of mind. Hence every one strives to the\nutmost to induce others to love what he loves and to hate what he hates.\nThis effort is called ambition, which prompts each person to desire that\nothers should live according to his way of thinking. But if all thus\nact, then all hinder each other. And if all wish to be praised or loved\nby all, then all hate one another.\n\nJoy is a man's passage from a less to a greater perfection; sorrow is a\nman's passage from a greater to a less perfection. I say passage, for\njoy is not perfection itself. If a man were born with the perfection to\nwhich he passes, he would possess it without the affection of joy--a\ntruth the more vividly apparent from the affection of sorrow which is\nthe contrary of joy.\n\nFor, that sorrow consists in the passage to a less perfection, but not\nin the less perfection itself, no one can deny, since in so far as a\nman partakes of any perfection, he cannot be sad.\n\nNor can we say that sorrow consists in the passage to a less perfection,\nfor privation is nothing. But the affection of sorrow is actual, and so\ncan be nothing else than the passage to a lesser perfection, that is,\nthe reality by which the power of acting is limited or diminished. As\nfor the definitions of cheerfulness, pleasurable excitement, melancholy,\nor grief, I omit these, because they are related rather to the body than\nto the mind, and are merely different species of joy and sorrow.\n\nLove is joy with the accompanying idea of an external cause. Hatred is\nsorrow with the accompanying idea of an external cause. Devotion is love\ntowards an object which we admire and wonder at. Derision is joy arising\nfrom the imagination that something we despise is present in the object\nwe hate. Hope is a joy not constant, arising from the idea of something\nfuture or past, about the issue of which we are doubtful. Fear is sorrow\nnot constant, arising in like manner.\n\nConfidence is joy arising from the idea of a past or future object from\nwhich the cause for doubting has been removed. Despair is sorrow arising\nfrom a like cause. Confidence springs from hope, despair from fear.\nPride is thinking too highly of ourselves from self-love. Despondency is\nthinking too little of ourselves through sorrow.\n\n\n_IV.--Concerning Human Bondage and Human Liberty_\n\nGood is that which is useful to us; evil, that which impedes the\npossession of good. But the terms good and evil are not positive, but\nare only modes of thought, by which we compare one thing with another.\nThus, music is good to a melancholy mind, bad to a mourning mind, but\nneither bad nor good to a deaf man. We suffer because we form a part of\nnature. The power by which we preserve our being is the power of God,\nthat is part of His essence. But man is subject to passions because he\nfollows the order of nature.\n\nAn affection can only be overcome by a stronger affection. That which\ntends to conserve our existence we denominate good. That which hinders\nthis conservation we style evil. Desire springing from the knowledge of\ngood and evil can be restrained by desires originating in the affections\nby which we are agitated. Thus the effect of external causes on the mind\nmay be far greater than that of the knowledge of good and evil. The\ndesire springing from a knowledge of good and evil may be easily\nrestrained by the desire of present objects. Opinion exercises a more\npotent influence than reason. Hence the saying of the poet, \"I approve\nthe better, but follow the worse.\" And hence also the preacher says \"He\nthat increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.\" We ought to know both the\nstrength and the weakness of our nature, that we may judge what reason\ncan and cannot do in controlling our affections.\n\nDesire springing from joy preponderates over that springing from sorrow.\nMan is useful to man because two individuals of the same nature when in\nsympathy are stronger than one. Nothing could be so good for men as that\nall should so agree in everything as to form as it were a single body\nand mind, all seeking the good of all. Hence, men acting in accord with\nthe dictates of reason desire nothing for themselves but what they\ndesire for all. This renders them just, faithful, and honourable.\n\nThe knowledge of God is the supreme mental good, and to know God is the\nsupreme mental virtue. For God is the supreme subject of the\nunderstanding, and therefore to know or understand God is the supreme\nvirtue of the mind. But to us nothing can be either good or evil unless\nit has something in common with us. An object whose nature is absolutely\nforeign to our own cannot be either good or evil to us, for this\nreason, that we only call a thing good or evil when it is the cause of\njoy or sorrow, this is to say, when it increases or diminishes our power\nto act.\n\nNothing can be reckoned good except that which is in harmony with our\nnature, and nothing can be reckoned evil expect what is contrary to our\nnature, but men cannot be said to agree in nature when they are subject\nto passion. We only act in harmony with the dictates of reason when we\nagree in nature with others. Men are most useful to each other who are\nmutually ruled by the laws of reason. But rarely do men live thus in\nharmony with reason, and thus it comes to pass that they are commonly\nenvious of each other.\n\nYet men are seldom disposed to solitude, but answer generally to the\nfamiliar description of man as a social animal, for they know that the\nadvantages preponderate over the advantages of social life. They find by\nexperience that by mutual aid and co-operation they can, on the one hand\nthe more easily secure what they need, and on the other hand the better\ndefend themselves from danger.\n\nA man who seeks after virtue will desire others to do so, and this\ndesire will increase in proportion to this increase of his knowledge of\nGod. The good that a man seeks by the quest of virtue he will wish\nothers to obtain also. This is in accordance with reason, which is the\noperation of the mind according to the essence of the mind, that essence\nof the mind being knowledge, which involves the knowledge of God. The\ngreater the knowledge of God involved in the essence of the mind, the\ngreater will be the desire that others may seek after the same virtue\nwhich the man seeks for himself.\n\n\n\n\n_Economics_\n\n\n\n\nEDWARD BELLAMY\n\nLooking Backward\n\n     Edward Bellamy, American social reformer, who sprang into fame in\n     the last decade of the nineteenth century by his book, \"Looking\n     Backward,\" was born in Massachusetts, on March 25, 1850. Trained\n     for the Bar, he became a journalist, and devoted his pen to the\n     propaganda of socialism. After the unprecedented success of his\n     socialist novel, in which he describes a suppositious twentieth\n     century revolution from the standpoint of a hypnotised sleeper\n     awakened in 2000 A.D., his modest home at Chicopee Falls became a\n     recognised centre of the socialist movement in the United States.\n     \"Looking Backward\" was published in 1888, and was followed by\n     \"Equality,\" in which he expounded his political doctrines in\n     dialogue form, the story being treated merely as a sequel to the\n     earlier book, and entirely subordinated to the more serious aim. We\n     have here preferred to classify \"Looking Backward\" as a work of\n     philosophy, and not as fiction. Bellamy's championship of the\n     rights of the disinherited, and his enlightened ideas, conveyed in\n     a by no means unimaginative style, gained him many friends and\n     sympathisers. Bellamy died on May 22, 1898.\n\n\n_I.--The Great Change_\n\nI first saw the light in the city of Boston, in the year 1857. \"What!\"\nyou say, \"eighteen-fifty-seven? That is an odd slip. He means\nnineteen-fifty-seven, of course.\" I beg pardon, but there is no mistake.\nIt was about four in the afternoon of December 26, one day after\nChristmas, in the year 1857, not 1957, that I, Julian West, first\nbreathed the east wind of Boston, which, I assure the reader, was at\nthat remote period marked by the same penetrating quality characterising\nit in the present year of grace, 2000.\n\nLiving in luxury, and occupied only with the pursuit of the pleasures\nand refinements of life, I derived the means of my support from the\nlabour of others, rendering no sort of service in return. Why, you ask,\nshould the world have supported in utter idleness one who was able to\nrender service? The answer is, that my great-grandfather had accumulated\na sum of money, on the yield of which his descendants had ever since\nlived. \"Interest on investments\" was a species of tax on industry which\na person possessing or inheriting money was then able to levy, in spite\nof all the efforts to put down usury.\n\nI cannot do better than compare society as it then was to a prodigious\ncoach to which the masses were harnessed and dragged toilsomely along a\nvery hilly and sandy road, with Hunger for driver. The passengers\ncomfortably seated on the top would call down encouragingly to the\ntoilers at the rope, exhorting them to patience; but always expected to\nbe drawn and not to pull, because, as they thought, they were not like\ntheir brothers who pulled at the rope, but of finer clay, in some way\nbelonging to a higher order of beings.\n\nIn 1887, I was engaged to wed Edith Bartlett. She, like myself, rode on\nthe top of the coach. Our marriage only awaited the completion of a\nhouse, which, however, was delayed by a series of strikes. I remember\nMr. Bartlett saying: \"The working classes all over the world seem to be\ngoing crazy at once. In Europe it is far worse even than here.\"\n\nThe family mansion, in which I lived alone with a faithful coloured\nservant by the name of Sawyer, was not a house to which I could think of\nbringing a bride, much less so dainty a one as Edith Bartlett. Being a\nsufferer from insomnia, I had caused a secret sleeping chamber to be\nbuilt of stone beneath the foundation, and when even the silence of this\nretreat failed to bring slumber, I sometimes called in a professional\nmesmeriser to put me into a hypnotic sleep, from which Sawyer knew how\nto arouse me at a given time.\n\nOn the night of May 30, 1887, I was put to sleep as usual. That night\nthe house was wholly destroyed by fire; and it was not until a hundred\nand thirteen years later, in September 2000 A.D., that the subterranean\nchamber was discovered, and myself, the sleeper, aroused by Dr. Leete, a\nphysician of Boston on the retired list. My companion, Dr. Leete, led\nthe way to a belvedere on the house-top. \"Be pleased to look around\nyou,\" he said, \"and tell me whether this is the Boston of the nineteenth\ncentury.\"\n\nAt my feet lay a great city. Miles of broad streets, shaded by trees,\nand lined with fine buildings, for the most part not in continuous\nblocks, but set in larger or smaller enclosures, stretched in every\ndirection. Every quarter contained large open squares filled with trees,\namong which statues glistened and fountains flashed in the late\nafternoon sun. Public buildings of a colossal size and an architectural\ngrandeur unparalleled in my day raised their stately piles on every\nside. Surely, I had never before seen this city, nor one comparable to\nit. Raising my eyes at last towards the horizon, I looked westward. That\nblue ribbon winding away to the sunset, was it not the sinuous Charles?\nI looked east: Boston harbour stretched before me with its headlands,\nnot one of its green islets missing.\n\n\"If you had told me,\" I said, profoundly awed, \"that a thousand years\ninstead of a hundred had elapsed since I last looked on this city, I\nshould now believe you.\"\n\n\"Only a century has passed,\" he answered; \"but many a millennium in the\nworld's history has seen changes less extraordinary.\"\n\n\n_II.--How the Great Change Came About_\n\nAfter Dr. Leete had responded to numerous questions on my part, he asked\nin what point the contrast between the new and the old city struck me\nmost forcibly.\n\n\"To speak of small things before great,\" I replied, \"I really think\nthat the complete absence of chimneys and their smoke is the detail that\nfirst impressed me.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" ejaculated my companion. \"I had forgotten the chimneys, it is so\nlong since they went out of use. It is nearly a century since the crude\nmethod of combustion, on which you depended for heat, became obsolete.\"\n\n\"In general,\" I said, \"what impresses me most about the city is the\nmaterial prosperity on the part of the people which its magnificence\nimplies.\"\n\n\"I would give a great deal for just one glimpse of the Boston of your\nday,\" replied Dr. Leete. \"No doubt the cities of that period were rather\nshabby affairs. If you had the taste to make them splendid, which I\nwould not be so rude as to question, the general poverty resulting from\nyour extraordinary industrial system would not have given you the means.\nMoreover, the excessive individualism was inconsistent with much public\nspirit. Nowadays, there is no destination of the surplus wealth so\npopular as the adornment of the city, which all enjoy in equal degree.\nIt is growing dark,\" he added. \"Let us descend into the house; I want to\nintroduce my wife and daughter to you.\"\n\nThe apartment in which we found the ladies, as well as the entire\ninterior of the house, was filled with a mellow light, which I knew must\nbe artificial, although I could not discover the source from which it\nwas diffused. Mrs. Leete was an exceptionally fine-looking and\nwell-preserved woman, while her daughter, in the first blush of\nwomanhood, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. In this lovely\ncreature feminine softness and delicacy were deliciously combined with\nan appearance of health and abounding physical vitality too often\nlacking in the maidens with whom alone I could compare her. The evening\nwhich followed was certainly unique in the history of social\nintercourse.\n\nWhen the ladies retired, Dr. Leete sounded me as to my disposition for\nsleep, but gladly bore me company when I confessed I was afraid of it. I\nwas curious, too, as to the changes.\n\n\"To make a beginning somewhere,\" said I, \"what solution, if any, have\nyou found for the labour question? It was the Sphinx's riddle of the\nnineteenth century, and when I dropped out the Sphinx was threatening to\ndevour society because the answer was not forthcoming.\"\n\n\"The riddle may be said to have solved itself,\" replied Dr. Leete. \"The\nsolution came as the result of a process of industrial evolution which\ncould not have terminated otherwise. The movement toward the conduct of\nbusiness by larger and larger aggregations of capital--the tendency\ntoward monopolies, which had been desperately and vainly resisted--was\nrecognised at last as a process to a golden future.\n\n\"Early in the last century the evolution was completed by the final\nconsolidation of the entire capital of the nation. The industry and\ncommerce of the country, ceasing to be conducted by a set of\nirresponsible corporations and syndicates of private persons at their\ncaprice and for their profit, were entrusted to a single syndicate\nrepresenting the people, to be conducted for the common profit. That is\nto say, the nation organised itself as one great business corporation in\nwhich all other corporations were absorbed. It became the one\ncapitalist, the sole employer, the final monopoly, in the profits and\neconomies of which all citizens shared. The epoch of trusts ended in the\nGreat Trust. In a word, the people of the United States concluded to\nassume the conduct of their own business, just as a hundred odd years\nearlier they had assumed the conduct of their own government. Strangely\nlate in the world's history, the obvious fact was perceived that no\nbusiness is so essentially the public business as the industry and\ncommerce on which the people's livelihood depends, and that to entrust\nit to private persons to be managed for private profit is a folly\nsimilar in kind, though vastly greater in magnitude, to that of\nsurrendering the functions of political government to kings and nobles\nto be conducted for their personal glorification.\"\n\n\"So stupendous a change,\" said I, \"did not, of course, take place\nwithout bloodshed and terrible convulsions?\"\n\n\"On the contrary, there was absolutely no violence. The great\ncorporations had taught an entirely new set of ideas. The people had\nseen syndicates handling revenues; greater than those of states, and\ndirecting the labours of hundreds of thousands of men with an efficiency\nunattainable in smaller operations. It had come to be recognised as an\naxiom that the larger the business the simpler the principles that can\nbe applied to it; that, as the machine is truer than the hand, so the\nsystem, which in a great concern does the work of the master's eye, in a\nsmall business turns out more accurate results. Thus, thanks to the\ncorporations themselves, when it was proposed that the nation should\nassume their functions, the suggestion implied nothing that seemed\nimpracticable.\"\n\n\"In my day,\" said I, \"it was considered that the proper functions of\ngovernment, strictly speaking, were limited to keeping the peace and\ndefending the people against the public enemy.\"\n\n\"And, in heaven's name, who are the public enemies?\" exclaimed Dr.\nLeete. \"Are they France, England, Germany? or Hunger, Cold, Nakedness?\nIn your day governments were accustomed, on the slightest international\nmisunderstanding, to seize upon the bodies of citizens and deliver them\nover by hundreds of thousands to death and mutilation, wasting their\ntreasures the while like water; and all this oftenest for no imaginable\nprofit to the victims. We have no wars now, and our governments no war\npowers; but in order to protect every citizen against hunger, cold, and\nnakedness, and provide for all his physical and mental needs, the\nfunction is assumed of directing his industry for a term of years. Not\neven for the best ends would men now allow their governments such\npowers as were then used for the most maleficent.\"\n\n\"Leaving comparisons aside,\" I said, \"the demagoguery and corruption of\nour public men would have been considered, in my day, insuperable\nobjections to government assuming charge of the national industries.\"\n\n\"No doubt you were right,\" rejoined Dr. Leete; \"but all that is changed.\nWe have no parties or politicians.\"\n\n\"Human nature itself must have changed very much.\"\n\n\"Not at all; but the conditions of human life have changed, and with\nthem the motives of human action. The organisation of society with you\nwas such that officials were under a constant temptation to misuse their\npower for the private profit of themselves or others. Now society is so\nconstituted that there is absolutely no way in which an official could\npossibly make any profit for himself or anyone else by a misuse of his\npower.\"\n\n\n_III.--Labour's New Regime_\n\n\"But you have not yet told me how you have settled the labour problem.\"\n\n\"When the nation became the sole employer,\" said Dr. Leete, \"all the\ncitizens became employees, to be distributed according to the needs of\nindustry.\"\n\n\"That is, you have simply applied the principle of universal military\nservice, as understood in our day, to the labour question.\"\n\n\"Yes. Nevertheless, to speak of service being compulsory would be a weak\nway to state its absolute inevitableness. If it were conceivable that a\nman could escape it, he would be left with no possible way to provide\nfor his existence. The period of industrial service is twenty-four\nyears, beginning at the close of the course of education at twenty-one,\nand terminating at forty-five. After forty-five, the citizen is liable\nto special calls for labour emergencies till fifty-five.\"\n\n\"But what administrative talent can be equal to determining wisely what\ntrade or business every individual in a great nation shall pursue?\"\n\n\"The administration has nothing to do with determining that point. Every\nman determines it for himself in accordance with his natural aptitude,\nthe utmost pains being taken to enable him to find out what his natural\naptitude really is. Usually, long before he is mustered into service, a\nyoung man has found out the pursuit he wants to follow, has acquired a\ngreat deal of knowledge about it, and is awaiting impatiently the time\nwhen he can enlist in its ranks.\"\n\n\"Surely, it can hardly be that the number of volunteers for any trade is\nexactly the number needed?\"\n\n\"The supply is always expected to equal fully the demand. The rate of\nvolunteering is closely watched. It is the business of the\nadministration to equalise the attractions of the trades, so that the\nlightest trades have the longest hours, while an arduous trade, such as\nmining, has very short hours.\"\n\n\"How is the class of common labourers recruited?\"\n\n\"It is the grade to which all new recruits belong for the first three\nyears. If a man were so stupid as to have no choice as to occupation, he\nwould simply remain a common labourer.\"\n\n\"Having once elected and entered on a trade or occupation, I suppose he\nhas to stick to it the rest of his life?\"\n\n\"Not necessarily,\" replied Dr. Leete; \"while frequent and merely\ncapricious changes of occupation are net permitted, every worker is\nallowed, of course under regulations and in accordance with the\nexigencies of the service, to volunteer for another industry which he\nthinks would suit him better than his first choice. It is only the\npoorer sort of workmen who desire to change. Of course, transfers or\ndischarges are always given when health demands them.\"\n\n\"How are the brain-workers selected? That must require a very delicate\nsort of sifting process?\"\n\n\"So it does, the most delicate possible test; so we leave the question\nwhether a man shall be a brain or handworker entirely to him to settle.\nAt the end of the three years of common labour, if a man feels he can do\nbetter work with his brain than his muscles, the schools of technology,\nmedicine, art, music, histrionics, and higher liberal learning are open\nto him without condition. But anyone without the special aptitude would\nfind it easier to do double hours at his trade than try to keep up with\nthe classes. This opportunity for a professional training remains open\nto every man till the age of thirty.\"\n\n\n_IV.--The New Plan_\n\nDr. and Mrs. Leete were startled to learn I had been all over the city\nalone. \"You must have seen a good many new things,\" said Mrs. Leete, as\nwe sat down to table.\n\n\"I think what surprised me as much as anything was not to find any\nstores in Washington Street, or any banks of State. What have you done\nwith the merchants and bankers?\"\n\n\"Their functions are obsolete in the modern world. There is neither\nselling nor buying, and we have no money. As soon as the nation became\nthe producer of all sorts of commodities, there was no need of exchanges\nbetween individuals. Everything was procurable from one source, and that\nonly. A system of direct distribution from the national storehouses took\nthe place of trade, and for this money was unnecessary.\"\n\n\"How is this distribution managed?\"\n\n\"A credit, corresponding to his share of the annual product of the\nnation, is given to every citizen on the public books at the beginning\nof each year, and a credit-card issued him, with which he procures at\nthe public stores, found in every community, whatever he desires,\nwhenever he desires it.\n\n\"You observe,\" he pursued, as I was curiously examining the piece of\npasteboard he gave me, \"that this credit-card is issued for a certain\nnumber of dollars. We keep the old term dollars as an algebraical symbol\nfor comparing the values of products with one another. All are priced in\ndollars and cents, just as in your day. The value of what I procure on\nthis card is checked off by the clerk, who pricks out of these tiers of\nsquares the price of what I order.\"\n\n\"If you wanted to buy something of your neighbour, could you transfer\npart of your credit to him?\"\n\n\"Our neighbours have nothing to sell us; but, in any event, one's credit\nwould not be transferable, being strictly personal. Before the nation\ncould even think of honouring any such transfer, it would be bound to\ninquire into its equity. It would have been reason enough, had there\nbeen no other, for abolishing money, that its possession was no\nindication of rightful title to it. In the hands of the man who had\nstolen it, it was as good as if earned by industry.\n\n\"People nowadays interchange gifts, but buying and selling is considered\nabsolutely inconsistent with the mutual benevolence and\ndisinterestedness which should prevail between citizens. According to\nour ideas, the practice of buying and selling is essentially anti-social\nin all its tendencies. It is an education in self-seeking at the expense\nof others, and no society whose citizens are trained in such a school\ncan possibly rise above a very low grade of civilisation.\"\n\n\"What if you have to spend more than your card allows in any one year?\"\n\n\"If extraordinary expenses should exhaust it we can obtain a limited\nadvance on next year's credit at a heavy discount. If a man showed\nhimself a reckless spendthrift he would receive his allowance monthly or\nweekly instead of yearly, or, if necessary, not be permitted to handle\nit at all.\"\n\n\"If you don't spend your allowance, I suppose it accumulates?\"\n\n\"That is also permitted to a certain extent when a special outlay is\nanticipated. But unless notice is given, it is presumed that the citizen\nwho does not fully expend his credit did not have occasion to do so, and\nthe balance is turned into the general surplus.\"\n\n\"Such a system does not encourage saving habits.\"\n\n\"It is not intended to. No man has care for the morrow, either for\nhimself or his children, for the nation guarantees the nurture,\neducation, and maintenance of every citizen from the cradle to the\ngrave.\"\n\n\"But what inducement can a man have to put forth his best endeavours\nwhen, however much or little he accomplishes, his income remains the\nsame?\"\n\n\"Does it then really seem to you that human nature is insensible to any\nmotives save fear of want and love of luxury, that you expect security\nand equality of livelihood to leave men without incentives to effort?\nYour contemporaries did not really think so. When it was a question of\nthe grandest class of efforts, the most absolute self-devotion, they\ndepended on quite other motives. Not higher wages, but honour and the\nhope of men's gratitude, patriotism, and the inspiration of duty were\nthe motives they set before their soldiers. Now that industry of\nwhatever sort is no longer self-service, but service of the nation,\npatriotism--passion for humanity--impels the worker as in your day it\ndid the soldier.\"\n\nDuring the next few days I investigated many other of the social and\ndomestic arrangements of Bostonians of the twenty-first century, and\nfrom what I saw myself and heard from my hosts, I gained some tolerably\nclear ideas of modern organisation, and the system of distribution. But\nit seemed to me that the system of production and the direction of the\nindustrial army must be wonderfully complex and difficult.\n\n\"I assure you that it is nothing of the kind,\" said Dr. Leete. \"The\nentire field of production and constructive industry is divided into ten\ngreat departments, each representing a group of allied industries, each\nindustry being in turn represented by a subordinate bureau, which has a\ncomplete record of the plant and force under its control, of the present\noutput, and means of increasing it. The estimates of the distributive\ndepartment, after adoption by the administration, are sent as mandates\nto the ten great departments, which allot them to the subordinate\nbureaus representing the particular industries, and these set the men at\nwork. Each bureau is responsible for the task given it. Even if in the\nhands of the consumer an article turns out unfit, the system enables the\nfault to be traced back to the original workman. After the necessary\ncontingents of labour have been detailed for the various industries, the\namount of labour left for other employment is expended in creating fixed\ncapital, such as buildings, machinery, engineering works, and so forth.\"\n\nThat evening and the next following I sat up late talking with Dr. Leete\nof the changes of the last hundred and thirteen years; but on the\nSunday, my first in the twenty-first century, I fell into a state of\nprofound depression, accentuated by consideration of the vast moral gap\nbetween the century to which I belonged and that in which I found\nmyself. There was no place anywhere for me. I was neither dead nor\nproperly alive. Now I realised the mingled pity, curiosity, and aversion\nwhich I, as a representative of an abhorred epoch, must excite in all\naround me; but that Edith Leete must share their feelings was more than\nI could bear.\n\nTowards nightfall I entered the subterranean chamber and sat down there,\nfeeling utterly alone. Presently Edith stood in the door.\n\n\"Has it never occurred to you,\" I said, \"that my position is more\nutterly alone than any human being's ever was before?\"\n\n\"Oh, you must not talk in that way. You don't know how it makes me feel\nto see you so forlorn,\" she exclaimed.\n\nI caught her hands in my own. \"Are you so blind as not to see why such\nkindness as you have all shown me is not enough to make me happy?\"\n\n\"Are you sure it is not you who are blind?\" she said.\n\nThat was all; but it was enough, for it told me that this radiant\ndaughter of a golden age had bestowed upon me not alone her pity, but\nher love. And now I first knew what was perhaps the strangest feature of\nmy strange experience: Edith was the great grand-daughter of no other\nthan my lost love Edith Bartlett.\n\n\n\n\nJEREMY BENTHAM\n\nPrinciples of Morals and Legislation\n\n     Jeremy Bentham, the son and grandson of attorneys, was born in\n     London on February 15, 1748. He was called to the Bar, but did not\n     practise. His fame rests on his work in the fields of\n     jurisprudence, political science, and ethics. He is accounted the\n     founder of the \"utilitarian\" school of philosophy, of which the\n     theory is that the production of the \"greatest happiness of the\n     greatest number\" is the criterion of morals and the aim of\n     politics. Dying on June 6, 1832, his body, in accordance with his\n     own wishes, was dissected, and his skeleton dressed in his\n     customary garb and preserved in the University College, London.\n     Bentham's failure at the Bar caused him no small disappointment,\n     and it was not until the publication of a \"Fragment on Government\"\n     in 1776 that he felt himself redeemed with public opinion. The\n     \"Principles of Morals and Legislation\" was first published in 1789,\n     but was actually in print nine years earlier. It was primarily\n     intended as the introductory volume of a complete work designed to\n     cover the whole field of the principles of legislation--principles\n     which, as we have seen, were based on that doctrine of utility\n     which the author regarded as equally the basis of ethics.\n\n\n_I.--Calculation of Pleasures and Pains_\n\nMankind is governed by pain and pleasure. Utility is that property in\nanything which tends to produce happiness in the party concerned,\nwhether an individual or a community. The principle of utility makes\nutility the criterion for approval or disapproval of every kind of\naction. An act which conforms to this principle is one which ought to be\ndone, or is not one which ought not to be done; is right, or, at least,\nnot wrong. There is no other criterion possible which cannot ultimately\nbe reduced to the personal sentiment of the individual.\n\nThe sources or sanctions of pleasure and pain are four--the physical, in\nthe ordinary course of nature; political, officially imposed; moral or\npopular, imposed by public opinion; and religion. Pains under the first\nhead are calamities; under the other three are punishments. Under the\nfirst three heads, they concern the present life only. The second,\nthird, and the fourth, as concerns this life, operate through the first;\nbut the first operates independently of the others.\n\nPleasures and pains, then, are the instruments with which the legislator\nhas to work; he must, therefore, be able to gauge their relative values.\nThese depend primarily and simply on four things--intensity, duration,\ncertainty or uncertainty, propinquity or remoteness. Secondarily, on\nfecundity, the consequent probable multiplication of the like\nsensations; and purity, the improbability of consequent contrary\nsensations. Finally, on extent--the number of persons pleasurably or\npainfully affected. All these being weighed together, if the pleasurable\ntendency predominates, the act is good; if the painful, bad.\n\nPleasures and pains are either simple or complex--_i.e._, resolvable\ninto several simple pleasures, and may be enumerated; as those of the\nsenses, of wealth, of piety, of benevolence, of malevolence, of\nassociation, of imagination. Different persons are sensible to the same\npleasure in different degrees, and the sensibility of the individual\nvaries under different circumstances. Circumstances affecting\nsensibility are various--such as health, strength, sex, age, education;\nthey may be circumstances of the body, of the mind, of the inclinations.\nTheir influence can be reckoned approximately, but should be taken into\nconsideration so far as is practicable.\n\nThe legislator and the judge are concerned with the existing causes of\npleasure and pain, but of pain rather than pleasure--the mischiefs which\nit is desired to prevent, and the punishments by which it is sought to\nprevent them--and for the due apportionment of the latter they should\nhave before them the complete list of punishments and of circumstances\naffecting sensibility. By taking the two together--with one list or the\nother for basis, preferably the punishment list--a classification of\nappropriate penalties is attainable.\n\nAn analytical summary of the circumstances affecting sensibility will\ndistinguish as secondary--_i.e._, as acting not immediately but\nmediately through the primary--sex, age, station in life, education,\nclimate, religion. The others, all primary, are connate--_viz._, radical\nframe of mind and body--or adventitious. The adventitious are personal\nor exterior. The personal concern a man's disposition of body or mind,\nor his actions; the exterior the things or the persons he is concerned\nwith.\n\n\n_II.--Human Actions Analysed_\n\nThe business of government is to promote the happiness of society by\nrewarding and punishing, especially by punishing acts tending to\ndiminish happiness. An act demands punishment in proportion to its\ntendency to diminish happiness--_i.e._, as the sum of its consequences\ndoes so. Only such consequences are referred to as influence the\nproduction of pain or pleasure. The intention, as involving other\nconsequences, must also be taken into consideration. And the intention\ndepends on the state both of the will and of the understanding as to the\ncircumstances--consciousness, unconsciousness, or false consciousness\nregarding them. Hence with regard to each action we have to consider (1)\nthe act itself, (2) the circumstances, (3) the intentionality, (4) the\nattendant consciousness, and also (5) the motive, and (6) the general\ndisposition indicated.\n\nActs are positive and negative--_i.e._, of commission and omission, or\nforbearance; external or corporal, and internal or mental; transitive,\naffecting some body other than the agent's, or intransitive; transient\nor continued (mere repetition is not the same as habit). Circumstances\nare material when visibly related to the consequences in point of\ncasuality, directly or indirectly. They may be criminative, or\nexculpative, or aggravative, or evidential.\n\nThe intention may regard the act itself only, or its consequences\nalso--for instance, you may touch a man intentionally, and by doing so\ncause his death unintentionally. But you cannot intend the\nconsequences--though you may have desired them--without intending the\naction. The consequences may be intended directly or indirectly, and may\nor may not be the only thing intended. The intention is good or bad as\nthe consequences intended are good or bad.\n\nBut these actually depend on the circumstances which are independent of\nthe intention; here the important point is the man's consciousness of\nthe circumstances, which are objects not of the will, but of the\nunderstanding. If he is conscious of the circumstances and of their\nmateriality, the act is advised; if not, unadvised. Unadvisedness may be\ndue either to heedlessness or to misapprehension. And here we may remark\nthat we may speak of a bad intention, though the motive was good, if the\nconsequences intended were bad, and _vice versa_. In this sense also,\nthe intention may be innocent--that is, not bad, without being\npositively good.\n\nOf motives, we are concerned with practical motives only, not those\nwhich are purely speculative. These are either internal or external;\neither events _in esse_, or events in prospect. The immediate motive is\nan internal motive _in esse_--an awakened pleasure or pain at the\nprospect of pleasure or pain. All others are comparatively remote.\n\nNow, since the motive is always primarily to produce some pleasure or\nprevent some pain, and since pleasure is identical with good, and pain\nwith evil, it follows that no motive is in itself bad. The motive is\ngood if it tends to produce a balance of pleasure; bad, if a balance of\npain. Thus any and every motive may produce actions good, indifferent,\nor bad. Hence, in cataloguing motives, we must employ only neutral\nterms, _i.e._, not such as are associated with goodness as--piety,\nhonour--or with badness--as lust, avarice.\n\nThe motives, of course, correspond to the various pleasures as\npreviously enumerated. They may be classified as good, bad, or\nindifferent, according as their consequences are more commonly good,\nbad, or indifferent; but the dangers of such classification are obvious.\nIn fact, we cannot affirm goodness, badness, or indifference of motive,\nexcept in the particular instance. A better classification is into the\nsocial--including goodwill, love of reputation, desire of amity,\nreligion; dissocial--displeasure; self-regarding--physical desire,\npecuniary interest, love of power, self-preservation.\n\nOf all these, the dictates of goodwill are the surest of coinciding with\nutility, since utility corresponds precisely to the widest and\nbest-advised goodwill. Even here, however, there may be failure, since\nbenevolence towards one group may clash with benevolence towards\nanother. Next stands love of reputation, which is less secure, since it\nmay lead to asceticism and hypocrisy. Third comes the desire of amity,\nvaluable as the sphere in which amity is sought is extended, but also\nliable to breed insincerity. Religion would stand first of all if we all\nhad a correct perception of the divine goodness; but not when we\nconceive of God as malevolent or capricious; and, as a matter of fact,\nour conception of the Deity is controlled by our personal biases.\n\nThe self-regarding motives are, _ex hypothesi_, not so closely related\nto utility as the social motives, and the dissocial motives manifestly\nstand at the bottom of the scale. In respect to any particular action\nthere may be a conflict of motives, some impelling towards it, others\nrestraining from it; and any motive may come in conflict with any other\nmotive. It will be found hereafter that in the case of some offences the\nmotive is material in the highest degree, and in others wholly\nimmaterial; in some cases easy, and in others impossible to gauge.\n\n\n_III.--The Principles of Punishment_\n\nGoodness or badness, then, cannot be predicated of the motive. What is\ngood or bad in the man when actuated by one motive or another is his\ndisposition, or permanent attitude of mind, which is good or bad as\ntending to produce effects beneficial to the community. It is to be\nconsidered in regard to its influence on (1) his own happiness; (2)\nother people's. The legislator is concerned with it so far as it is\nmischievous to others. A man is held to be of a mischievous disposition\nwhen it is presumed--for it is a mere presumption--that he inclines to\nacts which appear to him mischievous. Here it is that \"intentionality\"\nand \"consciousness\" come in.\n\nWhere the tendency of the act is good, and the motive is a social one, a\ngood disposition is indicated; where the tendency is bad, and the motive\nis self-regarding, a bad disposition is indicated. Otherwise, the\nindication of good or bad disposition may be very dubious or\nnon-existent; as may easily be seen by constructing examples. Now, our\nproblem is to measure the depravity of a man's disposition, which may be\ndefined as the sum of his intentions. The causes of intentions are\nmotives. The social motives may be called tutelary, as tending to\nrestrain from mischievous intentions; but any motive may become tutelary\non occasion. Love of ease, and desire of self-preservation, in the form\nof fear of punishment, are apt to be tutelary motives.\n\nNow we can see that the strength of a temptation equals the sum of the\nimpelling motives, minus the sum of the tutelary motives. Hence, the\nmore susceptible a man is to the standing tutelary motives, the less\nlikely is he to yield to temptation; in other words, the less depraved\nis his disposition. Hence, given the strength of the temptation, the\nmischievousness of the disposition is as the apparent mischievousness of\nthe act. Given the apparent mischievousness of the act, the less the\ntemptation yielded to, the greater the depravity of disposition; but the\nstronger the temptation, the less conclusive is the evidence of\ndepravity. It follows that the penalty should be increased--_i.e._, the\nfear of punishment should be artificially intensified, in proportion as,\napart from that fear, the temptation is stronger.\n\nWe now come to consequences. The mischief of the act is the sum of its\nmischievous consequences, primary and secondary. The primary mischief\nsubdivides into original, _i.e._, to the sufferer in the first instance;\nand derivative, to the definite persons who suffer as a direct\nconsequence, whether through their interest, or merely through sympathy.\n\nThe secondary mischiefs, affecting not specific persons but the\ncommunity, are actual danger, or alarm--the apprehension of pain. For\nthe occurrence of the act points to the possibility of its repetition;\nweakening the influence both of the political and of the moral sanction.\nAn act of which the primary consequences are mischievous may have\nsecondary beneficial consequences, which altogether outweigh the primary\nmischief--_e.g._, the legal punishment of crime. The circumstances\ninfluencing the secondary mischiefs of alarm and danger are the\nintentionality, the consciousness, the motive, and the disposition;\ndanger depending on the real, and alarm on the apparent, state of mind,\nthough the real and the apparent coincide more commonly than not.\n\nBetween the completely intentional and completely unintentional act\nthere are various stages, depending on the degree of consciousness, as\nexplained above. The excellence of the motive does not obliterate the\nmischievousness of the act; nor _vice versa_; but the mischief may be\naggravated by a bad motive, as pointing to greater likelihood of\nrepetition. This is less the case, however, when the motive is\ndissocial, such motives being generally less constant, as having\nreference to a particular, not a general, object; the religious motive,\nas being more constant, is more pernicious when it has a mischievous\nissue.\n\nPunishment, being primarily mischievous, is out of place when\ngroundless, inefficacious, unprofitable, or needless. Punishment is\ninefficious when it is _ex post facto_, or extra-legal, or secret; or in\nthe case of irresponsible (including intoxicated) persons; and also so\nfar as the intention of the act was incomplete, or where the act was\nactually or practically under compulsion. It is unprofitable when under\nordinary circumstances the evils of the punishment outweigh those of the\noffence; this subject, however, will be more fully dealt with later. It\nis needless when the end in view can be as well or better attained\notherwise.\n\nNow, the aim of the legislator is (1) to prevent mischief altogether;\n(2) to minimise the inclination to do mischief; (3) to make the\nprevention cheap. Hence, (1) the punishment must outweigh the profit of\nthe offence to the doer; (2) the greater the mischief, the greater the\nexpense worth incurring to prevent it; (3) alternative offences which\nare not equally mischievous, as robbery and robbery with murder, must\nnot be equally punished; (4) the punishment must not be excessive, and\ntherefore should take into account the circumstances influencing\nsensibility; (5) so also must the weakness of the punishment due to its\nremoteness, and the impelling force of habit.\n\nThe properties of punishment necessary to its adjustment to a particular\noffence are these: (1) variability in point of quantity, so that it\nshall be neither excessive nor deficient; (2) equality, so that when\napplied in equal degree, it shall cause equal pain--_e.g._, banishment\nmay mean much to one man, little to another; (3) commensurability with\nother punishments; (4) characteristicalness, or appropriateness; (5)\nexemplarity--it must not seem less than it is in fact; (6)\nfrugality--none of the pain it causes is to be wasted. Minor desirable\nqualities are (7) subserviency to reformation of character; (8)\nefficiency in disabling from mischief; (9) subserviency to compensation;\n(10) popularity, _i.e._, accordant to common approbation; (11)\nremissibility.\n\n\n_IV.--Division of Offences_\n\nAn offence--a punishable act--is constituted such by the community;\nthough it ought not to be an offense unless contrary to utility, it may\nbe so. It is assumed to be a detrimental act; detrimental therefore to\nsome person or persons, whether the offender himself or other assignable\npersons, or to persons not assignable.\n\nOffences against assignable persons other than the offender form the\nfirst class; offences against individuals, or private offences, or\nprivate extra-regarding offences. The second class is formed by\nsemi-public offences, _i.e._, not against assignable individuals, nor\nthe community at large, but a separable group in the community, _e.g._,\na class or a locality. The third class are those which are simply\nself-regarding; the fourth, against the community at large; the fifth,\nmultiform or heterogeneous, comprising falsehood and breaches of trust.\n\nThe first class may be subdivided into offences against (1) the person,\n(2) reputation, (3) property, (4) condition--_i.e._, the serviceableness\nto the individual of other persons, (5) person and property together,\n(6) person and reputation together.\n\nThe second, \"semi-public,\" class, being acts which endanger a portion of\nthe community, are those operating through calamity, or of mere\ndelinquency. The latter are subdivided on the same lines as private\noffences. So with the third or self-regarding class.\n\nIn class four, public offences fall under eleven divisions: (1)\noffences against external security--_i.e._, from foreign foes; (2)\nagainst justice--_i.e._, the execution of justice; (3) against the\npreventive branch of police; (4) against the public force--_i.e._,\nmilitary control; (5) against increase of national felicity; (6) against\npublic wealth--_i.e._, the exchequer; (7) against population; (8)\nagainst national wealth--_i.e._, enrichment of the population; (9)\nagainst sovereignty; (10) against religion; (11) against national\ninterests in general.\n\nIn class five, falsehood comprises simple falsehoods, forgery,\npersonation, and perjury; again distributable like the private offences.\nIn the case of trusts, there are two parties--the trustee and the\nbeneficiary. Offences under this head cannot, for various reasons, be\nconveniently referred to offences against property or condition, which\nalso must be kept separate from each other. As regards the existence of\na trust: as against the trustee, offences are (1) wrongful\nnon-investment of trust, and wrongful interception of trust, where the\ntrusteeship is to his benefit; or (2) where it is troublesome, wrongful\nimposition of trust. Both may similarly be offences against the\nbeneficiary. As regards the exercise of the trust, we have negative\nbreach of trust, positive breach of trust, abuse of trust, disturbance\nof trust, and bribery.\n\nWe may now distribute class one--offences against the individual--into\n_genera_; to do so with the other classes would be superfluous. Simple\noffences against the person are actions referring to his actual person,\nbody or mind, or external objects affecting his happiness. These must\ntake effect either through his will, or not. In the former case, either\nby constraint, or restraint, confinement, or banishment.\n\nIn any case the effect will be mortal or not mortal; if not mortal,\nreparable or irreparable injury when corporal, actual, or apprehended,\nsufferance when mental. So the list stands--simple and irreparable\ncorporal injuries, simple injurious restraint or constraint, wrongful\nconfinement or banishment, homicide or menacement, actual or apprehended\nmental injuries. Against reputation the _genera_ of offences are (i)\ndefamation, (2) vilification. Of offences against property, simple in\ntheir effects, whether by breach of trust or otherwise, the _genera_\nare: wrongful non-investment, interception, divestment, usurpation,\ninvestment, of property; wrongful withholding of services, destruction,\noccupation, or detainment, embezzlement, theft, defraudment, extortion.\n\nOf complex offences against person and reputation together: corporal\ninsults, insulting menacement, seduction, and forcible seduction, simple\nlascivious injuries. Against person and property together: forcible\ninterception, divestment, usurpation, investment, or destruction of\nproperty, forcible occupation or detainment of movables, forcible entry,\nforcible detainment of immovables, robbery.\n\nAs to offences against condition: conditions are either domestic or\ncivil; domestic relations are either purely natural, purely instituted,\nor mixed. Of the first, we are concerned only with the marital,\nparental, and filial relations. Under the second head are the relations\nof master and servant, guardian and ward. In the case of master and\nservants, the headings of offences are much like those against property.\nGuardianship is required in the cases of infancy and insanity; again the\nlist of offences is similar. The parental and filial relations, so far\nas they are affected by institutions, comprise those both of master and\nservant, and of guardian and ward; so that the offences are\ncorrespondent.\n\nThe relation of husband and wife also comprises those of master and\nguardian to servant and ward. But there are further certain reciprocal\nservices which are the subject of the marital contract, by which\npolygamy and adultery are constituted offences in Christian countries,\nand also the refusal of conjugal rights.\n\nFrom domestic conditions we pass to civil. Eliminating all those which\ncan be brought under the categories of trusts and domestic conditions,\nthere remain conditions, constituted by beneficial powers over things,\nbeneficial rights to things, rights to services, and by corresponding\nduties; and between these and property there is no clear line of\ndemarcation, yet we can hit upon some such conditions as separable. Such\nare rank and profession which entail specific obligations and\nrights--these are not property but conditions; as distinguished from\nother exclusive rights bestowed by the law, concerned with saleable\narticles (_e.g._, copyright), which convey not conditions, but property.\nSo, naturalisation conveys the conditions of a natural born subject.\n\nPublic offences are to be catalogued in a manner similar to private\noffences.\n\nMy object has been to combine intelligibility with precision; technical\nterms lack the former quality, popular terms the latter. Hence the plan\nof the foregoing analysis has been to take the logical whole constituted\nby the sum of possible offences, dissect it in as many directions as\nwere necessary, and carry the process down to the point where each idea\ncould be expressed in current phraseology. Thus it becomes equally\napplicable to the legal concerns of all countries or systems.\n\nThe advantages of this method are: it is convenient for the memory,\ngives room for general propositions, points out the reason of the law,\nand is applicable to the laws of all nations. Hence we are able to\ncharacterise the five classes of offences. Thus, of private offences, we\nnote that they are primarily against assignable individuals, admit of\ncompensation and retaliation, and so on; of semi-public offences, that\nthey are not against assignable individuals, and, with self-regarding\noffences, admit of neither compensation nor retaliation; to which a\nseries of generalisations respecting each class can be added.\n\nThe relation between penal jurisprudence and private ethics must be\nclarified. Both are concerned with the production of happiness. A man's\nprivate ethics are concerned with his duty to himself and to his\nneighbour; prudence, probity, and beneficence. Those cases described as\nunmeet for punishment are all within the ethical, but outside the\nlegislative, sphere, except the \"groundless\" cases, which are outside\nboth. The special field of private ethics is among the cases where\npunishment is \"unprofitable\" or \"inefficacious,\" notably those which are\nthe concern of prudence. So with the rules of beneficence; but\nbeneficence might well be made compulsory in a greater degree than it\nis. The special sphere of legislation, however, lies in the field of\nprobity.\n\nA work of jurisprudence is either expository of what the law is, or\ncensorial, showing what it should be. It may relate to either local or\nuniversal jurisprudence; but if expository can hardly be more than\nlocal. It may be internal, or international, though there is very little\nlaw in international procedure; if internal, it may be national or\nprovincial, it may be historical or living; it may be divided into\nstatutory and customary, into civil and penal or criminal.\n\n\n\n\nJEAN BLOCH\n\nThe Future of War\n\n     The son of humble Polish Jews, Jean Bloch, who was born in 1836,\n     amassed a large fortune out of Russian railways. At the age of\n     fifty he retired from business, and devoted himself to an\n     exhaustive study of the conditions and possibilities of modern\n     warfare. To this labour he gave eight years, and, in 1898, the\n     fruits of it were published in a work of six volumes, in which he\n     sought to prove that, owing to the immensity of modern armies, the\n     deadliness of modern weapons, and the economic conditions that\n     prevailed in the larger states, a great European war was rapidly\n     becoming a physical impossibility. M. Bloch died on January 7,\n     1902, not before several of his theories had been tested by actual\n     campaigning. His main argument, however, concerns a war on European\n     frontiers between European powers, and such a war he did not live\n     to witness.\n\n\n_I.--The Problem Stated_\n\nIn the public and private life of modern Europe a presentiment is felt\nthat the present incessant growth of armaments must either call forth a\nwar, ruinous both for conqueror and for conquered, and ending perhaps in\ngeneral anarchy; or must reduce the people to the most lamentable\ncondition. Is this unique state of mind justified by possible\ncontingencies?\n\nIt is true that the ruinousness of war under modern conditions is\napparent to all. But this gives no sufficient guarantee that war will\nnot break forth suddenly, even in opposition to the wishes of those who\ntake part in it. Involuntarily we call to mind the words of the great\nBacon, that \"in the vanity of the world a greater field of action is\nopen for folly than for reason, and frivolity always enjoys more\ninfluence than judgment.\"\n\nWar, it would appear from an analysis of the history of mankind, has in\nthe past been a normal attribute of human life. The position now has\nchanged in much, but still the new continues to contend with the old.\nWith the innumerable voices which are now bound up in our public\nopinion, and the many different representatives of its interests,\nnaturally appear very different views on militarism and its object--war.\nThe propertied classes are inclined to confuse even the intellectual\nmovement against militarism with aspirations for the subversion of\nsocial order; on the other hand, agitators, seeking influence on the\nminds of the masses, deny all existing rights, and promise to the masses\nmore than the most perfect institutions could give them. And although\nthe masses are slow to surrender themselves to abstract reasoning, and\nact usually only under the influence of passion, there can be no doubt\nthat this agitation penetrates the people more and more deeply.\n\nWith such a position of affairs, it is necessary that influential and\neducated men should seriously attempt to give themselves a clear account\nof the effect of war under modern conditions; whether it will be\npossible to realise the aims of war, and whether the extermination of\nmillions of men will not be wholly without result.\n\nIf, after consideration of all circumstances, we answer ourselves: \"War\nwith such conditions is impossible; armies could not sustain those\ncataclysms which a future war would call forth; the civil population\ncould not bear the famine and interruption of industry\"; then we might\nask the general question: \"Why do the peoples more and more exhaust\ntheir strength in accumulating means of destruction which are valueless\neven to accomplish the ends for which they are prepared?\"\n\nIn recent times war has become even more terrible than before in\nconsequence of perfected weapons of destruction and systems of equipment\nand training utterly unknown in the past. Infantry and artillery fire\nwill have unprecedented force; smoke will no longer conceal from the\nsurvivors the terrible consequences of the battle. From this, and from\nthe fact that the mass of soldiers will have but recently been called\nfrom the field, the factory, and the workshop, it will appear that even\nthe psychical conditions of war have changed.\n\nThe thought of the convulsions which will be called forth by a war, and\nof the terrible means prepared for it, will hinder military enterprise.\nBut, on the other hand, the present conditions cannot continue to exist\nfor ever. The peoples groan under the burdens of militarism. We are\ncompelled to ask: Can the present incessant demands for money for\narmaments continue for ever without social outbreaks? The position of\nthe European world, the organic strength of which is wasted, on the one\nhand, in the sacrifice of millions on preparations for war, and, on the\nother, in a destructive agitation, which finds in militarism its apology\nand a fit instrument for acting on the minds of the people, must be\nadmitted to be abnormal and even sickly. Is it possible that there can\nbe no recovery from this? We are deeply persuaded that a means of\nrecovery exists if the European states would but set themselves the\nquestion--in what will result these armaments and this exhaustion? What\nwill be the nature of a future war? Can recourse be had to war even now\nfor the decision of questions in dispute, and is it possible to conceive\nthe settlement of such questions by means of the cataclysm which, with\nmodern means of destruction, a war between five great powers with ten\nmillions of soldiers would cause?\n\nThat war will become impossible in time is indicated by all. The more\napposite question is--when will the recognition of this inevitable truth\nbe spread among European governments and peoples? When the impossibility\nof resorting to war for the decision of international quarrels is\nevident to all, other means will be devised.\n\n\n_II.--How War Will Be Waged on Land_\n\nThe bullet of the present day can kill at a vastly greater distance than\nthe bullets fired during the Franco-German and Russo-Turkish campaigns.\nThe powder now in use has not only far more explosive force than the\nold-fashioned powder, but is almost smokeless. The introduction of the\nmagazine rifle has immensely increased the speed of firing. Moreover,\nthe rifle is undergoing constant improvement, and becoming a more and\nmore deadly weapon. It is easy, then, to see the following consequences\nfrom these changes: (1) The opening of battles from much greater\ndistances than formerly; (2) the necessity of loose formation in attack;\n(3) the strengthening of the defence; (4) the increase in the area of\nthe battlefield; and (5) the increase in casualties.\n\nIf we take rifle shooting alone into account, the length of range, the\nspeed of fire, the better training of troops in the use of the rifle,\nand the invention of contrivances to aid markmanship, cause such\neffectiveness of fire that it would be quite possible for rival armies\ntotally to annihilate each other. But a similar improvement has taken\nplace in artillery. The introduction of the quick-firing gun has\nmultiplied the speed of artillery fire many times over. The range has\nbeen increased by the perfecting of the structure of the guns, the use\nof nickel steel in the manufacture of projectiles, and the employment of\nsmokeless powder of immense explosive force.\n\nArtillery fire will now not only be employed against attacking troops,\nbut even more against supporting bodies, which must necessarily advance\nin closer order, and among whom, therefore, the action of artillery will\nbe even more deadly. We may well ask the question whether the nerves of\nshort-service soldiers will stand the terrible destructiveness of\nartillery fire.\n\nAs a necessary consequence of the increase in the power of fire, we\nfind the more frequent and more extended adoption of defences, and of\ncover for protection in attack and hampering the enemy. In addition,\nevery body of men appointed for defence, and even for attack--if it is\nnot to attack at once--must immediately entrench itself. The defenders,\nthus sheltered, and only requiring to expose their heads and hands, have\nan enormous advantage over the attacking party, which is exposed to an\nuninterrupted fire to which it can hardly reply.\n\nIn the opinion of competent military writers, the war of the future will\nconsist primarily of a series of battles for the possession of fortified\npositions, which will further be protected by wire obstructions,\npitfalls, etc., to overcome which great sacrifices must be made.\n\nAs infantry, even if weak in numbers, cannot be driven from an\nentrenched position without artillery fire, armies in future must find\nthemselves mainly dependent upon artillery. If the defending artillery\nbe equal in strength to that of the attackers, then the attacking\nartillery will be wiped out. If it be not equal in strength, then both\nmay be wiped out. The losses will be so great that the artillery of both\narmies will be paralysed, or it might be that the artillery would\ninflict such heavy losses on the troops that the war would become\nimpossible. Owing to smokeless powder, batteries of artillery are more\nexposed to the fire both of the enemy's artillery and of sharpshooters.\nA hundred sharpshooters at a distance of half a mile can, it is\nestimated, put a battery out of action in less than two minutes and a\nhalf. Let it be added that the high explosives used by modern artillery\nare extremely liable to explode, owing to being struck by the enemy, or\nowing to concussion caused by an enemy's shell, or to mishandling.\n\nFor these reasons, the prospect before an artillery battery entering\ninto a modern European battle is a prospect of demolition.\n\nThe European infantry of the future will be composed largely of\nimperfectly trained short-service soldiers and of reserves who have\nforgotten their training. Infantry soldiers are liable to be killed by\nbullets from enemies whom they cannot see, whose rifles, owing to the\ndistance, they may not even be able to hear. Their officers will be\npicked off in great numbers by sharpshooters, and they will be left\nwithout leaders. It is calculated that an average army is composed\none-third of brave men, one-third of cowards, and one-third of men who\nwill be brave if properly led. The loss of the officers must tend to\ncause this latter section to join the cowards.\n\nFurthermore, the enormous area of modern battlefields involves great\ndemands upon the endurance of the foot soldiers, and troops mainly drawn\nfrom industrial centres can hardly be expected to meet such demands.\n\nUnless the attacking artillery is overwhelmingly stronger than the\ndefending artillery, defensive infantry in an entrenched position cannot\nbe ousted from its position unless the attackers outnumber their\nopponents by six or seven to one, and are prepared to lose heavily. The\nmurderous zone of a thousand yards lying between the armies cannot be\ncrossed save at fearful sacrifice, and the bayonet as a weapon of attack\nis now altogether obsolete.\n\nCan any commander be found who will possess the extraordinary qualities\nneeded for the control of a modern European army--a whole people\npossessed of weapons of tremendous power and deadliness, spread over an\narea of vast extent, engaged upon battles that will necessarily last for\ndays, subjected to a nervous strain such as has never been experienced\nin warfare? The responsibility of subordinate officers must, under such\ncircumstances, be far greater than it used to be; the commander cannot\nkeep everything under his eye. And, as already said, the officers will\nbe especially picked out for death. Under all these conditions, it is\nlikely that after battles with enormous slaughter, victory will be\nclaimed by both sides.\n\nWe must further take into account the influence of a modern war upon\npopulations. What will be the effect on the temper of modern armies if\nwar should be prolonged? How will the civil population receive the news\nfrom the front? What convulsions must we expect when, after the\nconclusion of peace, the soldiers return to their destroyed and\ndesolated homes?\n\nA great European war of the future will, it may be assumed, be fought on\none or the other frontier of Germany--in the Franco-German area on the\nwestern side; or the German-Austro-Russian area on the eastern--or on\nboth. Since it would be impossible under modern conditions for Germany,\nwith or without Austrian co-operation, to invade both France and Russia,\nshe would be obliged to defend one frontier while crossing the other. An\nattack upon France would involve the traversing of a difficult stretch\nof country in which elaborate arrangements have been made for defence;\nand although the French army is not so strong as that of Germany, it\nwould have the enormous advantage of standing on the defensive. Even if\nGermany were to gain initial successes through her superior swiftness in\nmobilization, the difficulties of modern warfare are such that she could\nnot hope, even under abnormally favourable circumstances, to capture\nParis in less than two years, and long before then she would be reduced\nto a state of entire economic exhaustion. It is to be borne in mind that\nthe invading army would constantly grow weaker, while the defenders\nwould be able to enforce the superiority now belonging to defence by\nbringing up all their reserves.\n\nDifficulties which would be, if possible, even harder to surmount would\nattend a French attempt to invade Germany.\n\nThe elaborate plans that have been drawn up for an Austro-German\ninvasion of Russia would, in all probability, be doomed to failure. The\ndefensive system of Russian Poland is regarded as almost perfect. Even\nif the German and Austrian forces could evade the Polish defences, they\nwould waste their strength against the second Russian fortified line;\nand even if that were broken through, St. Petersburg and Moscow would\nstill be far distant, and Russia's immense resources in men would enable\nher to bring up body after body of reserves against the dwindling\ninvading force.\n\nA Russian invasion of Prussia would have to encounter an elaborately\nscientific defensive system, and would be liable to all the other\ndifficulties to which an invasion is exposed--particularly, in this\ncase, the difficulty of feeding a vast host of men on hostile territory.\nThe weakness of Austria's Galician frontier seems tempting; but Russia\nwould have to strike at Germany--an invasion of Austria which left\nGermany untouched would be mere waste of energy.\n\nThe general conclusion is that invasion of an enemy's country, in a\ngreat European struggle, would, in all probability, lead to the\ndestruction of the invaders and the entire exhaustion of both\ncombatants.\n\n\n_III.--Modern War at Sea_\n\nThe modern warship is a floating fortress equipped with complex\nmachinery, and the rivalry in naval invention has led to a terrible\nexpenditure upon which the powers have embarked in utter heedlessness of\nthe warnings of economists. So prodigious is the destructive power of\nmodern naval weapons that, in the opinion of most specialists, vessels\nwhich take part in great battles will issue from them damaged to such an\nextent that, during the rest of the war, they will not need to be taken\ninto account.\n\nIn war the strongest nation will be that which possesses the greatest\nnumber of arsenals and ready stores of ammunition, and coal at points\nselected in times of peace; and, in addition to these, a fleet in\nreserve, even a fleet of old type, but equipped with modern artillery.\nWith such a fleet it will be possible to strike deadly blows at the\nenemy when the fleets of the first line have been incapacitated.\n\nTo cruisers and torpedo-boats will be allotted the ferocious duty of\npursuing merchant ships, falling upon them at night, and sinking them,\nwith the object of cutting the communications and paralysing the trade\nof the enemy. The effect of naval wars on trade will in future be\nincomparably more disastrous than it has ever been before.\n\nCalculations show that England alone in a prolonged war could gain the\nmastery of the sea, forcing the other naval powers to give way\neverywhere. But the interruption of communications at sea would cause\nthe English such losses that a prolonged war would be impossible for\nthem.\n\nThus, in continuing to increase their fleets and to perfect their\narmaments at immense cost, the European powers are striving at aims\nundefined and unattainable. But the financial and social difficulties\nwhich yearly increase may result in such dangers that governments must\nbe compelled after immense sacrifices to do what it would be wiser to do\nto-day--namely, to abandon a fruitless competition.\n\nSuch is a brief picture of what Europe may expect from a future war. But\nover and above the direct sacrifices and material losses by slaughter,\nfire, hunger, and disease, a war will cause to humanity a great moral\nevil in consequence of the forms which a struggle on sea will assume,\nand of the examples of savagery which it will present at a moment when\nthe civil order will be threatened by new theories of social revolution.\n\nWhat wearisome labour will be needed to repair the losses, to cure the\nwounds which a war of a single year will cause! How many flourishing\ncountries will be turned into wildernesses and rich cities into ruins!\nHow many tears will be shed, how many will be left in beggary! How long\nwill it be before the voices of the best men, after such a terrible\nexample, will preach to humanity a higher principle than \"might is\nright\"?\n\n\n_IV.--The Warnings of the Economists_\n\nThe conditions of modern war are bound to be the cause of huge\nexpenditure. First of all, military stores must be drawn by every\ncountry from its own resources. Artillery, rifles, and ammunition are\nall far more costly than they used to be, and the amount of ammunition\nconsumed in a modern European campaign will be prodigious. The vastness\nof armies, and the deadliness of modern weapons, will add immensely to\nthe requirements of the sick and wounded. The demand for provisions must\nvastly increase, and the increase will be followed by a great rise in\nprices. That an immense army cannot exist on the resources of an enemy's\nterritory is plain, especially when the slowness of advance in a\nstruggle for fortified positions is taken into account. Communications\nby sea will be interrupted at the very outbreak of war. In this respect\nEngland is in incomparably the worst position.\n\nThere are serious reasons for doubting the proposition that a future war\nwould be short. Thanks to railways, the period of preparatory operations\nwould be considerably shortened; but in marches, manoeuvres, and\nbattles railways can be employed only in very rare cases, and as lines\nof operation they cannot serve.\n\nThe question naturally arises: Will it be possible to raise for war\npurposes revenues vastly exceeding the normal revenues of European\nstates? And what results must we expect from such extraordinary tension?\nA careful and thorough inquiry shows that no great power is economically\ncapable of bearing the strain of a great war. Russia has in this\nrespect an important advantage in that her workers, who are her\nfighters, are mostly agricultural; the members of their families can\ncontinue their labours when the summons to war is issued. But, on the\nother hand, the Russian rural population is extremely poor, and her\nresources would quickly be exhausted.\n\nAs for England, the interruption of maritime communications would affect\ndisastrously, if not fatally, the industries of the country and the\nfeeding of her population. England depends to so great an extent upon\nimported wheat that a war would threaten the whole population with\nfamine.\n\nThe very large industrial portion of the German community would be hit\nmost severely. The stoppage of work and the rise in prices would cause\nintense suffering and violent discontent.\n\nAlthough France survived the economic strain of the war of 1870, it does\nnot follow that she could endure the far greater strain of a campaign\nunder the new conditions. Her industrial population, like that of\nGermany, would be ruined, and the resulting misery might well lead to\nrevolution.\n\nA great European war, then, would bring about the economic prostration\nof every nation engaged in it, and would be a cause of violent danger to\nthe fabric of society.\n\nAnother problem of modern war remains to be considered--the condition\nand care of the wounded. Modern weapons of precision can not only kill\nor wound more accurately and at greater distances than the older\nweapons, but have more penetrative power. A rifle bullet of to-day will\npass through three or four bodies, shattering and splintering any bones\nit may encounter in its course. Hence wounds will be more numerous than\nthey have ever been; and, owing to the unwieldly size of armies and the\npoor physical condition of many of the men, sickness will be more common\nas well.\n\nNevertheless, the assistance of the wounded and sick will be much more\ndifficult than it has been in the past. While the fighting organisation\nof armies has been improved, their healing organisation has been\nneglected. It will, besides, be almost impossible to give aid to the\nwounded. Their removal will have to be conducted under fire, and both\nthe wounded man and his rescuer will run a constant risk of death. Many\nwounded will have to lie on the field, exposed to a hail of bullets and\nfragments of shells, until the end of the battle--and the battle may\nlast for days. This cannot but have an evil effect on the morale of an\narmy. If a soldier were convinced that he had a good chance of being\ntaken care of if wounded, he would fight with a better spirit than if he\nfeared that, if he fell, he would be left to prolonged hunger and agony.\n\nIt is evident that a vast difference exists between war as it has been\nin the past and war as it will be in the future. Wars formerly were\ncarried on by standing armies consisting mainly of long-service\nsoldiers. Armies in future wars will be composed mainly of soldiers\ntaken direct from peaceful occupations; many of the older ones will be\nheads of families torn from their homes, their families, and their work.\n\nThe economic life of whole peoples will stand still, communications will\nbe cut, and if war be prolonged over the greater part of a year, general\nbankruptcy, with famine and all its worst consequences, will ensue. It\nis to be expected, therefore, that popular discontent with militarism\nwill continue to grow. The immense expenditure on military aims, and the\nconsequent growth of taxation, are the favourite arguments of agitators,\nwho declare that the institutions of the Middle Ages were less\nburdensome than modern preparations for war.\n\nThe question is naturally asked: What will be given to the people after\nwar as compensation for their immense losses? The conquered certainly\nwill be too exhausted to pay any money indemnity, and compensation must\nbe taken by the retention of frontier territories, which will be so\nimpoverished by war that their acquisition will be a loss rather than a\ngain.\n\nWith such conditions, can we hope for good sense among millions of men\nwhen but a handful of their officers remain? Will the armies of Western\nEurope, where the socialist propaganda has already spread among the\nmasses, allow themselves to be disarmed; and, if not, must we not expect\neven greater disasters than those which marked the short-lived triumph\nof the Paris Commune? The longer the present position of affairs\ncontinues, the greater is the probability of such convulsions after the\nclose of a great war. Thus, with the growth of military burdens rise\nwaves of popular discontent, threatening a social revolution.\n\nSuch are the consequences of the armed peace of Europe--slow destruction\nin consequence of expenditure on preparations for war, or swift\ndestruction in the event of war--in both events convulsions in the\nsocial order.\n\n\n\n\nEDMUND BURKE\n\nReflections on the Revolution in France\n\n     Edmund Burke, born on Jan. 12, 1729, at Dublin, Ireland, was\n     educated at Trinity College there, and proceeded in 1750 to the\n     Middle Temple, London, but forsook law for the pursuit of\n     literature and politics. His earliest serious work was the essay on\n     \"The Sublime and Beautiful,\" published in 1756, of which the full\n     title is \"A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of\n     the Sublime and Beautiful.\" In 1761 he became private secretary to\n     Hamilton, the Secretary of Ireland, and four years later to the\n     Premier, the Marquis of Rockingham, when he also became M.P. for\n     Wendover, and, in 1774, for Bristol. He died on July 9, 1797.\n     Burke's magnificent treatise on the French Revolution, of which the\n     full title is \"Reflections on the Revolution in France, and on the\n     Proceedings of Certain Societies in London relative to that Event;\n     In a Letter Intended to Have Been Sent to a Gentleman in Paris,\"\n     was published in 1790, and was read all over Europe, powerfully\n     encouraging strenuous resistance to the Revolution. It is, perhaps,\n     in all literature, the noblest expression of all that is noble in\n     conservatism. His treatise is as profound in its penetration into\n     political principles as it is magnificent in conception and in\n     language. As Burke had stood for a true liberty in America, so he\n     took his stand against a false liberty in Europe. But history has\n     not justified him so completely in the latter case as in the\n     former. Revolutionism was not only, or chiefly, libertinism; and\n     the wonderful modern France has largely disappointed his\n     predictions.\n\n\n_I.--The Meaning of Freedom_\n\nDear Sir, You are pleased to call again, and with some earnestness, for\nmy thoughts on the late proceedings in France. You will see, sir, that\nthough I do most heartily wish that France may be animated by a spirit\nof rational liberty, it is my misfortune to entertain great doubts\nconcerning several material points in your late transactions. I love a\nmanly, moral, regulated liberty as well as anyone; but I cannot stand\nforward and give praise or blame to anything which relates to human\nactions and human concerns, on a simple view of the subject, as it\nstands stripped of every relation, in all the nakedness and solitude of\nmetaphysical abstraction.\n\nI should, therefore, suspend my congratulations on the new liberty of\nFrance until I was informed how it had been combined with government;\nwith public force; with the discipline and obedience of armies; with the\ncollection of an effective and well-distributed revenue; with morality\nand religion; with the solidity of property; with peace and order; with\ncivil and social manners.\n\nAll these, in their way, are good things, too; and, without them,\nliberty is not a benefit while it lasts, and is not likely to continue\nlong. The effect of liberty to individuals is that they may do what they\nplease; we ought to see what it will please them to do before we risk\ncongratulations. It appears to me as if I were in a great crisis, not of\nthe affairs of France alone, but of all Europe, perhaps of more than\nEurope.\n\nAll circumstances taken together, the French Revolution is the most\nastonishing that has hitherto happened in the world. Everything seems\nout of nature in this chaos of levity and ferocity, and of all sorts of\ncrimes jumbled together with all sorts of follies. In viewing this\nmonstrous tragi-comic scene, the most opposite passions succeed, and\nsometimes mix with each other in the mind; alternate contempt and\nindignation; laughter and tears; scorn and horror.\n\nYou will observe that from Magna Charta to the Declaration of Right it\nhas been the uniform policy of our constitution to claim and assert our\nliberties as an entailed inheritance derived to us from our forefathers\nand to be transmitted to our posterity.\n\nOur political system is placed in a just symmetry with the order of the\nworld; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, moulding\ntogether the great, mysterious incorporation of the human race, the\nwhole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, in a\ncondition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenor\nof perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression. We have given to\nour frame of polity the image of a relation in blood; binding up the\nconstitution of our country with our dearest domesticities; keeping\ninseparable, and cherishing with the warmth of all their combined and\nmutually reflected charities, our state, our hearths, our sepulchres,\nand our altars. Always acting as if in the presence of canonised\nforefathers, the spirit of freedom, leading in itself to misrule and\nexcess, is tempered with an awful gravity.\n\nAll your sophisters cannot produce anything better adapted to preserve a\nmanly freedom than the course that we have pursued, who have chosen our\nnature rather than our speculations for the great conservatories and\nmagazines of our rights and privileges.\n\n\n_II.--A Lost Opportunity_\n\nYou might, if you pleased, have profited of our example, and have given\nto your recovered freedom a correspondent dignity. You possessed in some\nparts the walls, and, in all, the foundations, of a noble and venerable\ncastle. You might have repaired those walls, you might have built on\nthose old foundations. But you began ill, because you began by despising\neverything that belonged to you. Respecting your forefathers, you would\nhave been taught to respect yourselves. By following wise examples you\nwould have shamed despotism from the earth by showing that freedom is\nnot only reconcilable, but auxiliary to law. You would have had a free\nconstitution. You would have had a protected, satisfied, laborious, and\nobedient people, taught to seek the happiness that is to be found by\nvirtue in all conditions; in which consists the true moral equality of\nmankind, and not in that monstrous fiction which, by inspiring false\nideas and vain expectations into men destined to travel in the obscure\nwalk of laborious life, serves only to aggravate and embitter that real\ninequality which it never can remove, and which the order of civil life\nestablishes as much for the benefit of those whom it must leave in an\nhumble state as those whom it is able to exalt to a condition more\nsplendid but not more happy.\n\nCompute your gains; see what is got by those extravagant and\npresumptuous speculations which have taught your leaders to despise all\ntheir predecessors and all their contemporaries, and even to despise\nthemselves, until the moment in which they became truly despicable. By\nfollowing those false lights, France has bought undisguised calamities\nat a higher price than any nation has purchased the most unequivocal\nblessings. She has abandoned her interest that she might prostitute her\nvirtue.\n\nAll other nations have begun the fabric of a new government, or the\nreformation of an old, by establishing, or by enforcing with greater\nexactness, some rites or other of religion. All other people have laid\nthe foundations of civil freedom in severer manners, and a system of a\nmore austere and masculine morality. France, when she let loose the\nreins of regal authority, doubled the license of a ferocious\ndissoluteness in manners, and of an insolent irreligion in opinions and\npractices; and has extended through all ranks of life, as if she were\ncommunicating some privilege, or laying open some secluded benefit, all\nthe unhappy corruptions that usually were the disease of wealth and\npower. This is one of the new principles of equality in France.\n\nFrance, by the perfidy of her leaders, has utterly disgraced the tone of\nlenient counsel in the cabinets of princes, and has taught kings to\ntremble at what will hereafter be called the delusive plausibilities of\nmoral politicians. Sovereigns will consider those who advise them to\nplace an unlimited confidence in their people as subverters of their\nthrones. This alone is an irreparable calamity to you and to mankind.\n\nThe French have rebelled against a mild and lawful monarch with more\nfury, outrage, and insult than ever any people has been known to rise\nagainst the most illegal usurper or the most sanguinary tyrant. Their\nresistance was made to concession; their revolt was from protection;\ntheir blow was aimed at a hand holding out graces, favours, and\nimmunities. They have found their punishment in their success. Laws\noverturned; tribunals subverted; industry without vigour; commerce\nexpiring; the revenue unpaid, yet the people impoverished; a Church\npillaged and a state unrelieved; everything human and divine sacrificed\nto the idol of public credit, and national bankruptcy the consequence.\n\n\n_III.--The Men in Power_\n\nThis unforced choice, this fond election of evil, would appear perfectly\nunaccountable if we did not consider the composition of the national\nassembly. If we were to know nothing of this assembly but its title and\nfunction, no colours could paint to the imagination anything more\nvenerable. But no artificial institution whatever can make the men of\nwhom any system of authority is composed any other than God, and nature,\nand education, and their habits of life have made them. Capacities\nbeyond these the people have not to give. Virtue and wisdom may be the\nobjects of their choice; but their choice confers neither the one nor\nthe other on those upon whom they lay their ordaining hands. They have\nnot the engagement of nature, they have not the promise of revelation,\nfor any such powers. Judge, sir, of my surprise when I found that a very\ngreat proportion of the assembly was composed of practitioners in the\nlaw. It was composed, not of distinguished magistrates, not of leading\nadvocates, not of renowned professors; the general composition was of\nobscure provincial advocates, of stewards of petty local jurisdictions,\ncountry attorneys, notaries, and the whole train of the ministers of\nmunicipal litigation, the fomenters and conductors of the petty war of\nvillage vexation.\n\nFrom the moment I read the list I saw distinctly, and very nearly as it\nhappened, all that was to follow. Who could but conceive that men who\nare habitually meddling, daring, subtle, active, of litigious\ndispositions and unquiet minds, would easily fall back into their old\ncondition of low and unprofitable chicane? Who could doubt but that, at\nany expense to the state, of which they understood nothing, they must\npursue their private interests, which they understood but too well? It\nwas inevitable; it was planted in the nature of things.\n\nOther revolutions have been conducted by persons who, whilst they\nattempted changes in the commonwealth, sanctified their ambition by\nadvancing the dignity of the people whose peace they troubled. Such was\nour Cromwell, one of the great bad men of the old stamp. Such were your\nwhole race of Guises, Condes, Colignys, and Richelieus. These men, among\nall their massacres, did not slay the _mind_ in their country. A\nconscious dignity, a noble pride, a generous sense of glory and\nemulation, was not extinguished. But your present confusion, like a\npalsy, has attacked the fountain of life itself. Every person in your\ncountry in a situation to be actuated by principles of honour is\ndisgraced and degraded. Property is destroyed, and rational liberty has\nno existence. If this be your actual situation, as compared to the\nsituation to which you were called, as it were by the voice of God and\nman, I cannot find it in my heart to congratulate you on the choice you\nhave made, or the success which has attended your endeavours.\n\nFar am I from denying in theory, full as far as my heart from\nwithholding in practice, the _real_ rights of man. Government is not\nmade in virtue of natural rights, which may and do exist in total\nindependence of it, and exist in much greater clearness, and in a much\ngreater degree of abstract perfection; but their abstract perfection is\ntheir practical defect. Government is a contrivance of human wisdom to\nprovide for human wants. Men have a right that these wants should be\nprovided for by this wisdom. Among these wants is to be reckoned the\nwant, out of civil society, of a sufficient restraint upon their\npassions. In this sense the restraints on men, as well as their\nliberties, are to be reckoned among their rights.\n\nBut as the liberties and the restrictions vary with times and\ncircumstances, and admit of infinite modifications, they cannot be\nsettled upon any abstract rule; and nothing is so foolish as to discuss\nthem upon that principle. The moment you abate anything from the full\nrights of men, each to govern himself, and suffer any artificial,\npositive limitation upon those rights, from that moment the whole\norganisation of government becomes a consideration of convenience. This\nit is which makes the constitution of a state, and the due distribution\nof powers, a matter of the most delicate and complicated skill.\n\nWhen I hear the simplicity of contrivance aimed at and boasted of in any\nnew political constitutions, I am at no loss to decide that the\nartificers are grossly ignorant of their trade, or negligent of their\nduty. The pretended rights of these theorists are all extremes, and in\nproportion as they are metaphysically true they are morally and\npolitically false. The rights of men are in a sort of _middle_,\nincapable of definition, but not impossible to be discerned. But this\nsort of people are so taken up with their theories about the rights of\nman that they have totally forgotten his nature. Without opening one new\navenue to the understanding, they have stopped up those that lead to the\nheart.\n\n\n_IV.--The Death of Chivalry_\n\nAs for the National Assembly, a majority, sometimes real, sometimes\npretended, captive itself, compels a captive king to issue as royal\nedicts, at third hand, the polluted nonsense of their most licentious\nand giddy coffee-houses. It is notorious that all their measures are\ndecided before they are debated. Amidst assassination, massacre, and\nconfiscation, perpetrated or meditated, they are forming plans for the\ngood order of future society. Who is it that admires, and from the heart\nis attached to, national representative assemblies, but must turn with\nhorror and disgust from such a profane burlesque and abominable\nperversion of that sacred institute? Miserable king, miserable assembly!\n\nHistory, who exercises her awful censure over the proceedings of all\nsorts of sovereigns, will not forget how the king, and his queen, and\ntheir infant children, who once would have been the pride and hope of a\ngreat and generous people, were forced to abandon the sanctuary of the\nmost splendid palace in the world, which they left polluted by massacre\nand strewn with mutilated carcases, and were made to taste, drop by\ndrop, more than the bitterness of death. Is this a triumph to be\nconsecrated at altars?\n\nI rejoice to hear that the great lady, an object of that triumph, has\nborne that day--one is interested that beings made for suffering should\nsuffer well--and that she bears the whole weight of her accumulated\nwrongs with a serene patience, in a manner suited to her rank and race;\nthat she feels with the dignity of a Roman matron; that in the last\nextremity she will save herself from the last disgrace; and that, if she\nmust fall, she will fall by no ignoble hand. It is now sixteen years\nsince I saw the Queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles, and\nsurely never lighted on this orb a more delightful vision. I saw her\nglittering like the morning star, full of life, and splendour, and joy.\nOh! what a revolution!\n\nLittle did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen\nupon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour, and\nof cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their\nscabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the\nage of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators\nhas succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never,\nnever more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that\nproud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the\nheart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an\nexalted freedom. It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that\nchastity of honour, which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired\ncourage whilst it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it\ntouched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil by losing all\nits grossness.\n\nIf the king and queen of France and their children were to fall into our\nhands by the chance of war, they would be treated with another sort of\ntriumphal entry into London. We formerly have had a king of France in\nthat situation; you have read how he was received in England. Four\nhundred years have gone over us; but I believe we are not materially\nchanged since that period. We have not lost the generosity and dignity\nof thinking of the fourteenth century; nor as yet have we subtilised\nourselves into savages.\n\nWe have not been drawn and trussed, in order that we may be filled, like\nstuffed birds in a museum, with chaff and rags and paltry blurred shreds\nof paper about the rights of man. We have real hearts of flesh and blood\nbeating in our bosoms. We fear God; we look up with awe to kings, with\naffection to parliaments, with duty to magistrates, with reverence to\npriests, and with respect to nobility. Why? Because when such ideas are\nbrought before our minds it is natural to be so affected; because all\nother feelings are false and spurious, and tend to corrupt our minds, to\nvitiate our primary morals, to render us unfit for rational liberty; and\nby teaching us a servile insolence, to be our low sport for a few\nholidays, to make us perfectly fit for, and justly deserving of, slavery\nthrough the whole course of our lives.\n\n\n_V.--Principles of Statesmanship_\n\nOne of the first principles on which the commonwealth and the laws are\nconsecrated is lest the temporary possessors and life-renters in it\nshould act as it they were the entire masters, hazarding to leave to\nthose who come after them a ruin instead of an habitation. By this\nunprincipled facility of changing the state as often, and in as many\nways as there are floating fancies or fashions, the whole continuity of\nthe commonwealth would be broken. Men would become little better than\nthe flies in summer.\n\nFirst of all, the science of jurisprudence, the pride of the human\nintellect, which, with all its defects, redundances, and errors, is the\ncollected reason of ages, combining the principles of original justice\nwith the infinite variety of human concerns, would be no longer studied.\nNo certain laws, establishing invariable grounds of hope and fear, would\nkeep the actions of men in a certain course.\n\nNo principles would be early worked into the habits. Who would ensure a\ntender and delicate sense of honour, to beat almost with the first\npulses of the heart, when no man could know what would be the test of\nhonour in a nation continually varying the standard of its coin? To\navoid, therefore, the evils of inconstancy and versatility, ten thousand\ntimes worse than those of obstinacy and the blindest prejudice, we have\nconsecrated the state, that no man should approach to look into its\ndefects or corruptions but with due caution; that he should never dream\nof beginning its reformation by its subversion; that he should approach\nto the faults of the state as to the wounds of a father, with pious awe\nand trembling solicitude. Society is indeed a contract. But it is not a\npartnership in things subservient only to the gross animal existence of\na temporary and perishable nature.\n\nIt is a partnership in all science; a partnership in all art, a\npartnership in every virtue and in all perfection. As the ends of such a\npartnership cannot be obtained in many generations, it becomes a\npartnership not only between those who are living, but between those who\nare living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born. Each\ncontract of each particular state is but a clause in the great primeval\ncontract of eternal society, linking the lower with the higher natures,\nconnecting the visible and invisible world, according to a fixed compact\nsanctioned by the inviolable oath which holds all physical and all moral\nnatures, each in their appointed place.\n\nThese, my dear sir, are, were, and, I think, long will be, the\nsentiments of not the least learned and reflecting part of this kingdom.\nThey conceive that He Who gave our nature to be perfected by our virtue\nwilled also the necessary means of its perfection. He willed, therefore,\nthe state--He willed its connection with the source and original\narchetype of all perfection. They who are convinced of His will, which\nis the law of laws, and the sovereign of sovereigns, cannot think it\nreprehensible that this, our corporate realty and homage, that this our\nrecognition of a signiory paramount--I had almost said this oblation of\nthe state itself--as a worthy offering on the high altar of universal\npraise, should be performed with modest splendour and unassuming state.\nFor those purposes they think some part of the wealth of the country is\nas usefully employed as it can be in fomenting the luxury of\nindividuals.\n\nIt is on some such principles that the majority of the people of\nEngland, far from thinking a religious national establishment unlawful,\nhardly think it lawful to be without one. The commons of Great Britain,\nin the national emergencies, will never seek their resource from the\nconfiscation of the estates of the church and poor. Sacrilege and\nproscription are not among the ways and means of our committee of\nsupply. There is not one public man in this kingdom, of any party or\ndescription, who does not reprobate the dishonest, perfidious, and cruel\nconfiscation which the national assembly have been compelled to make of\nthat property which it was their first duty to protect.\n\nBut to what end should we discuss all these things? How shall we discuss\nthe limitations of royal power? Your king is in prison. Why speculate on\nthe measure and standard of liberty? I doubt very much indeed whether\nFrance is at all ripe for liberty on any standard. Society cannot exist\nunless a controlling power upon will and appetite be placed somewhere,\nand the less of it there is within, the more there must be without. It\nis ordained in the eternal constitution of things that men of\nintemperate minds cannot be free. Their passions forge their fetters.\n\n\n\n\nAUGUSTE COMTE\n\nA Course of Positive Philosophy\n\n     Isidore Auguste Marie Francois Xavier Comte, the founder of the\n     Positive philosophy, was born at Montpellier, in France, Jan. 19,\n     1798. Entering the Ecole Polytechnique at Paris in his seventeenth\n     year, he showed mathematical talent, but was expelled for\n     insubordination. In 1818 he met St. Simon, and for six years he\n     remained under the influence of that philosopher; but in 1824 he\n     broke away and entered on an independent philosophical career. In\n     1826 he expounded to a distinguished audience his system of\n     Positive philosophy, but during the course had an attack of\n     insanity which lasted for a few months. Between 1830 and 1842 he\n     published his \"Cours de Philosophie Positive.\" From 1835 to 1845 he\n     acted as examiner at the Ecole Polytechnique, but after 1845 he was\n     supported by a \"subsidy\" from his admirers. Comte married in 1825,\n     but his marriage was not happy, and ended in a separation in 1842.\n     He died on September 5, 1857. His other important works are \"The\n     System of Positive Politics\" and the \"Positivist Catechism.\"\n\n\n_I.--Positive Classification of the Sciences_\n\nOn studying the development of human intelligence, it is found that it\npasses through three stages: (1) The theological, (2) the metaphysical,\n(3) the scientific or positive. In the theological stage it seeks to\naccount for the world by supernatural beings. In the metaphysical stage\nit seeks an explanation in abstract forces. In the scientific, or\npositive, stage it applies itself to the study of the relation of\nphenomena to each other.\n\nDifferent sciences have passed through these stages at different rates.\nAstronomy reached the positive stage first, then terrestrial physics,\nthen chemistry, then physiology, while sociology has not even yet\nreached it. To put social phenomena upon a positive basis is the main\nobject of this work; its secondary object is to show that all branches\nof knowledge spring from the same trunk. An integration of the sciences\non a positive basis should lead to the discovery of the laws which rule\nthe intellect in the investigation of facts, should regenerate science\nand reorganise society. At present the theological, the metaphysical,\nand the positive conflict, and cause intellectual disorder and\nconfusion.\n\nThe first step to be taken in forming a positive philosophy is to\nclassify the sciences. The first great division we notice in natural\nphenomena is the division into inorganic and organic phenomena. Under\nthe inorganic we may include the sciences astronomy, physics, chemistry;\nand under the organic we include the sciences physiology and sociology.\nThese five sciences, astronomy, physics, chemistry, physiology, and\nsociology, we may consider the five fundamental sciences. This\nclassification follows the order of the development of the sciences, and\nindicates their social relation and relative perfection. In order to\nreach effective knowledge, the sciences must be studied in the order\nnamed; sociology cannot be understood without knowledge of the anterior\nsciences.\n\nBehind and before all these sciences, however, lies the great science of\nmathematics--the most powerful instrument the mind can employ in the\ninvestigation of natural law--and the science of mathematics must be\ndivided into abstract mathematics or the calculus, and concrete\nmathematics embracing general geometry and rational mechanics. We have\nthus really six great sciences.\n\nMATHEMATICS. Mathematics may be defined briefly as the indirect\nmeasurement of magnitudes and the determination of magnitudes by each\nother. It is the business of concrete mathematics to discover the\n_equations_ of phenomena; it is the business of abstract mathematics to\neduce results from the equations. Thus concrete mathematics discovers by\nactual experiment the acceleration which takes place per second in a\nfalling body, and abstract mathematics educes results from the\nequations so discovered, and obtains unknown quantities from known.\n\nASTRONOMY. Astronomy may be defined as the science by which we discover\nthe laws of the geometrical and mechanical phenomena presented by\nheavenly bodies. To discover these laws we can use only our sense of\nsight and our reasoning power, and reasoning bears a greater proportion\nto observation here than in any other science. Sight alone would never\nteach us the figure of the earth or the path of a planet, and only by\nthe measurement of angles and computation of times can we discover\nastronomical laws. The observation of these invariable laws frees man\nfrom servitude to the theological and metaphysical conceptions of the\nuniverse.\n\nPHYSICS. Physics may be defined briefly as the study of the laws which\nregulate the general properties of bodies regarded _en masse_, their\nmolecules remaining unaltered and usually in a state of aggregation. In\nthe observations of physics all the senses are employed, and\nmathematical analysis and experiment assist observation. In the\nphenomena of astronomy human intervention was impossible; in the\nphenomena of physics man begins to modify natural phenomena.\n\nPhysics includes the subdivisions statics, dynamics, thermology,\nacoustics, optics, and electrology. Physics is still handicapped by\nmetaphysical conceptions of the primary causes of phenomena.\n\nCHEMISTRY. Chemistry may be briefly defined as the study of the laws of\nthe phenomena of composition and decomposition, which result from the\nmolecular and specific mutual action of different substances, natural or\nartificial. In the observations of chemistry the senses are still more\nemployed, and experiment is of still more utility. Even in chemistry\nmetaphysical conceptions, such as \"affinity,\" linger.\n\nPHYSIOLOGY. Physiology may be defined as the study of the laws of\norganic dynamics in relation to structure and environment. Placed in a\ngiven environment, a definite organism must always act in a definite\nway, and physiology investigates the reciprocal relations between\norganism, environment, and function. In physiology observation and\nexperiment are of the greatest value, and apparatus of all kinds is used\nto assist both observation and experiment. Physiology is most closely\nconnected with chemistry, since all the phenomena of life are associated\nwith compositions and decompositions of a chemical character.\n\n\n_II.--Social Physics_\n\nTo place social physics on a scientific basis is a task of great\ndifficulty, since social theories are still perverted by theological and\nmetaphysical doctrines. All I can hope to do is to point out general\nprinciples which may serve to correct the intellectual anarchy which is\nthe cause of the moral and political anarchy of the present day. I\npropose to state first how the institution of a science of social\nphysics bears upon the principal needs and grievances of society, so\nthat men worthy of the name of statesmen may realise that such labours\nare of real utility. So far, positive philosophy has worked timidly and\ntentatively, and has not been bold and broad and general enough to cope\nwith intellectual anarchy in social questions; but it is necessary now\nthat it play a more dominant part in life, and lead society out of the\nturmoil in which it has tossed for three centuries.\n\nAt present, society is distracted by two conflicting influences, which\nmay be called the theological polity and the metaphysical polity.\n\nThe theological polity at one time exercised a beneficent influence on\nsociety; but for three centuries past its influence has been essentially\nretrograde, and has gradually, but radically, decayed. The causes of its\ndecline are various; but the chief present-day antagonist to the\ntheological polity is the scientific spirit, and the scientific spirit\ncan now never be repressed.\n\nThe metaphysical polity is progressive, but progressive mainly in a\nnegative way. So far, it has made for progress; but it has made for\nprogress chiefly by removing impediments to progress, by destroying the\ntheological conceptions which retarded the development of human\nintelligence and human society. Though dangerous and revolutionary, it\nhas been necessary; for much required to be demolished to permit\npermanent reconstruction.\n\nThe metaphysical polity was required to combat the theological; but now\nit has served its destructive purpose, and tends to become obstructive,\nfor, having destroyed the old, it will not permit the new. Its chief\ndogma has always been liberty of conscience with the liberty of press\nand speech which that implies; but liberty of conscience really means\nlittle more than absence of intellectual regulation; and even as liberty\nof conscience is out of the question in astronomy and chemistry, so it\nis out of the question in social physics. Liberty of conscience and\ninquiry can only be temporary and transitional, and must be followed by\npositive decision on the part of those qualified to decide. It cannot be\nheld that every man is competent to form opinions in social and\npolitical questions; it cannot be maintained that intellects of weak\ncapacity can judge obscure and complex questions, and that all opinions\nare equally valuable. All society is based on faith in the opinion of\nothers and in reciprocal confidence. Continual discussion of the\nfoundations of society must render it impossible to lay sure foundations\nfirm, and the disorder produced by free opinions on all points by all\npeople is seen in the fierce and feeble sectarianism of Protestantism.\nWhat are the limits of free inquiry we shall see later; meantime, we may\nnote that fine motto of the Catholic Church: \"In necessary things,\nunity; in doubtful things, liberty; and in all things, charity.\"\n\nThe second dogma of the metaphysical polity is equality, and, like the\nother dogma, it must be considered the temporary expression of a\ntemporary need. It is indeed a corollary of the dogma of liberty of\nconscience; for to assume liberty of conscience without equality of\nintelligence would be to stultify the assumption. Having achieved its\npurpose, it also became an obstacle in the path of progress. Equality\nsufficient to permit a man to use his faculties aright is allowed by\nall; but men cannot be made equal physically, and much less can they be\nmade equal intellectually and morally.\n\nThe dogma of liberty of conscience and equality resulted naturally in a\nthird dogma, the sovereignty of the people. This also was provisionally\nuseful, in that it permitted a series of political experiments; but it\nis in essence revolutionary, condemning the superior to be ruled by the\ninferior. A fourth dogma, the dogma of national independence, has also\nbeen serviceable in separating the nations in preparation for a new\nunion.\n\nThe metaphysical polity fails utterly in constructive capacity. During\nthe first French revolution it successfully destroyed the old social\nsystem; but its attempts to reorganise society were retrogressive.\nInstead of Catholicism it proposed polytheism; and in the name of virtue\nand simplicity it condemned industry and art. Even science was condemned\nas aristocracy of knowledge. Nor can these blunders be considered\naccidental; they were inherent in the polity. It is evident that a\npolity that admits on the one hand the need for a theological\nfoundation, and on the other hand destroys the foundations of theology\nmust end in intellectual anarchy.\n\nSatisfied with neither the theological nor the metaphysical polities,\nsociety has wavered between them, and the one tendency has served\nchiefly to counteract the other. Out of these oscillations a third\nschool of political opinion, which we may call the \"stationary school,\"\nhas arisen.\n\nThis school would fix society in a contradictory position between\nretrogression and progress, such as is seen in the parliamentary\nmonarchy of England. This is a last phase of the metaphysical polity,\nand is only a kind of _placebo_.\n\nThe result of all this is to produce a most unfortunate position. The\ntheological polity would revert to old, worn-out principles; the\nmetaphysical polity has no definite principles at all; and the\nstationary school merely offers temporary compromises. Everywhere there\nis intellectual anarchy, and in Protestant countries the disorder is\nincreased by sectarian discord. So complex are all social questions that\nfew are able to see them steadily, and see them whole, and where\nindividual opinion is unhampered, individual prejudice and individual\nignorance must be rampant.\n\nIntellectual anarchy and unsettled convictions, moreover, tend to\npolitical corruption. If there are no convictions and no principles to\nwhich to appeal, appeal must be made to self-interest or to fear.\n\nA growing tendency to take a shortsighted and material view of political\nquestions is also a disturbing sign of the times. This is due to the\nfact that when, three centuries ago, spiritual power was abolished, all\nsocial questions were given over to men occupied with practical affairs\nand influenced chiefly by material considerations.\n\nMaterial views of political questions not only impede progress, but are\nalso dangerous to order, for the view that disorders have a material\ncause leads to constant interference with institutions and with\nproperty. Granted there are abuses in connection both with property and\ninstitutions, what is required is not material changes but general moral\nand intellectual reform.\n\nAn inadequate and material view of social physics naturally favours\nmediocrity, attracts political charlatans, while the most eminent minds\ndevote their attention to science.\n\nThe theological and metaphysical philosophies having failed, what\nremains? Nothing remains but the positive philosophy, which is the only\nagent able to reorganise society. The positive philosophy will regard\nsocial phenomena as it regards other phenomena, and will apply to the\nrenovation of society the same scientific spirit found effective in\nother departments of human knowledge. It will bring to politics the\nconception of natural laws, and deal with delicate social questions on\nimpartial scientific principles. It will show that certain wrongs are\ninevitable, and others curable; and that it is as foolish to try to cure\nthe incurable in social as in biological and chemical matters. A spirit\nof this kind will encourage reform, and yet obviate vain attempts to\nredress necessary evils.\n\nIt will thus make for intellectual order. It will likewise make for\nprogress and for true liberty by substituting genuine convictions\nfounded on scientific principles for constitutional artifices and the\nlaws of arbitrary wills; it will reconcile the antagonism of class\ninterests by moral and scientific considerations. Revolutionary\noutbursts there still will be, but they will merely clear the ground for\npositive reconstruction on a moral and intellectual basis.\n\nStrangely enough, the scientific class are not likely to assist in the\npositive reconstruction of society. They shrink from the irrational\nmethods of modern polities, and, further, they are so restricted in\ntheir narrow horizons that they are unable to grasp the wide\ngeneralisations of positive philosophy.\n\n\n_III.--Social Statics_\n\nThere can be no doubt that society originated in social instincts, and\nwas not merely the result of utilitarian considerations. Indeed, the\nsocial state could manifest its ability only when well developed, and in\nthe early ages of humanity the advantages to the individual of\nassociation would not be obvious.\n\nWhat, then, are the human instincts and requirements which give society\nits fundamental characters? In the first place, it must be noted that in\nman the intellectual is subordinate to the affective. In most men the\nintellectual faculties are easily fatigued, and require a strong and\nconstant stimulus to keep them at work. In the majority of cases the\nstimulus is derived from the needs of organic life; but in more highly\nendowed individuals the incitement may proceed from higher affective\nimpulses. This subordination of the intellectual to the affective\nfaculties is beneficent in that it gives a permanent end and aim to the\nintellectual activity.\n\nIn the second place it must be noted that the personal affections are\nstronger than the social affections, and that personal affections give\naim and direction to our social actions. This is necessary, for all\nideas of public good must be inferred from the ideas of private\nadvantage, and if it were possible to repress our personal affections,\nour social affections, deprived of necessary inspiration and direction,\nwould become vague and ineffective. In the precept that bids us love our\nneighbours as ourselves the personal instinct is suggested as the\npattern for the social. The only thing to be regretted is that the\npersonal affections are apt to override, instead of stimulating, the\nsocial affections.\n\nIncrease of intelligence must mean greater capacity for social\naffection, because of the discipline it imposes on the personal\naffections; and for the same reason increase of the social instinct is\nfavourable to intelligence. To strengthen this reciprocal action of the\nintellect and the social affections is the first task of universal\nmorals. And the double opposition between man's moral and material need\nof intellectual toil and his dislike of it, and again between man's\nmoral and material need of the social affections, and the subjection of\nthese to his personal instincts, discloses the scientific germ of the\nstruggle which we shall have to review, between the conservative and the\nreforming spirit; the first of which is animated by purely personal\ninstincts, and the other by the spontaneous combination of intellectual\nactivity with the various social instincts.\n\nSociety, however, cannot be regarded as composed of individuals. The\ntrue social unit is the _family_; it is essentially on the plan of the\nfamily that society is constructed. In a family the social and the\npersonal instincts are blended and reconciled; in a family, too, the\nprinciple of subordination and mutual co-operation is exemplified. The\ndomestic is the basis of all social life. The modern tendency,\ntherefore, to attack the institution of the family is an alarming\nsymptom of social disorganisation.\n\nThe sociological basis of the family depends on subordination of sexes\nand of ages.\n\nMarriage at once satisfies, disciplines, and harmonises the strongest\nand most disorderly instinct of our animal nature; and though it may be\nattacked by the revolutionary spirit because of its theological\nimplications, yet the institution is based on true principles, and must\nsurvive. No doubt marriage has been modified, but to modify is not to\noverthrow, and its fundamental principle remains intact.\n\nThe fundamental principle of the institution of marriage is the natural\nsubordination of the woman--a principle which has reappeared under all\nforms of marriage. Biology teaches that radical differences, physical\nand moral, distinguish the sexes, and sociology will prove that the\nmuch-advertised equality of sexes is a fiction, and that equality of the\nsexes would be incompatible with all social existence. Each sex has\nspecial functions it must perform in the family, and the necessary\nsubordination of one sex is in no wise injurious, since the happiness of\nevery being depends on the wise development of its proper nature.\n\nOur social system depends on intellectual activity under affective\nstimulus, and in power of mental labour the woman is incontestably\ninferior to the man, either because her mental powers are weaker, or\nbecause her lively moral and physical sensibility is unfavourable to\nmental concentration.\n\nBesides the bond of marriage, which holds together society, there is the\nbond between parents and children. Here again we find the principle of\nsubordination in force, and even as we find wild revolutionaries who\nchallenge the principle of subordination in women, so there are some who\nwould challenge the same principle in the case of children. Fortunately,\npopular good sense and the primary instincts resist such absurdities.\n\nThe spontaneous subordination in the human family is the best model for\nsociety. On the other hand, we see obedience and due subordination\nallied to gratitude, and unassociated with shame; and, on the other\nhand, we see absolute authority combined with affection and geniality.\nThere are those who would take children from their parents' care, and\nhand them over to society, and there are those who would prevent the\ntransmission of property from parents to children; but such\nextravagances need not be examined here.\n\nComing now to the consideration of society as constructed out of the\nfamily units, we see unity of aim associated with diversity of\nfunctions. It is a marvellous spectacle to see how in a society the\nindividuals pursuing each their own end yet unconsciously co-operate;\nand this co-operation is the mainspring of society. In the family,\nco-operation is much less marked; for the family is founded chiefly on\naffection, and in affection finds its justification, quite apart from\nco-operation towards any end. In society the instinct of co-operation\npreponderates, and the instinct of affection plays only a secondary\npart. There are exceptional men in whom the affective side of the social\ninstinct is dominant; but such men in most cases give their affection\nto the race at large simply from lack of domestic sympathy.\n\nThe principle of co-operation, spontaneous or concerted, is the basis of\nsociety, and the object of society must ever be to find the right place\nfor its individual members in its great co-operative scheme. There is,\nhowever, a danger of exaggerated specialism; it concentrates the\nattention of individuals on small parts of the social machine, and thus\nnarrows their sense of the social community, and produces an\nindifference to the larger interests of humanity. It is lamentable to\nfind an artisan spending his life making pin-heads, and it is equally\nlamentable to find a man with mind employing his mind only in the\nsolution of equations.\n\nTo guard against such social and intellectual disintegration must be the\nduty of government. It must foster the feeling of interconnection\nbetween individuals; and such a bond of feeling must be intellectual and\nmoral rather than material, and will always imply subordination. The\nsocial instinct of man spontaneously produces government, and there is a\nmuch stronger instinct of obedience in man than is commonly supposed.\nWho has not felt it good to resign the responsibility of conduct to wise\nand trustworthy guidance? Even in revolutionary times the people feel\nthe need of preponderant authority, and political subordination is as\ninevitable as it is indispensable.\n\n\n_IV.--Social Dynamics_\n\nHuman progress consists essentially in the evolution of the moral and\nintellectual qualities proper to man. Most of the occupations of\ncivilisation which deal with material things relieve man from material\ncares and discomforts, and permit him to use his higher faculties.\nDeath, too, may be considered a promoter of human progress. Youth is\nessentially progressive, age essentially conservative and opposed to\nprogress, and death it is that prevents old age from too seriously\nimpeding the progress of the world. If life were ten times as long,\nprogress would be greatly retarded. On the other hand, death interferes\nwith continuity of work, and by interrupting a man's work often delays\nits fruition. It is probable that if life were twice or thrice as long,\nprogress would be more rapid.\n\nHuman progress is directed by the reason, and the history of the\nprogress of society is largely the history of the human mind in its\nprogress through its three stages--the theological, metaphysical, and\npositive. The necessity of these stages can be shown.\n\nAt first man knows nothing but himself, and it was inevitable that he\nshould explain things as produced by a being like himself. The\ntheological philosophy gave a basis for observation by its hypotheses\nthat phenomena were products of actions like human acts, and that all\nbodies had life like human life, and that there was an invisible world\nwith invisible agents. These hypotheses were not only intellectually\nnecessary; they were also morally necessary, for they gave man\nconfidence to act, and hope that he could modify anything unsatisfactory\nin the universe by appeals to its maker. Not only did the theological\nphilosophy sustain man's courage, and kindle his hope, and increase his\nsense of power, but it gave an intellectual unanimity of great social\nand political value; and, producing a special speculative class, made\nthe first effective division between things of matter and things of\nmind. Except for the theological speculative class, man might have\nremained merely a superior monkey.\n\nStill, the theological philosophy was obviously only temporary, and\ncould not satisfy the needs of more highly developed intelligence, and\nit soon came into conflict with positive philosophy. Indeed, at all\ntimes there had been glimmerings of positive belief, for at all times\nthe simplest phenomena had been considered subject to natural laws, and\nall had been compelled to act in everyday affairs on the assumption of\nthe invariability of natural law. The positive philosophy, therefore,\nwas inevitable from the first, and its open antagonism to the\ntheological philosophy was merely a question of time.\n\nBetween the theological and positive philosophy naturally and\nnecessarily has intervened the metaphysical, which has substituted\nentities for a deity. This philosophy has never had the social power or\nthe consistency of the theological philosophy; its entities have been\nmere abstractions. It has and has had such political power simply\nbecause so elusive.\n\nMaterial progress has gone through similar stages. The primitive\ntendency of mankind was to a military life. At first the military life\nafforded man, apart from cannibalism, the easy means of making a living;\nand in no other school in these days could order have been taught, and\nin no other way could political consolidation be so quickly effected.\n\nNecessary as the military stage was, it was merely provisional, it must\nbe succeeded by the industrial stage. Meantime, we are in the\ntransitional stage between the two, for we have defensive instead of\noffensive military organisation, which is becoming more and more\nsubordinate to industrial production.\n\nThe military stage corresponded with the theological stage, belonged to\nthe same _regime_, had common antipathies and sympathies as well as\ngeneral interests, and could not have worked without the aid of\ntheological convictions to give blind confidence in military superiors.\nThe industrial stage corresponds with the positive stage; it is akin in\nspirit, in origin, and in destination. The transitional stage, again,\ncorresponds with the metaphysical stage. Only on these three dualisms\nwhich I have established can a sound historical philosophy be based.\n\n\n\n\nHENRY GEORGE\n\nProgress and Poverty\n\n     Henry George was born at Philadelphia on September 2, 1839. After\n     spending some years at sea, he reached California in 1858, became a\n     printer, and later a journalist and director of the public library\n     in San Francisco. In 1871 he published \"Our Land Policy,\" and this\n     was afterwards developed into \"Progress and Poverty: an Inquiry\n     into the Causes of Industrial Depressions, and of Increase of Want\n     with Increase of Wealth,\" issued in 1879. The book soon acquired a\n     world-wide reputation, not only from the eloquence and beauty of\n     its diction, but from the author's novel theory of land taxation.\n     In 1880 George removed to New York, published a book on the Irish\n     land question, and for some years afterwards undertook a succession\n     of missionary journeys to Great Britain, Australia, and New\n     Zealand, the result of which was the foundation of the English Land\n     Reform Union, the Scottish Land Restoration League, and the\n     legislative adoption by the different Australasian colonies of his\n     scheme of the taxation of land values. Among other economic works\n     he issued were \"Protection or Free Trade,\" \"The Condition of\n     Labour,\" and \"A Perplexed Philosopher.\" George died on October 29,\n     1897.\n\n\n_I.--Wages, Capital, and Wealth-Distribution_\n\nThe past century has been marked by a prodigious increase in\nwealth-producing power. It was naturally expected that labour-saving\ninventions would make real poverty a thing of the past. Disappointment,\nhowever, after disappointment has followed. Discovery upon discovery,\ninvention after invention, have neither lessened the toil of those who\nmost need respite nor brought plenty to the poor. The association of\npoverty with progress is the great enigma of our time.\n\nI propose to attempt to solve by the methods of political economy the\ngreat problem; to seek the law which associates poverty with progress\nand increases want with advancing wealth.\n\nThe inquiry is--why, in spite of increase in productive power, do wages\ntend to a minimum which will give but a bare living? The answer of\ncurrent political economy is that wages are fixed by the ratio between\nthe number of labourers and the amount of capital devoted to the\nemployment of labour, and constantly tend to the lowest amount on which\nlabourers will consent to live and reproduce; because the increase in\nthe number of labourers tends naturally to follow and overtake any\nincrease in capital. This argument is inconsistent with the general fact\nthat wages and interest do not rise inversely, but conjointly. My\nproposition is that wages, instead of being drawn from capital, are in\nreality drawn from the product of the labour for which they are paid.\n\nThe three agents or factors in production are land, labour and capital,\nand that part of the produce which goes to the second of these factors\nis wages. Land embraces all natural materials, forces, and\nopportunities, and therefore nothing that is freely supplied by nature\ncan be properly classed as capital. Labour includes all human exertion,\nand hence human powers, whether natural or acquired, can never be\nproperly classed as capital.\n\nWe exclude from the category of capital everything which must be\nincluded either as land or labour, and therefore capital consists of\nthose things which are neither land nor labour, but which have resulted\nfrom the union of these two original factors of production. Nothing can\nbe capital which is not wealth; only such things can be wealth the\nproduction of which increases, the destruction of which decreases, the\naggregate of wealth. Increase in land values does not represent any\nincrease in the common wealth, for what landowners gain by higher prices\nthe tenants or purchasers will lose.\n\nAll wealth is not capital. Capital is only that part of wealth which is\ndevoted to the aid of production. It is wealth in the course of\nexchange, for production includes not merely the making of things, but\nthe bringing of them to the consumer. Wherever we analyse the facts we\nfind that without production wages would not, and could not, be. As the\nrendering of labour precedes the payment of wages, and as the rendering\nof labour in production implies the creation of value, the employer\nreceives value before he pays out value--he but exchanges capital of one\nform for capital of another form. Hence the payment of wages in\nproduction never involves the advance of capital or ever temporarily\nlessens capital.\n\nNor is it true that the maintenance of labour is drawn from capital, and\nthat therefore population regulates itself by the funds which are to\nemploy it, for that would involve the idea that labour cannot be exerted\nuntil the products of labour are saved, thus putting the product before\nthe producer, which is absurd. Capital, therefore, does not limit\nindustry, the only limit to industry being the access to natural\nmaterial. Capital may limit the form of industry, and the productiveness\nof industry, by limiting the use of tools and the division of labour.\nThe functions of capital are to assist labour in production with tools,\nseeds, etc., and with the wealth required to carry on exchanges. All\nremedies, whether proposed by professors of political economy or working\nmen, which look to the alleviation of poverty either by the increase of\ncapital, or the restriction of the number of labourers, or the\nefficiency of their work, must be condemned.\n\nThe argument that wages are determined by the ratio between capital and\nlabour finds its strongest support in the Malthusian doctrine, and on\nboth is based the theory that past a certain point the application of\ncapital and labour yields a diminishing return. The Malthusian doctrine\nis that the tendency to increase in the number of labourers must always\ntend to reduce wages to the minimum on which labourers can reproduce.\nWhen this theory is subjected to the test of straightforward analysis,\nit is utterly untenable. In the first place, the facts marshalled in\nsupport of it do not prove it, and the analogies drawn from the animal\nand vegetable world do not countenance it; and, in the second place,\nthere are facts which conclusively disprove it.\n\nThere are on every hand the most striking and conclusive evidences that\nthe production and consumption of wealth have increased with even\ngreater rapidity than the increase of population, and that if any class\nobtains less than its due share, it is solely because of the greater\ninequality of distribution. The denser the population, the more minute\nbecomes the subdivision of labour, the greater economies of production\nand distribution, and hence, the very reverse of the Malthusian doctrine\nis true.\n\n\n_II.--The Law of Wages_\n\nTo discover the cause which, as population increases, and the productive\narts advance, deepens the poverty of the lowest class, we must find the\nlaw which determines what part of the produce is distributed to labour\nas wages, what part to capital as interest, and what part to landowners\nas rent.\n\nRent is the price of monopoly arising from the reduction to individual\nownership of natural elements which human exertion can neither produce\nnor increase. Interest is not properly a payment made for the use of\ncapital. It springs from the power of increase which the reproductive\nforces of nature and the (in effect) analogous capacity for exchange\ngive to capital. The principle that men will seek to gratify their\ndesires with the least exertion operates to establish an equilibrium\nbetween wages and interest.\n\nThis relation fixed, it is evident that interest cannot be increased\nwithout increasing wages nor wages lowered without depressing interest.\nThe law of interest is that the relation between wages and interest is\ndetermined by the average power of increase which attaches to capital\nfrom its use in its reproductive modes. The law of wages is that they\ndepend upon the margin of production, or upon the produce which labour\ncan obtain at the highest point of natural productiveness open to it\nwithout the payment of rent. This law of wages accords with and explains\nuniversal facts, and shows that where land is free, and labour is\nunassisted by capital, the whole produce will go to labour as wages.\nWhere land is free, and labour is assisted by capital, wages will\nconsist of the whole produce, less that part necessary to induce the\nstoring up of labour as capital. Where land is subject to ownership and\nrent arises, wages will be fixed by what labour can secure from the\nhighest natural opportunities open to it without the payment of rent.\nWhere natural opportunities are all monopolised, wages must be forced by\nthe competition among labourers to the minimum at which labourers will\nconsent to reproduce. Nothing can be clearer than the proposition that\nthe failure of wages to increase with increasing productive power is due\nto the increase of rent.\n\nThe value of land depending wholly upon the power which its ownership\ngives of appropriating wealth created by labour, the increase of land\nvalues is always at the expense of the value of labour. And, hence, that\nthe increase of productive power does not increase wages is because it\ndoes increase the value of land. It is the universal fact that where the\nvalue of the land is highest civilisation exhibits the greatest luxury\nside by side with the most piteous destitution.\n\nThe changes which constitute or contribute to material progress are\nthree: increase in population, improvement in the arts of production and\nexchange, and improvement in knowledge, government, and morals. The\neffect of increase of population upon the distribution of wealth is to\nincrease rent, and consequently to diminish the proportion of the\nproduce which goes to capital and labour in two ways. First, by\nlowering the margin of cultivation; and second, and more important, by\nbringing out in land special capabilities otherwise latent, and by\nattaching special capabilities to particular land. The effect of\ninventions and improvements in the productive arts, including division\nof labour between individuals, is to save labour--that is, to enable the\nsame result to be secured with less labour, or a greater result with the\nsame labour, and hence to the production of wealth.\n\nWithout any increase in population, the progress of invention constantly\ntends to give a larger and larger proportion of the produce to the\nowners of land, and a smaller proportion to labour and capital; and,\ntherefore, to decrease wages and interest. And, as we can assign no\nlimit to the progress of invention, neither can we assign any limits to\nthe increase of rent short of the whole produce. Another cause of the\ninfluence of material progress upon the distribution of wealth is the\nconfident expectation of the future enhancement of land values which\narises in all progressive countries from the steady increase of rent.\nThis leads to speculation, or the holding of land for a higher price\nthan it would otherwise bring. It is a force which constantly tends to\nincrease rent in a greater ratio than progress increases production, and\ntends to reduce wages, not merely relatively but absolutely.\n\n\n_III.--The Common Right to Land_\n\nThe fact that the speculative advance in land values cuts down the\nearnings of labour and capital, and checks production, leads\nirresistibly to the conclusion that this is the main cause of those\nperiodical industrial depressions to which every civilised country seems\nincreasingly liable.\n\nRobbed of all the benefits of the increase of productive power, labour\nis exposed to certain effects of advancing civilisation which, without\nthe advantages that naturally accompany them, are positive evils, and of\nthemselves tend to reduce the free labourer to the helpless and degraded\ncondition of the slave. As land is necessary to the exertion of labour\nin the production of wealth, to command the land is to command all the\nfruits of labour save enough to enable labour to exist. But there is\nalso an active, energetic power--a power that in every country, be its\npolitical form what it may, writes laws and moulds thought--the power of\na vast and dominant pecuniary interest. The great cause in the\ninequality of the distribution of wealth is the inequality in the\nownership of land. The ownership of land is the great fundamental fact\nwhich ultimately determines the social and political, and consequently,\nthe intellectual and moral condition of a people. The tendencies and\nmeasures at present relied on or advocated as calculated to relieve\npoverty and distress among the masses are insufficient. The true remedy\nis to substitute for individual the common ownership of land.\n\nAs man belongs to himself, so his labour when put in concrete form\nbelongs to him. As nature gives only to labour, the exertion of labour\nin production is the only title to exclusive possession. When\nnon-producers can claim as rent a portion of the wealth created by\nproducers, the right of the producers to the fruits of their labour is\nto that extent denied.\n\nThe equal right of all men to the use of land is as clear as their equal\nright to breathe the air--it is a right proclaimed by the fact of their\nexistence. The right of individual proprietorship of land is the denial\nof the natural rights of other individuals--it is a wrong which must\nshow itself in the inequitable division of wealth. Again, the ownership\nof land will always give the ownership of men, to a degree measured by\nthe necessity, real or artificial, for the use of land. And when that\nnecessity is absolute, when starvation is the alternative to the use of\nland, then does the ownership of men involved in the ownership of land\nbecome absolute. Private ownership of land is the nether millstone.\nMaterial progress is the upper millstone. Between them, with an\nincreasing pressure, the working classes are being ground. Historically,\nas ethically, private property in land is robbery. It has everywhere had\nits birth in war and conquest, and in the selfish use which the cunning\nhave made of superstition and law.\n\n\n_IV.--The Remedy for Social Ills_\n\nPrivate property in land is inconsistent with the best use of land. What\nis necessary for that is security for improvements. Where land is\ntreated as public property it will be used and improved as soon as there\nis need for its use and improvement, but, being treated as private\nproperty, the individual owner is permitted to prevent others from\nusing, or improving, what he cannot, or will not, use or improve\nhimself. I do not propose to purchase or to confiscate private property\nin land. The first would be needless, the second unjust. It is only\nnecessary to confiscate rent.\n\nThe sovereign remedy which will raise wages, increase the earnings of\ncapital, extirpate pauperism, abolish poverty, give remunerative\nemployment to whoever wishes it, afford free scope to human powers,\nlessen crime, elevate morals and taste and intelligence, purify\ngovernment, and carry civilisation to yet nobler heights, is to\nappropriate rent by taxation, and to abolish all taxation save that upon\nland values. The great class of taxes from which revenue may be derived\nwithout interference with production are those upon monopolies,\ntemporary or onerous. But all other monopolies are trivial in extent as\ncompared with the monopoly of land. Taxes on the value of land not only\ndo not check production but tend to increase it by destroying\nspeculative rent.\n\nThe whole value of land may be taken in taxation, and the only effect\nwill be to stimulate industry, to open new opportunities to capital, and\nto increase the production of wealth. A tax on land values does not add\nto prices, and is thus paid directly by the persons on whom it falls.\nLand is not a thing of human production, and taxes upon rent cannot\ncheck supply. On the contrary, by compelling those who hold land on\nspeculation to sell or let for what they can get, a tax on land values\ntends to increase the competition between owners, and thus to reduce the\nprice of land.\n\nA tax on land values, while the least arbitrary of taxes, possesses in\nthe highest degree the element of certainty. It may be assessed and\ncollected with a definiteness that partakes of the immovable and\nunconcealable character of the land itself. It is the most just and\nequal of all taxes, because it falls only on those who receive from\nsociety a peculiar and valuable benefit, and upon them in proportion to\nthe benefit they receive. The division of land now held on speculation\nwould much increase the number of landowners. A single tax on the value\nof land would so equalise the distribution of wealth as to raise even\nthe poorest above that abject poverty in which public considerations\nhave no weight, while it would at the same time cut down those overgrown\nfortunes which raise their possessors above concern in government.\n\n\n_V.--Effects of the Remedy_\n\nThe effects of the remedy would be to lift the whole enormous weight of\ntaxation from productive industry. It would open new opportunities, for\nno one would care to hold land unless to use it, and land now withheld\nfrom use would everywhere be thrown open to improvement. The selling\nprice of not merely agricultural, but all land, would fall. The bonus\nthat wherever labour is most productive must not be paid before labour\ncan be exerted would disappear. Competition in the labour market would\nno longer be one-sided. Rent, instead of causing inequality, would\npromote equality. Labour and capital would receive the whole produce,\nminus that portion taken by the state in the taxation of land values,\nwhich, being applied to public purposes, would be equally distributed in\npublic benefits. The equalisation in the distribution of wealth would\nreact upon production, everywhere preventing waste, everywhere\nincreasing power.\n\nSimplicity in the legislative and executive functions of government\nwould become possible. It would at the same time and in the same degree\nbecome possible for it to realise the dream of socialism, not through\ngovernmental repression, but because government would become the\nadministration of a great co-operative society, merely the agency by\nwhich the common property was administered for the common benefit. Give\nlabour a free field and its full earnings, take for the benefit of the\nwhole community that fund which the growth of the community creates, and\nwant, and the fear of want, would be gone.\n\nIf the conclusions at which we have arrived are correct, they will fall\nunder a larger generalisation. However man may have originated, man, as\nman, no matter how low in the scale of humanity, has never yet been\nfound destitute of the power of improvement. Everywhere and at all times\nhe has made some use of this power. The varying degrees in which the\nfaculty is used cannot be ascribed to differences in original capacity.\nThese are evidently connected with social development. A survey of\nhistory shows diversities in improvement, halts, and retrogression; and\nthe law which will explain all these is that men tend to progress just\nas they come closer together, and by co-operation with each other,\nincrease the mental power that may be devoted to improvement.\n\nBut just as conflict is provoked, or association develops inequality of\ncondition and power, this tendency to progression is lessened, checked,\nand finally reversed. As society develops there arise tendencies which\ncheck development. The process of integration, of the specialisation of\nfunctions and powers, is accompanied by a constant liability to\ninequality, and to lodge collective power and wealth in the hands of a\nfew, which tends to produce greater inequality, since aggression grows\non what it feeds.\n\nThe reform I have proposed accords with all that is politically,\nsocially, or morally desirable. It has the qualities of a true reform,\nfor it will make all other reforms easier.\n\nBehind the problems of social life lies the problem of individual life.\nProperly understood, the laws which govern the production and\ndistribution of wealth show that the want and injustice of the present\nsocial state are not necessary, but that, on the contrary, a social\nstate is possible in which poverty is unknown, and all the better\nqualities and higher powers of human nature would have opportunity for\nfull development. Further than this, when we see that social development\nis governed neither by a special providence, nor by a merciless fate,\nbut by law at once unchangeable and beneficent, a flood of light breaks\nin upon the problem of individual life. If we look merely at individual\nlife we cannot see that the laws of the universe have the slightest\nrelation to good or bad, to right or wrong, to just or unjust. By a\nfundamental law of our minds we cannot conceive of a means without an\nend. But unless man himself may rise to, or bring forth something\nhigher, his existence is unintelligible. For it is as certain that the\nrace must die as it is that the individual must die. What, then, is the\nmeaning of life absolutely and inevitably bounded by death? To me it\nonly seems intelligible as the avenue and vestibule to another life.\n\n\n\n\nTHOMAS HOBBES\n\nThe Leviathan\n\n     Thomas Hobbes was born at Malmesbury, Wiltshire, England, April 5,\n     1588, and died at Hardwick Dec. 4, 1679. When comparatively a young\n     man he was secretary to Francis Bacon. He spent many years abroad,\n     met Galileo, and corresponded with Descartes. But he did not begin\n     to produce until in advanced middle age. \"Leviathan, or the Matter,\n     Form, and Power of a Commonwealth, Ecclesiastical and Civil,\"\n     appeared in 1651. His special impulse to the construction of a\n     science of politics came from the Great Rebellion, his detestation\n     of the principles on which it was based, and his dissatisfaction\n     with the theory of \"divine right\" as a bafis for the absolutism\n     which he counted a necessity. The \"Leviathan\" is the commonwealth,\n     or state, conceived as an \"artificial man,\" and this gives the\n     title to this famous work. But this essay towards a science of\n     politics was only a fragment of that complete and all-inclusive\n     structure which he contemplated. Although in this sense only a\n     fragment, it has largely influenced all political theorising since\n     his day: and it contains the most definite enunciation of the\n     doctrine of the social contract, which took so different and so\n     revolutionary a shape in the hands of Rousseau.\n\n\n_I.--Of Man_\n\nNature, the art whereby God hath made and governs the world, is by the\nart of man so imitated that he can make an artificial animal. For by art\nis created that great leviathan called a commonwealth or state, which is\nbut an artificial man; in which the sovereignty is an artificial soul,\nas giving life and motion; the magistrates and other officers the\njoints; reward and punishment the nerves; concord, health; discord,\nsickness; lastly, the pacts or covenants by which the parts were first\nset together resemble the \"fiat\" of God at the Creation.\n\nTo describe this artificial man, I will consider: First, the matter and\nthe artificer, both which is man; secondly, how it is made; thirdly,\nwhat is a Christian commonwealth; lastly, what is the kingdom of\ndarkness.\n\nAnd first, of man. The thoughts of man are, singly, every one a\nrepresentation of some quality or accident of a body without us, called\nan object. There is no conception in the mind which has not first been\nbegotten upon the organs of sense. The cause of sense is the eternal\nobject which presseth upon the proper organ; not that, as hath been\ntaught in the schools, the thing, \"sendeth forth a visible or audible\nspecies.\"\n\nImagination is the continuity of an image after the object is removed.\nWhen we would express that the image is decaying, we call it memory; in\nsleep, we call it dreams. A train of thought is the succession in the\nmind of images which have succeeded each other in experience.\n\nOf all inventions the most notable is that of speech, names, the\nregister of thoughts; which are notes for remembrance, or signs, for\ntransference. Truth consisteth in the right ordering of names in our\naffirmations. Words are wise men's counters, but the money of fools.\n\nReasoning is the reckoning, the addition and subtraction of the\nsequences of words, the sum being the conclusion. Which conclusions may\nbe absurd, because men do not start--except in geometry--from the\ndefinitions of the words. Reason, therefore, implies speech.\n\nIn animals there are two sorts of motions--vital and voluntary. The\nbeginnings of motion within man are called \"endeavour.\" Appetite is a\nmotion towards; aversion a motion fromwards. Some are born in us, some\nare products of experience. The object of a man's appetite he calls\n\"good\"; of his aversion, \"evil\"; whether in promise (beautiful and\nugly), in effect (pleasant, painful), or as means (useful, hurtful).\nPleasures and pains arise from an object present, of the senses; or in\nexpectation, of the mind. Thus \"pity\" is the imagining of a like\ncalamity befalling oneself.\n\n\"Deliberation\" is the sum of the successive appetites or aversions\nwhich are concluded by the doing or not doing of the particular thing.\n\"Will\" is the last appetite in deliberating. So, in the inquiry of the\ntruth, opinions correspond to appetites, and the final judgment, the\nlast opinion, to the will.\n\nThere are two kinds of knowledge; of \"fact,\" and of \"the consequence of\none affirmation to another.\" The former is nothing else but sense and\nmemory, and is absolute; the latter is called science, and is\nconditional. The register of the first is called history, natural or\ncivil; that of the second is contained in books of philosophy, in\ncorresponding groups--natural philosophy, and civil philosophy, or\npolitics. Natural philosophy breaks up into a number of groups,\nincluding mental and moral science.\n\nPower is present means, whencesoever derived, to attain some future\napparent good. Value is the price that will be given for the use of a\nman's power. To honour a man is to acknowledge his power; to dishonour\nhim is to depreciate it. The public worth of a man is the value set on\nhim by the commonwealth.\n\nBy manners, I mean those qualities of mankind which are concerned with\ntheir living together in peace and unity. Desire of power tends to\nproduce strife; other desires, as for ease, or for knowledge, incline\nmen to obey a common power. To receive benefits, or to do injuries,\ngreater than can be repaid or expiated, tends to make us hate the\nbenefactor or the injured party.\n\n\n_II.--Of Contract and Sovereignty_\n\nNature hath made men so equal, in the faculties of body and mind that\nare born in them, that one man cannot in respect of these claim to\nhimself any benefit to which another may not pretend. From this equality\nariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. Therefore, if\ntwo men desire the same thing which they cannot both enjoy they become\nenemies, and seek each the destruction of the other, each mistrusting\nthe other. So men invade each other, first for gain, second for safety,\nand third for reputation.\n\nHence, while men live without a common power to keep them all in awe,\nthey are in a state of war, every man against every man. In this state,\nnotions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have no place.\nProbably there never was actually such a universal condition; but we see\nit now among savage races and in the mutual relations of sovereigns. In\nthis state of war, reason suggesteth articles of peace upon which men\nmay agree; which articles are otherwise called the laws of nature.\n\nThe \"right of nature\" is the right of self-preservation. \"Liberty\" is\nthe absence of impediments to the exercise of power. A \"law of nature\"\nis a precept of reason forbidding a man to do what is destructive of his\nown life. In the state of nature every man has a \"right\" to everything.\nThus security comes only of the first fundamental law: \"To seek peace\nand follow it,\" and \"by all means we can to defend ourselves.\"\n\nThe second law follows: \"To lay down the right to everything, claiming\nonly so much against others as we concede to others against ourselves.\"\nThis right being renounced or transferred, injustice is the revocation\nof that act. But since the object of a voluntary act is good to oneself,\nsuch renunciation is not valid if not good for oneself; hence a man\ncannot renounce the right of self-preservation.\n\nThe transferring of right, if not mutual, is free gift; if mutual, it is\ncontract. When this is not simultaneous there is a covenant or pact. The\ncovenant can become void only through some new fact arising after it was\nmade. A covenant not to defend oneself against force by force is void\n_per se_.\n\nThe third law is: \"That men perform their covenants made,\" without\nwhich covenants are vain, and the state of war continues. The definition\nof injustice is \"the not-performance of a covenant.\" No covenant is\nvalid until there exists some power that can enforce the performance of\nit by penalties; that is, until there is a commonwealth. What is done to\na man conformable to his own will signified to the doer is no injury to\nhim.\n\nThe fourth law is that of \"gratitude\"; that a man receiving a free gift\nendeavour that the giver may not suffer thereby. A fifth is\n\"complaisance\"--that every man strive to accommodate himself to the\nrest. Others are pardon on repentance, and non-vindictiveness of\npunishment; and the common enjoyment--or, failing that, distribution by\nlot--of what cannot be equally divided. Observance of these laws is\nvirtue.\n\nPersons are either natural and actual, or fictitious and artificial,\n_i.e._, representing someone else, or even something else: as a church,\na hospital, a bridge. When the representative has authority from the\nrepresented, we call the former the \"actor,\" and the latter the\n\"author.\" One person may artificially represent a multitude.\n\nNow, men being in the state of nature may agree together; but there is\nno security, unless there be a power to enforce the covenant. Such a\npower can be created only if they agree together to confer all their own\npower on one man or one assembly; so that all the acts of such person or\nassembly have authority as from each one of them, and each one of them\nsubmits his individual will to that of such person or assembly. The\nmultitude so united in one person is a commonwealth. This is the\ngeneration of that leviathan or mortal god to which, under the Immortal\nGod, we owe our peace and defence.\n\nHe that carrieth this person is called \"sovereign,\" and everyone beside\nis his \"subject.\" This sovereign power may be attained either by natural\nforce, \"acquisition,\" or by voluntary transference, \"institution.\" And\nfirst of a commonwealth by institution.\n\nThey that have instituted a commonwealth by covenant cannot make a new\ncovenant contrary thereto without permission of the sovereign, since\nthis is a breaking of their covenant with each other. On his part there\nis no covenant, so that breach of covenant by him cannot be pleaded as\nwarranting abrogation of the covenant made. The sovereign cannot do the\nsubjects injustice because, since he has their authority, what he does\nto them is done by their own will; so also they cannot punish him.\n\nSince the sovereign was instituted for peace and defence, he controls\nthe means to war and peace, and judges of opinions as conducing to peace\nor endangering it. He prescribes the rules of property, since in the\nstate of nature there is no property; he has the right of judicature; of\nmaking war and peace with other commonwealths; of choosing all\ncounsellors in peace and war; of rewarding and punishing, according to\nthe law he has made, and of bestowing honour. Nay, if he grants away any\nof these powers the grant is null.\n\nThe sovereignty may be in one man, or in a limited assembly, or in an\nassembly of all--monarchy, aristocracy, democracy; these three forms\nonly, though when they are misliked they are called other names. In any\ncase, the power of the sovereign is absolute, whether a monarch or an\nassembly. He is the representative of the commonwealth, not deputies who\nmay be chosen to tender petitions.\n\nThe three forms differ not in the power of the sovereign, but in their\nadvantageousness. In monarchy, the private interest of the sovereign\nmust coincide with that of the commonwealth as a whole; much more so\nthan in aristocracy or democracy. An assembly cannot receive counsel\nsecretly; a monarchy has the benefit of a single will instead of\nconflicting wills. There is no government by a mixture of the types,\n_e.g._, an elective \"king\" is not sovereign, but a minister; and within\nhis province a Roman pro-consul was an absolute monarch. Men submit\nthemselves to an instituted sovereign, for fear of each other; to an\nacquired sovereignty, for fear of the sovereign. Acquired sovereignty or\ndominion is either by generation (paternal) or by conquest. A family,\nhowever, does not amount to a commonwealth, unless it be so great that\nit may not be subdued but by war. Acquired sovereignty is absolute, for\nthe same reasons as instituted sovereignty.\n\n\n_III.--The Natural Commonwealth_\n\nLiberty is absence of impediments to motion. It is consistent with fear,\nalso with necessity; for a voluntary act is yet necessary as having a\ncause which is a link in a chain of causes up to the First Cause, which\nis God. But men have created artificial impediments or bonds called\nlaws. The liberty of the subject lies only in such things as the\nsovereign has pretermitted, for he hath power to regulate all, even life\nand death, at his own will. The liberty praised in Rome and Athens was\nthe liberty of the commonwealth as against other commonwealths.\n\nThe subject has liberty to disobey the sovereign's command if it\ncontravene the law that the right of self-preservation cannot be\nabrogated, unless it be to endanger himself for the preservation of the\ncommonwealth, as with soldiers. The subjects' obligation of obedience\nlasts so long as the sovereign's power of defending them, that being the\npurpose of his being made sovereign. By systems I mean numbers of men\njoined in one interest. These are political, constituted by law; and\nprivate, permitted or forbidden by law. All, except a commonwealth, are\nsubordinate to the commonwealth, and have not the character of\nsovereignty. The rights of governing bodies are only those expressly\nconceded by law, either generally or to them specifically. Systems in\nthe commonwealth correspond to muscles in the natural body.\n\nThe nourishment of the commonwealth is its commodities or products, the\ndistribution of which must be lit the will of the sovereign, whether of\nland or of commodities, exchanged internally or trafficked abroad. The\nprocreation, or children, of a commonwealth are its \"plantations,\" or\n\"colonies,\" which may either be commonwealths themselves, as children\nemancipated, or remain parts of the commonwealth.\n\nBy civil laws I mean those laws that men are bound to obey as members of\nany commonwealth. The sovereign is the sole legislator, and is not\nsubject to the laws which he can repeal at pleasure. The civil laws are\nthe laws of nature expressed as commands of the commonwealth, or the\nwill of the sovereign so expressed; whatever is not the law of nature\nmust be expressly made known and published. Both the law of nature and\nwritten law require interpretation, which is by sentence of the judge\nconstituted by sovereign authority.\n\nAn intention of breaking the law is a sin; issuing in a breach of the\nlaw it is crime. Violation of the laws of nature is always and\neverywhere sin; it is crime only when a violation of the laws of a\ncommonwealth. Unavoidable ignorance of a law is a complete excuse for\nbreaking it, but ignorance due to lack of diligence is not unavoidable.\nTerror of present death, or the order of the sovereign, are a complete\nexcuse. And many circumstances may serve as extenuation.\n\nA punishment is an evil inflicted by public authority on him that hath\ndone or omitted that which is said to be by the same authority a\ntransgression of the law, to the end that the will of men may thereby be\nthe better disposed to obedience. Now, this right of punishment is not\ntransferred by the subjects to the sovereign since they cannot\nsurrender their right of self-defence against violence. But as all\nbefore had the natural right of hurting others, that right is left by\nthe covenant to the sovereign alone, strengthened by the resignation\nthereof by the rest.\n\nPunishments inflicted by man are \"corporal,\" or \"pecuniary,\" or\n\"ignominy,\" or \"imprisonment,\" or \"exile,\" or mixed of these. Corporal\nare capital, with or without torment, and less than capital. Pecuniary\nincludes deprivation not only of money, but also of lands or other\nsalable goods; but such deprivation, if it is by way of compensation to\nthe person injured, is not really punishment. Imprisonment, when it is\nonly for the custody of a person accused, is not punishment. Exile is\nnot so much a punishment as a command or permission to escape\npunishment, except when accompanied by deprivation of goods.\n\nInfirmities of a commonwealth arise--from the first institution, when\nthe sovereign has not assumed sufficient power; from such doctrines as\nthat each man privately is the judge of good or evil actions, or sins if\nhe obey the commonwealth against his \"conscience\"; that the sovereign is\nsubject to the civil laws; that private property excludes sovereign\nrights; that sovereign power may be divided, which is the worst of all;\nand from other causes, as of money grudged for wars, monopolies,\nover-potent subjects or corporations, insatiable desire of dominion. But\nwhen a country is conquered, that is the dissolution of the\ncommonwealth.\n\nOf the sovereign's duties the first is to surrender none of his powers,\nand the second to see that they be known, to which end, and the\nunderstanding of it, the people must be rightly instructed. Further,\nthat he administer justice equally to all people, and impose equal\ntaxes, and make good laws (I say good, not just, since no law can be\nunjust), and choose good counsellors.\n\nSubjects owe simple obedience to the sovereign in all things\nwhatsoever, except what is contrary to the laws of God. Therefore, it\nremains here to speak of the kingdom of God, Whose subjects are they\nthat believe in Him. God declareth His laws either by natural reason, or\nby revelation, or by the voice of prophets. He is necessarily sovereign,\nfor the one reason that He is omnipotent.\n\n\n_IV.--Of a Christian Commonwealth and the Kingdom of Darkness_\n\nOf God speaking by the voice of a prophet are two signs: that the\nprophet worketh miracles, and that he teacheth no other religion than\nthat established. These two must go together. And since miracles have\nceased, it is clear that God no longer speaks by prophets. But He hath\nrevealed Himself in Scripture--that is, in those books which are in the\ncanon ordained. But whether their authority be derived from the civil\nsovereignty or is of a universal church to which all sovereigns are\nsubordinate is another question. It may be seen, however, from Scripture\nthat the kingdom of God therein spoken of is a civil kingdom, for the\nrestoration whereof we pray daily, which is that kingdom of God by\nChrist which was interrupted by the revolt of the Israelites and the\nelection of Saul.\n\nA church is a term used in many senses, but in one only can it be\ntreated as a person having power to will, command, or do any action\nwhatever. And according to this sense I define a church to be \"a company\nof men professing Christian religion, united in the person of one\nsovereign, at whose command they ought to assemble, and without whose\nauthority they ought not to assemble.\" It follows that a church that is\nassembled in any commonwealth that hath forbidden them to assemble is an\nunlawful assembly. There are Christians in the dominions of several\nprinces and states; but every one of them is subject to that\ncommonwealth of which he is himself a member, and consequently cannot be\nsubject to the commands of any other person. There is therefore no such\nuniversal church as all are bound to obey.\n\nThe original covenant with Abraham gave him the sole right, which is the\ninheritance of every sovereign, to punish any subject who should pretend\nto a private vision for the countenancing of any doctrine which Abraham\nshould forbid. This covenant established that kingdom of God which was\ninterrupted by the secular kingdom of Saul. The coming of Christ was to\nrestore that kingdom by a new covenant; which kingdom was to be in\nanother world after the Resurrection. The power ecclesiastical was left\nby Him to the apostles, but this is manifestly not a coercive power on\nearth, as Christ's own power on earth was not.\n\nChrist, therefore, by His coming did not withdraw any of the power from\ncivil sovereigns, and if they do commit the government of their subjects\nin matter of religion to the Pope, he holdeth that charge not as being\nabove the civil sovereign, but by his authority. But as for disagreement\nbetween the laws of God and the civil laws of the sovereign, the laws of\nGod, which must in no wise be disobeyed, are those which are necessary\nto salvation; and these are summed up in the will to obey the law of God\nand the belief that Jesus is the Christ. But the private man may not set\nup to judge whether the ordinance of the sovereign be against the law of\nGod, or whether the doctrine which he imposeth consist with the belief\nthat Jesus is the Christ.\n\nBut in the Scripture there is mention also of another power, the kingdom\nof Satan, \"the prince of the powers of the air,\" which is a \"confederacy\nof deceivers that, to obtain dominion over men in this present world,\nendeavours by dark and erroneous doctrines to extinguish in them the\nlight both of nature and of the Gospel, and so to disprepare them for\nthe kingdom of God to come.\" And such darkness is wrought first by\nabusing the light of the Scriptures so that we know them not; secondly\nby introducing the demonology of the heathen poets; thirdly, by mixing\nwith the Scripture divers relics of the religion and much of the vain\nand erroneous philosophy of the Greeks, especially of Aristotle; and,\nfourthly, by mingling with these false or uncertain traditions and\nfeigned or uncertain history.\n\n\n\n\nNICCOLO MACHIAVELLI\n\nThe Prince\n\n     Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli was born at Florence, in Italy,\n     May 3, 1469, and died June 22, 1527. At any early age he took an\n     active part in Florentine politics, and was employed on numerous\n     diplomatic missions. A keen student of the politics of his time, he\n     was also an ardent patriot. The exigencies of party warfare drove\n     him into temporary retirement, during which he produced a number of\n     brilliant plays and historical studies; but the most notable of his\n     achievements is \"The Prince.\" \"The Prince\" may be regarded as the\n     first modern work treating of politics as a science. The one\n     question to which the author devotes himself is: How a prince may\n     establish and maintain the strongest possible government. Moral\n     principles, therefore, must yield entirely to the dictates of pure\n     expediency. It follows that the ruler who acts on the doctrines\n     laid down will pay no respect to right and wrong as such. Hence the\n     book has been mercilessly condemned. It was written probably about\n     1514, and not published till 1532.\n\n\n_I.--Of Princedoms Won by Merit_\n\nAll states and governments are either republics or princedoms.\nPrincedoms are either hereditary or new. Hereditary states are\nmaintained with far less difficulty than new states, but in new\nprincedoms difficulties abound.\n\nAnd first if the princedom be joined on to ancient dominions of the\nprince, so as to form a mixed princedom, rebellion is a danger; for men\nare always ready to change masters. When a state rebels and is again got\nunder it will not afterwards be lost so easily; for the prince will use\nthe rebellion as a pretext to make himself more secure.\n\nSuch new states when they are of the same province and tongue as the\nancient dominions of the prince are easily retained. It is enough to\nhave rooted out the line of the reigning prince. But where the language\nand usages differ the difficulty is multiplied. One expedient is for the\nprince himself to dwell in the new state, as the Turk has done in\nGreece. Another is to send colonies into one or two places which may\nbecome keys to the province; for the cost of troops is far greater. In\nsuch provinces, moreover, the prince should always make himself the\nprotector of his weaker neighbours, without adding to their strength;\nbut should humble the great, and never suffer a formidable stranger to\nacquire influence, as was the rule with the Romans. Whereas King Louis\nof France has in Italy done the direct opposite in every single respect.\nIn especial we may draw from the French king's actions the general\naxiom, which never or rarely errs, that \"he who is the cause of\nanother's greatness is himself undone.\"\n\nNow, all princedoms are governed in one or two ways: either by a sole\nprince served by ministers, or by a prince with barons who hold their\nrank not by favour but by right of descent. The Turk is an example of\nthe first, the French king of the second. A state of the first kind is\ndifficult to win, but when won is easily held, since the prince's family\nmay be easily rooted out; but in such a state as France you may gain an\nentry, but to hold your ground afterwards is difficult, since you cannot\nroot out the barons.\n\nHence we need not wonder at the ease wherewith Alexander was able to lay\na firm hold on Asia, albeit he died before he had well entered on\npossession; since the dominion of Darius was of the same character as\nthat of the Turk.\n\nWhen the newly acquired state has hitherto lived under its own laws and\nin freedom there are three ways of holding it. The first is to destroy\nit; the second to reside in it; the third to leave it under its own\nlaws, choosing for its governors from the inhabitants such as will be\nfriendly to you. But the safest course is either to destroy it or to go\nand live in it.\n\nWhere the prince himself is new, either merit or good fortune is\nimplied, and if we consider the most excellent examples, such as Moses,\nCyrus, Romulus, and the like, we shall see that they owed to fortune\nnothing beyond the opportunity which they seized. Those who, like these,\ncome to the princedom by virtuous paths acquire with difficulty, but\nkeep with ease. Their difficulties arise because they are of necessity\ninnovators. If, then, they have force of their own to employ they seldom\nfail. Hence it comes that all armed prophets have been victorious and\nall unarmed prophets have been destroyed; as was the case with\nSavonarola.\n\n\n_II.--Of Princedoms Won Otherwise than by Merit_\n\nThose who rise to princedom by mere good fortune have much trouble to\nmaintain themselves; some lack both the knowledge and the power to do\nso. Yet even if such a one be of great parts, he may lose what he has\nwon, like Cesare Borgia.\n\nIt was impossible for the duke to aggrandise himself unless the states\nof Italy were thrown into confusion so that he might safely make himself\nmaster of some part of them. This was made easy for him as concerned\nRomagna by the conduct of the French and Venetians. The next step was to\nweaken the factions of the Orsini and the Colonnesi. Having scattered\nthe Colonnesi, the Orsini were so won over as to be drawn in their\nsimplicity into his hands at Sinigaglia. Having thus disposed of the\nleaders, he set about ingratiating himself with the population of\nRomagna and Urbino. He first set over the country a stern ruler to\nrestore order. This end being accomplished, that stern but unpopular\nruler was beheaded.\n\nNext, as a new pope might be dangerous, he set himself to exterminate\nthe kindred of those lords whom he had despoiled of their possessions,\nto win over the Roman nobility, and to secure a majority among the\ncardinals. But before the duke had completely consolidated his power his\nfather, Pope Alexander VI., died. Even so, the skill with which he had\nlaid the foundations of his power must have resulted in success had he\nnot himself been almost at death's door at that critical moment. The one\nmistake he made was in the choice of the new pope, Julius II., and this\nerror was the cause of his ultimate downfall.\n\nA man may rise, however, to a princedom by paths of wickedness and\ncrime; that is, not precisely by either merit or fortune. We may take as\nexample first Agathocles the Sicilian. To slaughter fellow citizens, to\nbetray friends, to be devoid of honour, pity, and religion cannot be\ncounted as merit. But the achievements of Agathocles can certainly not\nbe ascribed to fortune. We cannot, therefore, attribute either to\nfortune or to merit what he accomplished without either. For a modern\ninstance we may consider Oliverotto of Fermo, who seized upon that town\nby a piece of monstrous treachery and merciless butchery; yet he\nestablished himself so firmly and so formidably that he could not have\nbeen unseated had he not let himself be over-reached by Cesare Borgia.\n\nOur lesson from these examples is that on seizing a state the usurper\nshould make haste to inflict what injuries he must at one stroke, and\nafterwards win men over by benefits.\n\nNext is the case of those who are made princes by the favour of their\ncountrymen, which they owe to what may be termed a fortunate astuteness.\nIf he be established by the favour of the people, to secure them against\nthe oppression of the nobles his position is stronger than if he owe it\nto the nobles; but in either case it is the people whom he must\nconciliate, and this I affirm in spite of the old saw, \"He who builds\non the people builds on mire.\"\n\nA prince who cannot get together an army fit to take the field against\nany assailant should keep his city strongly fortified, taking no heed of\nthe country outside, for then he will not be readily attacked, and if he\nbe it will be difficult to maintain a siege longer than it may be\nresisted.\n\nMerit, or good fortune, are needed to acquire ecclesiastical princedoms,\nbut not to maintain them, for they are upheld by the authority of\nreligion. It is due to the policy of the Popes Alexander VI. and Julius\nII. that the temporal power of the pope has become so great; and from\nhis holiness Pope Leo we may hope that as his predecessors made the\npapacy great with arms he will render it still greater and more\nvenerable by his benignity and other countless virtues.\n\n\n_III.--Of Maintaining a Princedom_\n\nA prince must defend his state with either his own subjects or\nmercenaries, or auxiliaries. Mercenaries are utterly untrustworthy; if\ntheir captain be not an able man the prince will probably be ruined,\nwhereas if he be an able man he will be seeking a goal of his own. This\nhas been perpetually exemplified among the cities and states of Italy\nwhich have sought to maintain themselves by taking foreigners into their\npay.\n\nBut he who would deprive himself of every chance of success should have\nrecourse to auxiliaries; that is, to the troops of a foreign potentate.\nFor these are far more dangerous than mercenary arms, bringing ruin with\nthem ready made. The better such troops are the more dangerous they are.\nFrom Hiero of Syracuse to Cesare Borgia, princes have become powerful in\nproportion as they could dispense with such aid and place their\ndependence upon national troops.\n\nA prince, then, who would be powerful should have no care or thought\nbut for war, lest he lose his dominions If he be ignorant of military\naffairs he can neither be respected by the soldiers nor trust them.\nTherefore, he must both practise and study this art. For the practise,\nthe chase in many respects provides an excellent training both in\nknowledge of the country and in vigour of the body. As to study, a\nprince should read histories, note the actions of great men, and examine\nthe causes of their victories and defeats; seeking to imitate those who\nhave been renowned.\n\nAnyone who would act up to a perfect standard of goodness in everything\nmust be ruined among so many who are not good. It is essential therefore\nfor a prince to have learnt how to be other than good, and to use, or\nnot to use, his goodness as necessity requires.\n\nIt may be a good thing to be reputed liberal, but liberality without the\nreputation of it is hurtful. Display necessitates the imposition of\ntaxes, whereby the prince becomes hateful; whereas through parsimony his\nrevenue will be sufficient. Hence we have seen no princes accomplish\ngreat results save those who have been accounted miserly.\n\nEvery prince should desire to be accounted merciful, not cruel; but a\nnew prince cannot escape a name for cruelty, for he who quells disorder\nby a few signal examples will, in the end, be the more merciful.\n\nMen are less careful how they offend him who makes himself loved than\nhim who makes himself feared; yet should a prince inspire fear in such a\nfashion that, if he do not win love, he may escape hate; remembering\nthat men will sooner forget the slaying of their father than the loss of\ntheir patrimony.\n\nPrinces who set little store by their word, but have known how to\noverreach men by their cunning, have accomplished great things, and in\nthe end got the better of those who trusted to honest dealing. The\nprince must be a lion, but he must also know how to play the fox. He\nwho wishes to deceive will never fail to find willing dupes. The prince,\nin short, ought not to quit good courses if he can help it, but should\nknow how to follow evil courses if he must.\n\nA prince must avoid being despised as well as being hated; therefore\ncourage, wisdom, and strength must be apparent in all his actions.\nAgainst such a one conspiracy is difficult. That prince is wise who\ndevolves on others those matters that entail responsibility, and may\ntherefore make him odious either to the nobles or to the commons, but\nreserves to himself the matters that relate to grace and favour.\n\nWhat I have said is not contradicted by the history of the Roman\nemperors; for they had to choose between satisfying the soldiers and\nsatisfying the people. It was imperative that at any cost they should\nmaintain control of the soldiery, which scarce any of them could do\nwithout injustice to the people. If we examine their histories in detail\nwe shall find that they fully bear out the principles I have laid down.\n\nBut in our time the standing armies of princes have not the same power\nas the armies of the Roman empire, and except under the Turk and the\nSoldan it is more needful to satisfy the people than the soldiery.\n\n\n_IV.--Of Artifices_\n\nA new prince will never disarm his subjects, but will rather arm them,\nat least in part. For thus they become his partisans, whereas without\nthem he must depend on mercenaries.\n\nBut a prince who adds a new state to his old possessions should disarm\nits inhabitants, relying on the soldiers of his own ancient dominions.\nSome have fostered feuds among their new subjects in order to keep them\nweak, but such a policy rarely proves useful in the end. The prince who\nacquires a new state will gain more strength by winning over and\ntrusting those who were at first opposed to him than by relying on those\nwho were at first his friends. The prince who is more afraid of his\nsubjects than of strangers ought to build fortresses, while he who is\nmore afraid of strangers than of his subjects should leave them alone.\nOn the whole, the best fortress you can have is in not being hated by\nyour subjects.\n\nNothing makes a prince so well thought of as to undertake great\nenterprises and give striking proofs of his capacity. Ferdinand of\nAragon, in our own time, has become the foremost king in Christendom. If\nyou consider his achievements, you will find them all great and some\nextraordinary. First he made war on Grenada, and this was the foundation\nof his power. Under the cloak of religion, with what may be called pious\ncruelty, he cleared his kingdom of the Moors; under the same pretext he\nmade war on Africa, invaded Italy, and finally attacked France; while\nhis subjects, occupied with these great actions, had neither time nor\nopportunity to oppose them.\n\nThe prince whose ministers are at once capable and faithful may always\nbe accounted wise, since he must be one who can discern the merits and\ndemerits of his servant. For which discernment this unfailing rule may\nbe laid down: When you see a minister thinking more of himself than of\nyou, and in all his actions seeking his own ends, that man can never be\na minister you can trust. To retain a good minister the prince will bind\nhim to himself by benefits. Above all, he will avoid being deceived by\nflatterers, and while he consults his counsellors should reflect and\njudge for himself. A prince who is not wise himself cannot be well\nadvised by others.\n\nThe Italian princes who in our own times have lost their dominions have\neither been deficient in respect of arms, or have had the people against\nthem, or have not known how to secure themselves against the nobles. As\nto the influence of fortune, it may be the case that she is the mistress\nof one half of our actions, but leaves the control of the other half to\nourselves. That prince will prosper most whose mode of acting best\nadapts itself to the character of the times; so that at one time a\ncautious temperament, and at another an impetuous temperament, will be\nthe more successful.\n\nNow, at this time the whole land of Italy is without a head, without\norder, beaten, spoiled, torn in pieces, overrun, and abandoned to\ndestruction in every shape. She prays God to send someone to rescue her\nfrom these barbarous cruelties; she is eager to follow anyone who could\nundertake the part of a deliverer; nor does this seem too hard a task\nfor you, the Magnificent Lorenzo of the illustrious house of Medici. The\ncause is just; we have before us unexampled proofs of Divine favour.\nEverything has concurred to promote your greatness. What remains to be\ndone must be done by you, for God will not do everything Himself.\n\n\n\n\nT.R. MALTHUS\n\nOn the Principle of Population\n\n     Thomas Robert Malthus was born near Dorking, Surrey, England, Feb.\n     17, 1766, and after passing through the University of Cambridge was\n     ordained, and travelled on the Continent. His great work, \"An Essay\n     on the Principle of Population as it Affects the Future Improvement\n     of Society,\" was first published Anonymously in 1798, and five\n     years later it appeared, under the title of \"An Essay on the\n     Principle of Population, or a View of its Past and Present Effect\n     on Human Happiness, with an Enquiry into our Prospects Respecting\n     the Future Removal or Mitigation of the Evils which it Occasions,\"\n     under the author's name. Malthus is one of the most persistently\n     misrepresented of great thinkers, his central doctrine being\n     nothing less moral than that young men should postpone marriage\n     until they have the means of supporting a family. It is of the\n     first interest in the history of thought that the reading of this\n     great essay of Malthus should have independently suggested, first\n     to Charles Darwin, and later to Alfred Russel Wallace, the idea of\n     natural selection as a necessary consequence of that struggle for\n     life so splendidly demonstrated by Malthus in the case of mankind.\n     It is to be wondered that Malthus, having provided himself with the\n     key to the great problem of organic evolution, should have left its\n     use to others. One explanation is, doubtless, that his survey was\n     not comparative, covering the whole range of life, but was\n     practically confined to one living form. Malthus died on December\n     23, 1834.\n\n\n_I.--General Survey of the Checks to Population_\n\nSince population is capable of doubling itself at least once in every\ntwenty-five years, and since the supply of food can increase in only\narithmetical ratio, it follows that increase of population must always\nbe checked by lack of food. But, except in cases of famine, this check\nis never operative, and the chief checks to increase of population are\nmoral restraint, vice, and misery.\n\nIn spite of these checks, which are always more or less in operation,\nthere is a constant tendency for the population to increase beyond the\nmeans of subsistence. Such increase is followed by lowered wages, dearer\nfood, and thus a lowered marriage-rate and birth-rate; and the lowered\nwages, in turn, induce more agricultural enterprise, and thus means of\nsubsistence become more abundant again.\n\nMore abundant and cheaper food, in turn, promotes marriage, and\nincreases the population, until again there is a shortage of food; and\nthis oscillation, though irregular, will always be found, and there will\nalways be a tendency for the population to oscillate around the food\nlimit.\n\nEven among savages, where the degradation of women, infanticide, vice,\nfamine, war, and disease are active instruments of decimation, it will\nbe found that the average population, generally speaking, presses hard\nagainst the limits of the average food.\n\nAmong modern pastoral nations the principal checks which keep the\npopulation down to the level of the means of subsistence are: restraint\nfrom inability to obtain a wife, vicious habits with respect to women,\nepidemics, war, famine, and the diseases arising from extreme poverty.\n\nIn modern Europe we find similar preventive and positive checks, in\nvarying proportions, to undue increase of population. In England and\nScotland the preventive check to population prevails in a considerable\ndegree.\n\nA man of liberal education, with an income only just sufficient to\nenable him to associate in the rank of gentlemen, must feel absolutely\ncertain that if he marry and have a family he shall be obliged to give\nup all his former connections. The woman whom a man of education would\nnaturally choose is one brought up in similar refined surroundings. Can\na man easily consent to place the object of his affections on a lower\nsocial plane?\n\nSuch considerations certainly prevent many of the better classes from\nearly marriage; and those who marry in the face of such considerations\ntoo frequently justify the forebodings of the prudent.\n\nThe sons of tradesmen and farmers are exhorted not to marry till they\nhave a sufficient sure income to support a family, and often accordingly\npostpone marriage till they are far advanced in life. The labourer who\nearns eighteenpence or two shillings a day, as a single man, will\nhesitate to divide that pittance among four or five, seeing the risks\nsuch poverty involves. The servants who live in the families of the rich\nhave yet stronger inducements to forego matrimony. They live in\ncomparative comfort and luxury, which as married men they could not\nenjoy.\n\nThe prolific power of nature is very far from being called fully into\naction in Great Britain. And yet, when we contemplate the insufficiency\nof the price of labour to maintain a large family, and the amount of\nmortality which arises directly and indirectly from poverty, and add to\nthis the crowds of children prematurely cut off in large towns, we shall\nbe compelled to acknowledge that, if the number born annually were not\ngreatly thinned by this premature mortality, the funds for the\nmaintenance of labour must increase with much greater rapidity than they\nhave ever hitherto done in order to find work and food for the\nadditional numbers that would then grow up to manhood.\n\nThose, therefore, who live single, or marry late, do not by such conduct\ncontribute in any degree to diminish the actual population, but merely\nto diminish the proportion of premature mortality, which would otherwise\nbe excessive; and consequently, from this point of view, do not seem to\ndeserve any very severe reprobation or punishment.\n\nIt has been usual to consider a great proportion of births as the surest\nsign of a vigorous and flourishing state. But this is erroneous. Only\nafter great mortality, or under very especial social conditions, is a\nlarge proportion of births a favourable symptom. In the average state of\na well-peopled territory there cannot be a worse sign than a large\nproportion of births, nor a better sign than a small proportion. A small\nproportion of births is a decided proof of a very small mortality, since\nthe supply always equals the demand for population. In despotic,\nmiserable, or naturally unhealthy countries, the proportion of births to\nthe whole population will generally be found very great.\n\nIn Scotland emigration is a potent cause of depopulation, but any\nthinning out from this cause is quickly neutralised by an increased\nproportion of births.\n\nIn Ireland the details of population fluctuations are little known; but\nthe cheapness of potatoes, and the ignorance and depressed, indifferent\nstate of the people, have encouraged marriage to such a degree that the\npopulation is pushed much beyond the resources of the country, and the\nconsequence, naturally, is that the lower classes of the people are in\nthe most impoverished and miserable state. The checks to the population\nare, of course, chiefly of the positive kind, and arise from the\ndiseases caused by squalid poverty. To these positive checks have of\nlate years been added the vice and misery of civil war, and of martial\nlaw.\n\n\n_II.--Population and the Subsistence Level_\n\nThat the checks which have been mentioned are the immediate causes of\nthe slow increase of population, and that these checks result\nprincipally from an insufficiency of subsistence will be evident from\nthe comparative rapid increase which has invariably taken place\nwhenever, by some sudden enlargement in the means of subsistence, these\nchecks have been in any considerable degree removed. Plenty of rich land\nto be had for little or nothing is so powerful a cause of population as\ngenerally to overcome all obstacles. The abundance of cheap and\nprofitable land obtained by the colonists in English North America\nresulted in a rapid increase of population almost without parallel in\nhistory. Such an increase does not occur in Britain, and the reason to\nbe assigned is want of food. Want of food is certainly the most\nefficient of the three immediate checks to population. Population soon\nincreases after war and disease and convulsions of nature, because the\nfood supply is more than adequate for the diminished numbers; but where\nfood is deficient no increase of population can occur.\n\nSince the world began the causes of population and depopulation have\nbeen probably as constant as any of the laws of nature with which we are\nacquainted.\n\nThe passion between the sexes has appeared in every age to be so nearly\nthe same that it may always be considered in algebraic language as a\ngiven quantity. The great law of necessity, which prevents population\nfrom increasing in any country beyond the food which it can either\nproduce or acquire, is a law so obvious and evident to our\nunderstandings that we cannot doubt it. The different modes which nature\ntakes to repress a redundant population do not, indeed, appear to us so\ncertain and regular; but though we cannot always predict the mode, we\nmay with certainty predict the fact. If the proportion of the births to\nthe deaths for a few years indicates an increase of numbers much beyond\nthe proportional increased or acquired food of the country, we may be\nperfectly certain that, unless an emigration takes place, the deaths\nwill shortly exceed the births, and that the increase which has been\nobserved for a few years cannot be the real average increase of the\npopulation of the country. If there were no other depopulating causes,\nand if the preventive check did not operate very strongly, every country\nwould, without doubt, be subject to periodical plagues and famines.\n\nThe only true criterion of a real and permanent increase in the\npopulation of any country is the increase of the means of subsistence,\nand even this criterion is subject to some slight variations.\n\nOther circumstances being the same, it may be affirmed that countries\nare populous according to the quantity of human food which they produce\nor can acquire; and happy according to the liberality with which this\nfood is divided, or the quantity which a day's labour will purchase.\nThis happiness does not depend either upon their being thinly or fully\ninhabited, upon their poverty or their riches, their youth or age, but\non the proportion which the population and the food bear to each other.\n\nIn modern Europe the positive checks to population prevail less, and the\npreventive checks more, than in past times, and in the more uncivilised\nparts of the world, since wars, plagues, acute diseases, and famines\nhave become less frequent.\n\nWith regard to the preventive checks to population, though it must be\nacknowledged that the preventive check of moral restraint does not, at\npresent, largely prevail, yet it is becoming more prevalent, and if we\nconsider only the general term, which implies principally a delay of\nmarriage from prudential considerations, it may be considered as the\nmost potent of the checks which in modern Europe keep down the\npopulation to the level of the means of subsistence.\n\n\n_III.--Remedies other than Moral Restraint for Evils of Over-population_\n\nAll systems of equality which have been proposed are bound to fail,\nbecause the motive to the preventive check of moral restraint is\ndestroyed by equality and community of goods. As all would be equal and\nin similar circumstances, there would be no reason why one person should\nthink himself obliged to practise the duty of restraint more than\nanother. And how could a man be compelled to such restraint? The\noperation of this natural check of moral restraint depends exclusively\nupon the existence of the laws of property and succession; and in a\nstate of equality and community of property could only be replaced by\nsome artificial regulation of a very different stamp, and a much more\nunnatural character.\n\nNo scheme of equality, then, can overcome the population difficulty;\nemigration is only a palliative, and poor-law relief only a nostrum\nwhich eventually aggravates the evils of over-population.\n\nThe poor laws of England tend to depress the general condition of the\npoor in two ways. Their first obnoxious tendency is to increase\npopulation without increasing the food for its support. A poor man may\nmarry with little or no prospect of being able to support a family\nwithout parish assistance. The poor laws may be said, therefore, to\ncreate the poor which they maintain, and as the provisions must be\ndistributed to the greater numbers in smaller proportions, the labours\nof those who are not supported by parish assistance will purchase a\nsmaller quantity of provisions than before, and consequently more of\nthem will require assistance. Secondly, the quantity of provisions\nconsumed in workhouses by the least worthy members of the community\ndiminishes the food of the more worthy members, who are thus driven to\nobtain relief.\n\nFortunately for England a spirit of independence still remains among the\npeasantry. The poor laws, though calculated to eradicate this spirit,\nhave only partially succeeded. Hard as it may appear in individual\ninstances, dependent poverty ought to be deemed disgraceful. Such a\nstigma seems necessary to promote the general happiness of mankind. If\nmen be induced to marry from the mere prospect of parish provision, they\nare not only unjustly tempted to bring unhappiness and dependence upon\nthemselves and their children, but they are tempted unwittingly to\ninjure all in the same class as themselves. Further, the poor laws\ndiscourage frugality, and diminish the power and the will of the common\npeople to save, and they live from hand to mouth without thought of the\nfuture. A man who might not be deterred from going to the ale-house by\nthe knowledge that his death and sickness must throw his wife and family\nupon the parish, might fear to waste his earnings if the only provisions\nfor his family were casual charity.\n\nThe mass of unhappiness among common people must be diminished when one\nof the strongest checks to idleness and dissipation is thus removed; and\nwhen institutions which render dependent poverty so lessen the disgrace\nwhich should be attached to it. I feel persuaded that if the poor-laws\nhad never existed in this country, though there might have been a few\nmore instances of very severe distress, the aggregate mass of happiness\namong the common people would have been much greater than it is at\npresent.\n\nIn view of all these facts I do not propose a law to prevent the poor\nfrom marrying, but I propose a very gradual abolition of the poor laws.\n\nBy means of an extending commerce a country may be able to purchase an\nincreasing quantity of food, and to support an increasing population;\nbut extension of commerce cannot continue indefinitely; it must be\nchecked by competition and other economic interference; and as soon as\nfunds for the maintenance of labour become stationary, or begin to\ndecline, there will be no means of obtaining food for an increasing\npopulation.\n\nIt is the union of the agricultural and commercial systems, and not\neither of them taken separately, that is calculated to produce the\ngreatest national prosperity. A country with an extensive and rich\nterritory, the cultivation of which is stimulated by improvements in\nagriculture, manufactures, and foreign commerce, has such various and\nabundant resources that it is extremely difficult to say when they will\nreach their limits. There are, however, limits to the capital population\nof a country--limits which they must ultimately reach and cannot pass.\n\nTo secure a more abundant, and, at the same time, a steadier supply of\ngrain, a system of corn laws has been recommended, the object of which\nis to discourage, by duties or prohibitions, the importation of foreign\ncorn, and to encourage by bounties the exportation of corn of home\ngrowth.\n\nLaws which prohibit the importation of foreign grain, though by no means\nunobjectionable, are not open to the same objections as bounties, and\nmust be allowed to be adequate to the object they have in view, the\nmaintenance of an independent supply. Moreover, it is obviously\npossible, by restrictions upon the importation of foreign corn, to\nmaintain a balance between the agricultural and commercial classes. The\nquestion is not a question of the efficiency or inefficiency of the\nmeasure proposed, but of its policy or impolicy. In certain cases there\ncan be no doubt of the impolicy of attempting to maintain an unnatural\nbalance between the agricultural and commercial classes; but in other\ncases the impolicy is by no means so clear. Restrictions upon the\nimportation of foreign corn in a country which has great landed\nresources tend not only to spread every commercial and manufacturing\nadvantage possessed, whether permanent or temporary, on the soil, but\ntend also to prevent these great oscillations in the progress of\nagriculture and commerce which are seldom unattended with evil.\n\n\n_IV.--Moral Restraint and Discriminate Charity_\n\nAs it appears that in the actual state of every society which has come\nwithin our view the natural progress of population has been constantly\nand powerfully checked, and as it seems evident that no improved form of\ngovernment, no plans of emigration, no direction of natural industry\ncan prevent the continued action of a great check to population in some\nform or other, it follows that we must submit to it as an inevitable law\nof nature, and the only inquiry that remains is how it may take place\nwith the least possible prejudice to the virtue and happiness of human\nsociety.\n\nAll the immediate checks to population which have been observed to\nprevail in the same and different countries seem to be resolvable into\nmoral restraint, vice, and misery; and if our choice be confined to\nthose three, we cannot long hesitate in our decision. It seems certain\nthat moral restraint is the only virtuous and satisfactory mode of\nescape from the evils of over-population. Without such moral restraint,\nand if it were the custom to marry at the age of puberty, no virtue,\nhowever great, could rescue society from a most wretched and desperate\nstate of want, with its concomitant diseases and famines.\n\nPrudential restraint, if it were generally adopted, would soon raise the\nprice of labour by narrowing its supply, and those practising it would\nsave money and acquire habits of sobriety, industry, and economy such as\nshould ensure happy married life. Further, postponement of marriage\nwould give both sexes a better opportunity to choose life-partners\nwisely and well; and the passion, instead of being extinguished by early\nsensuality, would burn the more brightly because repressed for a time,\nand attained as the prize of industry and virtue, and as the reward of a\ngenuine attachment.\n\nMoral restraint in this matter is a Christian duty. There are, perhaps,\nfew actions that tend so directly to diminish the general happiness as\nto marry without the means of supporting children. He who commits this\nact clearly offends against the will of God, for he violates his duty to\nhis neighbours and to himself, and listens to the voice of passion\nrather than fulfils his higher obligations. The duty is intelligible to\nthe meanest capacity.\n\nIt is simply that he must not bring beings into the world whom he cannot\nsupport. When once this subject is cleared from the obscurity thrown\nover it by parochial laws and private benevolence, every man must see\nhis obligation. If he cannot support his children they must starve; and\nif he marry in the face of a fair probability that he shall not be able\nto support his children, he is guilty of all the evils which he thus\nbrings upon himself, his wife, and his offspring.\n\nWhen the wages of labour are barely sufficient to support two children,\na man marries and has five or six, and finds himself in distress. He\nblames the low price of labour. He blames the parish and the rich and\nsocial institutions; but he never blames himself. He may wish he had\nnever married; but it never enters into his head that he has done\nanything wrong. Indeed, he has always been told that to raise up\nchildren for his king and country is a very meritorious act.\n\nThe common people must be taught that they themselves in such a case are\nto blame, and that no one has power to help them if they act thus\ncontrary to the will of God. Those who wish to help the poor must try to\nraise the relative proportion between the price of labour and the price\nof provisions, instead of encouraging the poor to marry and overstock\nthe labour market. A market overstocked with labour and an ample\nremuneration to each labourer are objects perfectly incompatible with\neach other.\n\nIt is not enough, however, to abolish all the positive institutions\nwhich encourage population, but we must endeavour at the same time to\ncorrect the prevailing opinions which have the same effect. The public\nmust be made to understand that they have no _right_ to assistance, and\nthat it is the duty of man not only to propagate his species but to\npropagate virtue and happiness.\n\nOur private charity must also be discriminate. If we insist that a man\nshall eat even if he do not work, and that his family shall be supported\neven if he marry without prospect of supporting a family, we merely\nencourage worthless poverty. We must not put a premium on idleness and\nreckless marriages, and we must on no account do anything which tends to\nremove in any regular manner that inequality of circumstances which\nought always to exist between the single man and the man with a family.\n\n\n\n\nKARL MARX\n\nCapital: A Critical Analysis\n\n     Heinrich Karl Marx was born at Treves, in Rhenish Prussia, May 5,\n     1818, and died in London, March 14, 1883. One of the most advanced\n     leaders of the modern socialist movement in Germany, he was a\n     brilliant university graduate both at Berlin and Bonn. Going at\n     once into journalism, Marx from the outset of his career was known\n     as a pronounced socialist. He became celebrated as collaborator\n     with Heine in conducting the journal which has since become the\n     most influential organ in the world of socialism, \"Vorwaerts.\" He\n     was expelled successively from Germany, France, and Belgium, but\n     found a refuge in England, where he lived from 1849 till the close\n     of his life. The keynote of Marxist economy is the advocacy of the\n     claims of labour against those of capitalism. Marx was a skilled\n     linguist, and his philological talent enabled him to propagate his\n     views with special facility, so that he was the real founder of\n     international socialism. His famous social work, \"Capital: A\n     Critical Analysis of Capitalist Production\" (\"Das Kapital\"), which\n     was originally entitled \"A Criticism of Political Economy,\"\n     appeared in 1867, and has influenced the labour movement more than\n     any other composition in literature. A keen historical survey of\n     capital and also a vivid forecast, Marx's analysis of the economic\n     development of modern society has been justified in many respects\n     by subsequent events.\n\n\n_I.--The Genesis of Capitalist Production_\n\nMoney and commodities are not capital, any more than are the means of\nproduction and of subsistence. They need to be transformed into capital.\nThis transformation can only take place under conditions that separate\nlabourers from all property, and from the means by which they can\nrealise the profits of their labour; that is to say, from the possession\nof their means of production. The process of this separation clears the\nway for the capitalist system.\n\nThe economic structure of capitalistic society has developed from the\neconomic structure of feudal society. The dissolution of the latter set\nfree the elements of the former. The immediate producer, the labourer,\ncould only dispose of his own person after he had ceased to be attached\nas a serf to the soil. Then, to be able to sell his labour wherever he\ncould find a market, he must further have escaped from the mediaeval\nguilds and their rules and regulations, as from so many fetters on\nlabour. But these new freedmen, on the other hand, only thus made\nmerchandise of their labour after they had been deprived of their own\nmeans of production, and of all the guarantees of existence furnished\nunder the old feudalism. And the history of this, their expropriation,\nis written in history in characters of blood and fire.\n\nThe industrial capitalists, the new potentates, had to displace not only\nthe guild-masters of handicrafts, but also the feudal lords, who were in\npossession of the sources of wealth. But though the conquerors thus\ntriumphed, they have risen by means as opprobrious as those by which,\nlong before, the Roman freedman overcame his _patronus_. The servitude\nof the labourer was the starting point of the development which involved\nthe rise of the labourer and the genesis of the capitalist. The form of\nthis servitude was changed by the transformation of feudal exploitation\ninto capitalist exploitation.\n\nThe inauguration of the capitalist era dates from the sixteenth century.\nThe process consisted in the tearing of masses of men from their means\nof subsistence, to be hurled as free proletarians on the labour market.\nThe basis of the whole process is the expropriation of the peasant from\nthe soil. The history of this expropriation, differing in various\ncountries, has the classic form only in England.\n\nThe prelude of the revolution which founded the capitalist mode of\nproduction was played at the beginning of the sixteenth century by the\nbreaking up of the bands of feudal retainers, who, as Sir James Steuart\nwell says, \"everywhere uselessly filled house and castle.\" The old\nnobility had been devoured by the great feudal wars; the new was a child\nof its time, for which money was the power of all powers. Transformation\nof arable land into sheepwalks was therefore its cry, and an\nexpropriation of small peasants was initiated which threatened the ruin\nof the country. Thornton declares that the English working-class was\nprecipitated without any transition from its golden into its iron age.\n\nTo the evictions a direct impulse had been given by the rapid increase\nof the Flemish wool manufacturers and the corresponding rise in the\nprice of wool in England. At length such a deterioration ensued in the\ncondition of the common people that Queen Elizabeth, on a journey\nthrough the land, exclaimed, \"_Pauper ubique jacet_,\" and in the\nforty-third year of her reign the nation was constrained to acknowledge\nthe terrible pauperism that had arisen by the introduction of the\npoor-rate.\n\nEven in the last decade of the seventeenth century, the yeomanry, or\nindependent peasants, outnumbered the farmers, and they formed the main\nstrength of Cromwell's army. About 1750 the yeomen had vanished, and not\nlong afterwards was lost the common land of the agricultural labourer.\n\nCommunal property was an old institution which had lived on under the\naegis of feudalism. Under the \"glorious revolution\" which brought William\nof Orange to England, the landlord and capitalist appropriators of\nsurplus value inaugurated the new era by thefts of land on a colossal\nscale. Thus was formed the foundation of the princely domains of the\nEnglish oligarchy. In the eighteenth century the law itself became the\ninstrument of the theft of the people's land, and the transformation of\ncommunal land into private property had for its sequel the parliamentary\nform of robbery in shape of the Acts for the Enclosure of Commons.\n\nImmense numbers of the agricultural population were by this\ntransformation \"set free\" as proletarians for the manufacturing\nindustry.\n\nAfter the foregoing consideration of the forcible creation of a class of\noutlawed proletarians, converted into wage-labourers, the question\nremains,--Whence came the capitalists originally? The capitalist farmer\ndeveloped very gradually, first as a bailiff, somewhat corresponding to\nthe old Roman _villicus_; then as a _metaver_, or semi-farmer, dividing\nstock and product with the landowner; next as the farmer proper, making\nhis own capital increase by employing wage-labourers, and paying part of\nthe profit to the landlord as rent. The agricultural revolution of the\nsixteenth century enriched the farmer in proportion as it impoverished\nthe mass of the agricultural people. The continuous rise in the price of\ncommodities swelled the money capital of the farmer automatically, and\nhe grew rich at the expense both of landlord and labourer. It is thus\nnot surprising that at the close of the sixteenth century England had a\nclass of capitalist farmers who were wealthy, considering the conditions\nof the age.\n\n\n_II.--The Genesis of the Industrial Capitalist_\n\nBy degrees the agricultural population was transformed into material\nelements of variable capital. For the peasants were constrained, now\nthat they had been expropriated and cast adrift, to purchase their value\nin the form of wages from their new masters, the industrial capitalists.\nSo they were transformed into an element of constant capital.\n\nConsider the case of Westphalian peasants who, in the time of Frederic\nII., were all spinners of flax, and were forcibly expropriated from the\nsoil they had owned under feudal tenure. Some, however, remained and\nwere converted into day-labourers for large farmers. At the same time\narose large flax-spinning and weaving factories in which would work men\nwho had been \"set free\" from the soil. The flax looks just the same as\nbefore, but a new social soul has entered its body, for it now forms a\npart of the constant capital of the master manufacturer.\n\nThe flax which was formerly produced by a number of families, who also\nspun it in retail fashion after growing it, is now concentrated in the\nestablishment of a single capitalist, who employs others to spin and\nweave it for him. So the extra labour which formerly realised extra\nincome to many peasant families now brings profit to a few capitalists.\nThe spindles and the looms formerly scattered over the country are now\ncrowded into great labour barracks. The machines and raw material are\nnow transformed from means of independent livelihood for the peasant\nspinners and weavers into means for mastering them and extracting out of\nthem badly-paid labour.\n\nThe genesis of the industrial capitalist did not proceed in such a\ngradual way as that of the farmer, for it was accelerated by the\ncommercial demands of the new world-market created by the great\ndiscoveries of the end of the fifteenth century. The Middle Ages had\nhanded down two distinct forms of capital--the usurer's capital and the\nmerchant's capital. For a time the money capital formed by means of\nusury and commerce was prevented from conversion into industrial\ncapital, in the country by feudalism, in the towns by the guilds. These\nhindrances vanished with the disappearance of feudal society and the\nexpropriation and partial eviction of the rural population. The new\nmanufactures were established at seaports, or at inland points beyond\nthe control of the old municipalities and their guilds. Hence, in\nEngland arose an embittered struggle of the corporate towns against\nthese new industrial nurseries.\n\nThe power of the state, concentrating and organising the force of\nsociety, hastened the transition, shortening the process of\ntransformation of the feudal mode of production into the capitalist\nmode.\n\nThe next development of the capitalist era was the rise of the stock\nexchange and the great banks. The latter were at first merely\nassociations of private speculators, who, in exchange for privileges\nbestowed on them, advanced money to help the governments. The Bank of\nEngland, founded in 1684, began by lending money to the government at\neight per cent. At the same time it was empowered by parliament to coin\nmoney out of the same capital, by lending it again to the public in the\nform of bank-notes.\n\nBy degrees the Bank of England became the eternal creditor of the\nnation, and so arose the national debt, together with an international\ncredit system, which has often concealed one or other of the sources of\nprimitive accumulation of this or that people. One of the main lines of\ninternational business is the lending out of enormous amounts of capital\nby one country to another. Much capital which to-day appears in America\nwithout any certificate of birth, was yesterday in England, the\ncapitalised blood of her children.\n\nTerrible cruelty characterised much of the development of industrial\ncapitalism, both on the Continent and in England. The birth of modern\nindustry is heralded by a great slaughter of the innocents. Like the\nroyal navy, the factories were recruited by the press-gang. Cottages and\nworkhouses were ransacked for poor children to recruit the factory\nstaffs, and these were forced to work by turns during the greater part\nof the night. As Lancashire was thinly populated and great numbers of\nhands were suddenly wanted, thousands of little hapless creatures, whose\nnimble little fingers were especially wanted, were sent down to the\nnorth from the workhouses of London, Birmingham, and other towns. These\napprentices were flogged, tortured, and fettered. The profits of\nmanufacturers were enormous. At length Sir Robert Peel brought in his\nbill for the protection of children.\n\nWith the growth of capitalist production during the manufacturing period\nthe public conscience of Europe had lost the last remnant of shame, and\nthe nations cynically boasted of every infamy that reinforced\ncapitalistic accumulation. Liverpool waxed fat on the slave trade. The\nchild-slavery in the European manufactories needed for its pedestal the\nslavery, pure and simple, of the negroes imported into America. If\nmoney, according to Marie Augier, \"comes into the world with a\ncongenital bloodstain on one cheek,\" capital comes dripping from head to\nfoot, from every pore, with blood and dirt.\n\n\n_III.--Commodities, Exchange and Capital_\n\nA commodity is an object, external to ourselves, which by its properties\nin some way satisfies human wants. The utility of a thing constitutes\nits use-value. Use-values of commodities form the substance of all\nwealth, and also become the material repositories of exchange-value. The\nmagnitude of the value of any article is determined by the labour-time\nsocially necessary for its production. So the value of a commodity would\nremain constant if the labour-time required for its production also\nremained constant. But the latter varies with every variation in the\nproductiveness of labour.\n\nAn article may have use-value, and yet be without value, if its utility\nis not due to labour, as in the case of air, or virgin soil, or natural\nmeadows. If a thing be useless, so is the labour contained in it, for,\nas the labour does not count as such, it therefore creates no value. A\ncoat is worth twice as much as ten yards of linen, because the linen\ncontains only half as much labour as the coat. All labour is the\nexpenditure of human labour-power in a special form and with a definite\naim, and in this, its character of concrete useful labour, it produces\nuse-values.\n\nEveryone knows, if he knows nothing else, that commodities have a value\nform common to them all, and presenting a marked contrast with the\nvaried bodily forms of their use-values. I mean their money form.\n\nEvery owner of a commodity wishes to part with it in exchange for other\ncommodities, but only those whose use-value satisfies some want of his.\nTo the owner of a commodity, every other commodity is, in regard to his\nown, a particular equivalent. Consequently his own commodity is the\nuniversal equivalent for all others. But, since this applies to every\nowner, there is, in fact, no commodity acting as a universal equivalent.\nIt was soon seen that a particular commodity would not become the\nuniversal equivalent except by a social act. The social action,\ntherefore, has set apart the particular commodity in which all values\nare represented, and the bodily form of this commodity has become the\nform of the socially recognised universal equivalent--money.\n\nThe first chief function of money is to supply commodities with the\nmaterial for the expression of their values. It thus serves as a\nuniversal measure of value, and only by virtue of this function does\ngold, the commodity _par excellence_, become money. But money itself has\nno price. As the measure of value and the standard of price, money has\ntwo distinct functions to perform. It is the measure of value inasmuch\nas it is the socially recognised incarnation, of human labour; it is the\nstandard of price inasmuch as it is a fixed weight of metal. As the\nmeasure of value it serves to convert the values of all the various\ncommodities into prices or imaginary quantities of gold. As the standard\nof price it measures those quantities of gold.\n\nThe word pound was the money-name given to an actual pound weight of\nsilver. When, as a measure of value, gold superseded silver, the word\npound became, as a money-name, differentiated from the same word as a\nweight-name. The prices, or quantities of gold, into which the values of\ncommodities are ideally changed are now expressed in the names of coins,\nor in the legally valid names of the subdivisions of the gold standard.\nHence, instead of saying, \"A quarter of wheat is worth an ounce of\ngold,\" the English would say, \"It is worth L3 17s. 10-1/2d.\" In this\nfashion commodities express by their prices how much they are worth, and\nmoney serves as _money of account_ whenever it is a question of fixing\nthe value of an article in its money-form. When Anarcharsis was asked\nfor what purpose the Greeks used money, he replied, \"For reckoning.\"\n\nEvery labourer in adding new labour also adds new value. In what way?\nEvidently, only by labouring productively in a particular way: the\nspinner by his spinning, the weaver by his weaving, the smith by his\nforging. Each use-value disappears, only to reappear under a new form in\nsome new use-value. By virtue of its general character, as being\nexpenditure of human labour-power in the abstract, spinning adds a new\nvalue to the values of cotton and spindle. On the other hand, by virtue\nof its special character, as being a concrete, useful process, the same\nlabour of spinning both transfers the values of the means of production\nto the product and preserves them in the product. Hence at one and the\nsame time there is produced a twofold result.\n\nBy the simple addition of a certain quantity of labour, new value is\nadded, and by the quality of this added labour the original values of\nthe means of production are preserved in the product. That part of\ncapital which is represented by means of production, by the raw\nmaterial, auxiliary material, and the instruments of labour, does not,\nin the process of production, undergo any quantitative alteration of\nvalue. I therefore call it the constant part of capital, or, more\nbriefly, _constant capital_.\n\nOn the other hand, that part of capital represented by labour-power\ndoes, in the process of production, undergo an alteration of value. It\nboth reproduces the equivalent of its own value, and also produces an\nexcess, a surplus value, which may itself vary. This part of capital is\ncontinually being transformed from a constant into a variable magnitude.\nI therefore call it the variable part of capital, or, shortly, _variable\ncapital_.\n\n\n_IV.--Accumulation of Capital_\n\nThe first condition of the accumulation of capital is that the\ncapitalist must have contrived to sell his commodities, and to\nre-convert the greater portion of the money thus received into capital.\nWhatever be the proportion of surplus-value which the industrial\ncapitalist retains for himself or yields up to others, he is the one\nwho, in the first instance, appropriates it.\n\nThe process of production incessantly converts material wealth into\ncapital, into means of creating more wealth and means of enjoyment for\nthe capitalist. On the other hand, the labourer, on quitting the\nprocess, is nothing more than he was when he began it. He is a source of\nwealth, but has not the slightest means of making wealth his own. The\nproduct of the labourer is incessantly converted not only into\ncommodities, but into capital, into means of subsistence that buy the\nlabourer, and into means of production that command the producers.\n\nThe capitalist as constantly produces labour-power; in short, he\nproduces the labourer, but as a wage-labourer. This incessant\nreproduction, this perpetuation of the labourer, is the _sine qua non_\nof capitalist production.\n\nFrom a social point of view, the working-class is just as much an\nappendage of capital as the ordinary instruments of labour. The\nappearance of independence is kept up by means of a constant change of\nemployers, and by the legal fiction of a contract. In former times\ncapital legislatively enforced its proprietary rights over the free\nlabourer.\n\nCapitalist production reproduces and perpetuates the condition for\nexploiting the labourer. The economical bondage of the labourer is both\ncaused and hidden by the periodic sale of himself to changing masters.\nCapitalist production, under its aspect of a continuous connected\nprocess, produces not only commodities, not only surplus value, but it\nalso produces and reproduces the capitalist relation; on the one side\nthe capitalist, on the other the wage-labourer.\n\nCapital pre-supposes wage-labour, and wage-labour pre-supposes capital.\nOne is a necessary condition to the existence of the other. The two\nmutually call each other into existence. Does an operative in a\ncotton-factory produce nothing but cotton goods? No, he produces\ncapital. He produces values that give fresh command over his labour, and\nthat, by means of such command, create fresh values.\n\nEvery individual capital is a larger or smaller concentration of means\nof production, with a corresponding command over a larger or smaller\nlabour-army. Every accumulation becomes the means of new accumulation.\nThe growth of social capital is affected by the growth of many\nindividual capitals.\n\nWith the accumulation of capital, therefore, the number of capitalists\ngrows to a greater or less extent. Two points characterise this kind of\nconcentration which grows directly out of, or rather is identical with,\naccumulation. First, the increasing concentration of the social means of\nproduction in the hands of individual capitalists is, other things\nremaining equal, limited by the degree of increase of social wealth.\nSecondly, the part of social capital domiciled in each particular sphere\nof production is divided among many capitalists who face one another as\nindependent commodity-producers competing with each other.\n\nAccumulation and the concentration accompanying it are, therefore, not\nonly scattered, but the increase of each functioning capital is thwarted\nby the formation of new and the subdivision of old capitals.\nAccumulation, therefore, presents itself on the one hand as increasing\nconcentration of the means of production and of the command over labour;\non the other, as repulsion of many individual capitalists one from\nanother.\n\n\n\n\nJOHN STUART MILL\n\nPrinciples of Political Economy\n\n     John Stuart Mill, the eldest son of the philosopher, James Mill,\n     was born in London on May 20, 1806. His early education was\n     remarkable. At the age of fourteen he had an extensive knowledge of\n     Greek, Latin, and mathematics, and had begun to study logic and\n     political economy. In 1823 he received an appointment at the India\n     Office, and in the same year he became a member of a small\n     Utilitarian society which met at Jeremy Bentham's house, and soon\n     became the leader of the Utilitarian school. Mill's great work on\n     the \"Principles of Political Economy,\" with some of their\n     \"Applications to Social Philosophy,\" embodies the results of many\n     years of study, disputation and thought. It is built upon\n     foundations laid by Ricardo and Malthus, and has itself formed the\n     basis of all subsequent work in England. Throughout, it manifests a\n     belief in the possibility of great social improvement to be\n     achieved upon individualistic lines. It was begun late in 1845, and\n     superseded a contemplated work to be called \"Ethnology.\" Mill's\n     extensive familiarity with the problems of political economy\n     enabled him to compose the work with rapidity unusual in his\n     production. Thus, before the end of 1847, the last sheet of the\n     manuscript was in the hands of the printer, and early in the\n     following year the treatise was published. Mill died at Avignon on\n     May 8, 1873.\n\n\n_I.--The Production of Wealth_\n\nIn every department of human affairs, practice long precedes science.\nThe conception, accordingly, of political economy as a branch of science\nis extremely modern; but the subject with which its inquiries are\nconversant--wealth--has, in all ages, constituted one of the chief\npractical interests of mankind. Everyone has a notion, sufficiently\ncorrect for common purposes, of what is meant by \"wealth.\" Money, being\nthe instrument of an important public and private purpose, is rightly\nregarded as wealth; but everything else which serves any human purpose,\nand which nature does not supply gratuitously, is wealth also. Wealth\nmay be defined as all useful or agreeable things which possess\nexchangeable value.\n\nThe production of wealth--the extraction of the instruments of human\nsubsistence and enjoyment from the materials of the globe--is evidently\nnot an arbitrary thing. It has its necessary conditions.\n\nThe requisites of production are two--labour and appropriate natural\nobjects. Labour is either bodily or mental. Of the other requisite it is\nto be remarked that the objects supplied by nature are, except in a few\nunimportant cases, only instrumental to human wants after having\nundergone some transformations by human exertion.\n\nNature does more, however, than supply materials; she also supplies\npowers. Of natural powers, some are practically unlimited, others\nlimited in quantity, and much of the economy of society depends on the\nlimited quantity in which some of the most important natural agents\nexist, and more particularly land. As soon as there is not so much of a\nnatural agent to be had as would be used if it could be obtained for the\nasking, the ownership or use of it acquires an exchangeable value. Where\nthere is more land wanted for cultivation than a place possesses of a\ncertain quality and advantages of situation, land of that quality and\nsituation may be sold for a price, or let for an annual rent.\n\nLabour employed on external nature in modes subservient to production is\nemployed either directly, or indirectly, in previous or concomitant\noperations designed to facilitate, perhaps essential to the\npossibilities of, the actual production. One of the modes in which\nlabour is employed indirectly requires particular notice, namely, when\nit is employed in producing subsistence to maintain the labourers while\nthey are engaged in the production. This previous employment of labour\nis an indispensable condition to every productive operation. In order to\nraise any product there are needed labour, tools, and materials, and\nfood to feed the labourers. But the tools and materials can be\nremunerated only from the product when obtained. The food, on the\ncontrary, is intrinsically useful, and the labour expended in producing\nit, and recompensed by it, needs not to be remunerated over again from\nthe produce of the subsequent labour which it has fed.\n\nThe claim to remuneration founded on the possession of food is\nremuneration for abstinence, not for labour. If a person has a store of\nfood, he has it in his power to consume it himself in idleness. If,\ninstead, he gives it to productive labourers to support them during\ntheir work, he can claim a remuneration from the produce. He will, in\nfact, expect his advance of food to come back to him with an increase,\ncalled, in the language of business, a profit.\n\nThus, there is necessary to productive operations, besides labour and\nnatural agents, a stock, previously accumulated, of the products of\nlabour. This accumulated stock is termed capital. Capital is frequently\nsupposed to be synonymous with money, but money can afford no assistance\nto production. To do this it must be exchanged for other things capable\nof contributing to production. What capital does for production is to\nafford the shelter, tools, and materials which the work requires, and to\nfeed and otherwise maintain the labourers during the process. Whatever\nthings are destined for this use are capital. That industry is limited\nby capital is self-evident. There can be no more industry than is\nsupplied with materials to work up and food to eat. Nevertheless, it is\noften forgotten that the people of a country are maintained and have\ntheir wants supplied, not by the produce of present labour, but of past,\nand it long continued to be believed that laws and governments, without\ncreating capital, could create industry.\n\nAll capital is the result of saving. Somebody must have produced it, and\nforborne to consume it, or it is the result of an excess of production\nover consumption. Although saved, and the result of saving, it is\nnevertheless consumed--exchanged partly for tools which are worn out by\nuse, partly for materials destroyed in the using, and by consumption of\nthe ultimate product; and, finally, paid in wages to productive\nlabourers who consume it for their daily wants. The greater part, in\nvalue, of the wealth now existing in England has been produced by human\nhands within the last twelve months. A very small proportion, indeed,\nwas in existence ten years ago. The land subsists, and is almost the\nonly thing that subsists. Capital is kept in existence, not by\npreservation, but by perpetual reproduction.\n\n\n_II.--The Distribution of Wealth_\n\nThe laws and conditions of the production of wealth partake of the\ncharacter of physical truths. There is nothing optional or arbitrary\nabout them. It is not so with the distribution of wealth. That is a\nmatter of human institution solely.\n\nAmong the different modes of distributing the produce of land and labour\nwhich have been adopted, attention is first claimed by the primary\ninstitution on which the economical arrangements of society have always\nrested--private property.\n\nThe institution of property consists in the recognition, in each person,\nof a right to the exclusive disposal of the fruits of their own labour\nand abstinence, and implies the right of the possessor of the fruits of\nprevious labour to what has been produced by others by the co-operation\nbetween present labour and those fruits of past labour--that is, the\nfreedom of acquiring by contract.\n\nWe now proceed to the hypothesis of a threefold division of the produce,\namong labourers, landlords, and capitalists, beginning with the subject\nof wages.\n\nWages depend mainly upon the demand and supply of labour, or, roughly,\non the proportion between population and capital. It is a common saying\nthat wages are high when trade is good. Capital which was lying idle is\nbrought into complete efficiency, and wages, in the particular\noccupation concerned, rise. But this is but a temporary fluctuation, and\nnothing can permanently alter _general_ wages except an increase or\ndiminution of capital itself compared with the quantity of labour\noffering itself to be hired.\n\nAgain, high prices can only raise wages if the producers and dealers,\nreceiving more, are induced to add to their capital or, at least, to\ntheir purchases of labour. But high prices of this sort, if they benefit\none class of labourers, can only do so at the expense of others, since\nall other people, by paying those high prices, have their purchasing\npower reduced by an equal degree.\n\nAnother common opinion, which is only partially true, is that wages vary\nwith the price of food, rising when it rises and falling when it falls.\nIn times of scarcity, people generally compete more violently for\nemployment, and lower the labour market against themselves. But dearness\nor cheapness of food, when of a permanent character, may affect wages.\nIf food grows permanently dearer without a rise of wages, a greater\nnumber of children will prematurely die, and thus wages will ultimately\nbe higher; but only because the number of people will be smaller than if\nfood had remained cheap. Certain rare circumstances excepted, high wages\nimply restraints on population.\n\nAs the wages of the labourer are the remuneration of labour, so the\nprofits of the capitalist are properly the remuneration of abstinence.\nThey are what he gains by forbearing to consume his capital for his own\nuses and allowing it to be consumed by productive labourers for their\nuses. Of these gains, however, a part only is properly an equivalent for\nthe use of the capital itself; namely, so much as a solvent person would\nbe willing to pay for the loan of it. This, as everybody knows, is\ncalled interest. What a person expects to gain who superintends the\nemployment of his own capital is always more than this. The rate of\nprofit greatly exceeds the rate of interest. The surplus is partly\ncompensation for risk and partly remuneration for the devotion of his\ntime and labour. Thus, the three parts into which profit may be regarded\nas resolving itself, may be described, respectively, as interest,\ninsurance, and wages of superintendence.\n\nThe requisites of production being labour, capital, and natural agents,\nthe only person besides the labourer and the capitalist whose consent is\nnecessary to production is he who possesses exclusive power over some\nnatural agent. The land is the principal natural agent capable of being\nso appropriated, and the consideration paid for its use is called rent.\n\nIt is at once evident that rent is the effect of a monopoly. If all the\nland of the country belonged to one person he could fix the rent at his\npleasure. The whole people would be dependent on his will for the\nnecessaries of life. But even when monopolised--in the sense of being\nlimited in quantity--land will command a price only if it exists in less\nquantity than the demand, and no land ever pays rent unless, in point of\nfertility and situation, it belongs to those superior kinds which exist\nin less quantity than the demand.\n\nAny land yields just so much more than the ordinary profits of stock as\nit yields more than what is returned by the worst land in cultivation.\nThe surplus is what is paid as rent to the landlord. The standard of\nrent, therefore, is the excess of the produce of any land beyond what\nwould be returned to the same capital if employed on the worst land in\ncultivation, or, generally, in the least advantageous circumstances.\n\n\n_III.--Of Exchange and Value_\n\nOf the two great departments of political economy, the production of\nwealth and its distribution, value has to do with the latter alone. The\nconditions and laws of production would be unaltered if the arrangements\nof society did not depend on, or admit of, exchange.\n\nValue always means in political economy value in exchange, the command\nwhich its possession gives over purchasable commodities in general;\nwhereas, by the price of a thing is understood its value in money.\n\nThat a thing may have value in exchange two conditions are necessary. It\nmust be of some use--that is, it must conduce to some purpose, and\nsecondly, there must be some difficulty in its attainment. This\ndifficulty is of three kinds. It may consist in an absolute limitation\nof supply, as in the case of wines which can be grown only in peculiar\ncircumstances of soil, climate, and exposure; in the labour and expense\nrequisite to produce the commodity; or, thirdly, the limitation of the\nquantity which can be produced at a given cost, to which class\nagricultural produce belongs, increased production beyond a certain\nlimit entailing increased cost.\n\nWhen the production of a commodity is the effect of labour and\nexpenditure, there is a minimum value, which is the essential condition\nof its permanent production, and must be sufficient to repay the cost of\nproduction, and, besides, the ordinary expectation of profit. This may\nbe called the _necessary_ value. When the commodity can be made in\nindefinite quantity, this necessary value is also the maximum which the\nproducers can expect. If it is such that it brings a rate of profit\nhigher than is customary, capital rushes in to share in this extra gain,\nand, by increasing the supply, reduces the value. Accordingly, by the\noperation of supply and demand the values of things are made to conform\nin the long run to the cost of production.\n\nThe introduction of money does not interfere with the operation of any\nof the laws of value. Things which by barter would exchange for one\nanother will, if sold for money, sell for an equal amount of it, and so\nwill exchange for one another, still through the process of exchanging\nthem will consist of two operations instead of one. Money is a\ncommodity, and its value is determined like that of other commodities,\ntemporarily by demand and supply and permanently by cost of production.\n\nCredit, as a substitute for money, is but a transfer of capital from\nhand to hand, generally from persons unable to employ it to hands more\ncompetent to employ it efficiently in production. Credit is not a\nproductive power in itself, though without it the productive powers\nalready existing could not be brought into complete employment.\n\nIn international trade we find that the law that permanent value is\nproportioned to cost of production does not hold good between\ncommodities produced in distant places as it does in those produced in\nadjacent places.\n\nBetween distant places, and especially between different countries,\nprofits may continue different, because persons do not usually remove\nthemselves or their capital to a distant place without a very strong\nmotive. If capital removed to remote parts of the world as readily, and\nfor as small an inducement, as it moves to another quarter of the same\ntown, profits would be equivalent all over the world, and all things\nwould be produced in the places where the same labour and capital would\nproduce them in greatest quantity and of best quality. A tendency may\neven now be observed towards such a state of things; capital is becoming\nmore and more cosmopolitan.\n\nIt is not a difference in the _absolute_ cost of production which\ndetermines the interchange between distant places, but a difference in\nthe _comparative_ cost. We may often by trading with foreigners obtain\ntheir commodities at a smaller expense of labour and capital than they\ncost to the foreigners themselves. The bargain is advantageous to the\nforeigner because the commodity which he receives in exchange, though it\nhas cost us less, would probably have cost him more.\n\nThe value of a commodity brought from a distant place does not depend on\nthe cost of production in the place from whence it comes, but on the\ncost of its acquisition in that place; which in the case of an imported\narticle means the cost of production of the thing which is exported to\npay for it. In other words, the values of foreign commodities depend on\nthe terms of international exchange, which, in turn, depend on supply\nand demand.\n\nIt may be established that when two countries trade together in two\ncommodities the exchange value of these commodities relatively to each\nother will adjust itself to the inclinations and circumstances of the\nconsumers on both sides in such manner that the quantities required by\neach country of the article which it imports from its neighbour shall be\nexactly sufficient to pay for one another, a law which holds of any\ngreater number of commodities. International values depend also on the\nmeans of production available in each country for the supply of foreign\nmarkets, but the practical result is little affected thereby.\n\n\n_IV.--On the Influence of Government_\n\nOne of the most disputed questions in political science and in practical\nstatesmanship relates to the proper limits of the functions and agency\nof governments. It may be agreed that they fall into two classes:\nfunctions which are either inseparable from the idea of government or\nare exercised habitually by all governments; and those respecting which\nit has been considered questionable whether governments should exercise\nthem or not. The former may be termed the _necessary_, the latter the\n_optional_, functions of government.\n\nIt may readily be shown that the admitted functions of government\nembrace a much wider field than can easily be included within the\nring-fence of any restrictive definition, and that it is hardly possible\nto find any ground of justification common to them all, except the\ncomprehensive one of general expediency; nor to limit the interference\nof government by any universal rule, save the simple and vague one that\nit should never be admitted but when the case of expediency is strong.\n\nA most important consideration in viewing the economical effects arising\nfrom performance of necessary government functions is the means adopted\nby government to raise the revenue which is the condition of their\nexistence.\n\nThe qualities desirable in a system of taxation have been embodied by\nAdam Smith in four maxims or principles, which may be said to have\nbecome classical:\n\n(1) The subjects of every state ought to contribute to the support of\nthe government as nearly as possible in proportion to their respective\nabilities; that is, in proportion to the revenue which they respectively\nenjoy under the protection of the state.\n\n(2) The tax which each individual has to pay ought to be certain, and\nnot arbitrary. A great degree of inequality is not nearly so great an\nevil as a small degree of uncertainty.\n\n(3) Every tax ought to be levied at the time or in the manner in which\nit is most likely to be convenient for the contributor to pay it. Taxes\nupon such consumable goods as are articles of luxury are all finally\npaid by the consumer, and generally in a manner that is very convenient\nto him.\n\n(4) Every tax ought to be so contrived as to take out and keep out of\nthe pockets of the people as little as possible over and above what it\nbrings into the public treasury.\n\nTaxes on commodities may be considered in the following way. Suppose\nthat a commodity is capable of being made by two different processes.\nIt is the interest of the community that of the two methods producers\nshould adopt that which produces the best article at the lowest price.\nSuppose, however, that a tax is laid on one of the processes, and no tax\nat all, or one of lesser amount, on the other. If the tax falls, as it\nis, of course, intended to do, upon the process which the producers\nwould have adopted, it creates an artificial motive for preferring the\nuntaxed process though the inferior of the two. If, therefore, it has\nany effect at all it causes the commodity to be produced of worse\nquality, or at a greater expense of labour; it causes so much of the\nlabour of the community to be wasted, and the capital employed in\nsupporting and remunerating the labour to be expended as uselessly as if\nit were spent in hiring men to dig holes and fill them up again. The\nloss falls on the consumers, though the capital of the country is also\neventually diminished by the diminution of their means of saving, and in\nsome degree of their inducements to save.\n\nTaxes on foreign trade are of two kinds: taxes on imports and on\nexports. On the first aspect of the matter it would seem that both these\ntaxes are paid by the consumers of the commodity. The true state of the\ncase, however, is much more complicated.\n\nBy taxing exports we may draw into our coffers, at the expense of\nforeigners, not only the whole tax, but more than the tax; in other\ncases we shall gain exactly the tax; in others less than the tax. In\nthis last case, a part of the tax is borne by ourselves, possibly the\nwhole, even more than the whole.\n\nIf the imposition of the tax does not diminish the demand it will leave\nthe trade exactly as it was before. We shall import as much and export\nas much; the whole of the tax will be paid out of our own pockets.\n\nBut the imposition of a tax almost always diminishes the demand more or\nless. It may therefore be laid down as a principle that a tax on\nimported commodities, when it really operates as a tax, and not as a\nprohibition, either total or partial, almost always falls in part upon\nthe foreigners who consume our goods. It is not, however, on the person\nfrom whom we buy, but on those who buy from us that a portion of our\ncustom duties spontaneously falls. It is the foreign consumer of our\nexported commodities who is obliged to pay a higher price for them\nbecause we maintain revenue duties on foreign goods.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe now reach the consideration of the grounds and limits of the\nprinciple of _laisser-faire,_ or non-interference by government.\n\nWhatever theory we adopt respecting the foundation of the social union\nthere is a circle round every human being which no government ought to\nbe permitted to overstep; there is a part of the life of every person of\nyears of discretion within which the individuality of that person ought\nto reign uncontrolled either by any other individual or by the public\ncollectively. Scarcely any degree of utility short of absolute necessity\nwill justify prohibitory regulation, unless it can also be made to\nrecommend itself to the general conscience.\n\nA general objection to government agency is that every increase of the\nfunctions devolving on the government is an increase of its power both\nin the form of authority and, still more, in the indirect form of\ninfluence. Though a better organisation of governments would greatly\ndiminish the force of the objection to the mere multiplication of their\nduties, it would still remain true that in all the advanced communities\nthe great majority of things are worse done by the intervention of\ngovernment than the individuals most interested in the matter would do\nthem if left to themselves.\n\nLetting alone, in short, should be the practice; every departure from\nit, unless required by some great good, is a certain evil.\n\n\n\n\nMONTESQUIEU\n\nThe Spirit of Laws\n\n     Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de La Brede et de Montesquieu, was\n     born near Bordeaux, in France, Jan. 18, 1689. For ten years he was\n     president of the Bordeaux court of justice, but it was the\n     philosophy of laws that interested him rather than the\n     administration of them. He travelled over Europe and studied the\n     political systems of the various countries, and found at last in\n     England the form of free government which, it seemed to him, ought\n     to be introduced into France. For twenty years he worked at his\n     masterpiece, \"The Spirit of Laws\" (\"De l'Esprit des Lois\"), which\n     was published anonymously in 1748, and in which he surveys every\n     political system, ancient and modern, and after examining their\n     principles and defects, proposes the English constitution as a\n     model for the universe. It may be doubted if any book has produced\n     such far-reaching effects. Not only did it help on the movement\n     that ended in the French Revolution, but it induced those nations\n     who sought for some mean between despotism and mob-rule to adopt\n     the English system of parliamentary government. \"The Spirit of\n     Laws\" is rather hard reading, but it still remains the finest and\n     the soundest introduction to the philosophical study of history.\n     Montesquieu died on February 10, 1755.\n\n\n_I.--On a Republic_\n\nThere are three kinds of governments: the republican, the monarchical,\nand the despotic. Under a republic, the people, or a part of the people,\nhas the sovereign power; under a monarchy, one man alone rules, but by\nfixed and established laws; under a despotism, a single man, without law\nor regulation, impels everything according to his will or his caprice.\n\nWhen, in a republic, the whole people possesses sovereign power, it is a\ndemocracy. When this power is in the hands of only a part of the people\nit is an aristocracy. In a democracy the people is in certain respects\nthe monarch, in others it is the subject. It cannot reign except by its\nvotes, and the laws which establish the right of voting are thus\nfundamental in this form of government. A people possessing sovereign\npower ought to do itself everything that it can do well; what it cannot\ndo well it must leave to its ministers. Its ministers, however, are not\nits own unless it nominates them; it is, therefore, a fundamental maxim\nof this government that the people should nominate its ministers. The\npeople is admirably fitted to choose those whom it must entrust with\nsome part of its authority. It knows very well that a man has often been\nto war, and that he has gained such and such victories, and it is\ntherefore very capable of electing a general. It knows if a judge is\nhardworking and if the generality of suitors are content with his\ndecisions, and it knows if he has not been condemned for corruption;\nthis is sufficient to enable a people to elect its praetors.\n\nAll these things are facts about which a people can learn more in a\nmarket-place than a monarch can in a palace. But does a people know how\nto conduct an affair of state, to study situations, opportunities, and\nprofit by them? No. The generality of citizens have sufficient ability\nto be electors, but not enough to be elected, and the people, though it\nis capable of forming a judgment on the administration of others, is not\ncompetent to undertake the administration itself. The people have always\ntoo much action or too little. Sometimes with a hundred thousand arms it\novertakes everything; sometimes with a hundred thousand feet it moves as\nslowly as a centipede.\n\nIn a popular state the people are divided into certain classes, and on\nthe way in which this division is carried out depend the duration of a\ndemocracy and its prosperity. Election by lot is the democratic method;\nelection by choice the aristocratic method. Determination by lot allows\nevery citizen a reasonable hope of serving his country; but it is a\ndefective measure, and it is by regulating and correcting it that great\nlegislators have distinguished themselves. Solon, for instance,\nestablished at Athens the method of nominating by choice all the\nmilitary posts, and of electing by lot the senators and the judges;\nmoreover, he ordained that the candidates for election by lot should\nfirst be examined, and that those who were adjudged unworthy should be\nexcluded; in that manner he combined the method of chance and the method\nof choice.\n\nIt does not require much probity for a monarchy or a despotism to\nmaintain itself. The force of the laws in one, and the uplifted sword of\nthe tyrant in the other, regulates and curbs everything. In a democracy,\nhowever, everything depends upon the political virtues of the people.\nWhen a democracy loses its patriotism, its frugality, and its passion\nfor equality, it is soon destroyed by avarice and ambition.\n\nThe principle of democracy grows corrupt, not only when a people loses\nits spirit of equality, but when this spirit of equality becomes\nexcessive, and each man wishes to be the equal of those whom he has\nchosen to rule over him. Great successes, and especially those to which\nthe people have largely contributed, give it so much pride that it is no\nlonger possible to direct it. Thus it was that the victory over the\nPersians corrupted the republic of Athens; thus it was that the victory\nover the Athenians ruined the republic of Syracuse. There are two\nexcesses which a democracy must avoid: the spirit of inequality, which\nleads to an aristocracy or to the government by one man; and the spirit\nof excessive equality, which ends in despotism.\n\n\n_II.--On an Aristocracy_\n\nIn an aristocracy the sovereign power is in the hands of a group of\npersons. It is they who make the laws and see that they are carried out,\nand the rest of the people are the subjects of the nobility. When there\nis a great number of nobles, a senate is necessary to regulate the\naffairs which the nobles themselves are too numerous to deal with, and\nto prepare those which they are able to decide on. In this case the\naristocracy exists in the senate, the democracy in the noble class, and\nthe people count for nothing.\n\nThe best aristocracy is that in which the popular party, which has no\nshare of the power, is so small and so poor that the governing class has\nno reason for oppressing it. Thus when Antipater made a law at Athens\nthat those who had not two thousand drachmas should be excluded from\nvoting, he formed the best aristocracy possible--for this qualification\nwas so slight that it excluded very few people, and no one who had any\nconsideration in the city. Aristocratic families should belong to the\npeople as much as possible. The more an aristocracy resembles a\ndemocracy, the more perfect it is. The most imperfect of all is that in\nwhich the lower classes are ground down by the upper classes.\n\nAn aristocracy has by itself more force than a democracy. The nobles\nform a corporation which, by its prerogative and for its particular\ninterest, restrains the people; but it is very difficult for this\ncorporation to restrain its own members as easily as it restrains the\npopulace. Public crimes can, no doubt, be punished, as it is in the\ngeneral interests of an aristocracy that this should be done; but, as a\nrule, private misdeeds in the nobility will be overlooked. A corporation\nof this sort can only curb itself in two ways--either by a great\npolitical virtue, which leads the nobles to regard the people as their\nequals and makes for the formation of large republic, or by the lesser\nvirtue of moderation, which enables them to conserve their power.\n\nAn aristocracy grows corrupt when the power of the nobles becomes\narbitrary. When the governing families observe the laws they form a\nmonarchy which has several monarchies; this is a very good thing in its\nnature, because all these monarchies are bound together by the laws.\nBut when they no longer observe them, they form a despotic state which\nhas many despots.\n\nThe extreme corruption comes about when the nobility becomes hereditary;\nit can no longer be moderate in the exercise of its powers. If the\nnobles are small in number their power increases, but their surety\ndiminishes; if they are great in number, their power is less, but their\nsurety more certain, for power goes on increasing, and surety goes on\ndiminishing up to the despot whose power is as excessive as his peril. A\nmultitude of nobles in an hereditary aristocracy thus makes the\ngovernment less violent; but as they will have but little political\nvirtue, they will grow nonchalant, idle, and irresponsible, so that the\nstate at last will have no longer any force or resilience.\n\nAn aristocracy is able to maintain its force if its laws are such that\nthey make the nobility feel more the dangers and fatigues of government\nthan the pleasures of it, and if the state is in such a situation that\nit has something to dread, and that its surety comes from within, and\nits danger threatens from without. A certain confidence forms the glory\nand the safety of a monarchy, but a republic lives on its perils. The\nfear of the Persians kept the Greek states in strict obedience to\nrepublican laws. Carthage and Rome intimidated and strengthened each\nother. It is a strange thing, but democracies and aristocracies are like\nwater, which grows corrupt only when it is too long unmoved and\nuntroubled.\n\n\n_III.--On the Monarchy_\n\nIntermediary, subordinate, and dependent powers constitute the nature of\na monarchical government, in which a single man governs by means of\nfundamental laws. The most natural of intermediary, subordinate powers\nis that of a nobility. This is indeed an essential part of a monarchy,\nof which the maxim is: \"No king, no nobility; no nobility, no king.\"\n\nThere are some persons in certain countries of Europe who wish to\nabolish all the rights of the nobility. They do not see that they want\nto do what the English parliament did in the seventeenth century.\nAbolish in a monarchy the prerogatives of the lords, of the clergy, of\nthe gentry, and of the towns, and you will soon have either a purely\npopular government or a despotism.\n\nI am not greatly prepossessed in favour of the privileges of the clergy,\nbut I should like to see their jurisdiction clearly fixed once for all.\nIt is not a question of discussing if it be right to establish it, but\nof seeing if it is established, and if it forms part of the laws of the\ncountry, and of deciding if a loyal subject is not within his rights in\nupholding both the powers of his king and the limits which have from\ntime immemorial been set to that power. The power of the clergy is\ndangerous in a republic, but convenient in a monarchy, and especially in\na monarchy tending to despotism. Where would Spain and Portugal be,\nsince they have lost their laws, without this power which alone arrests\nthe arbitrary force of their kings?\n\nIn order to advance liberty, the English have destroyed all the\nintermediary powers that form their monarchy. They have good reason to\nguard and cherish this liberty. If ever they lose it, they will be one\nof the most enslaved races on earth.\n\nIt is not sufficient that there should be intermediary ranks in the\nmonarchy; there must also be a depository of laws. This depository\ncannot be found anywhere save in political corporations, which announce\nlaws when they are made, and recall them when they are forgotten. The\nignorance natural to nobility, its inattention, its contempt for civil\ngovernment, require that there should be a corporation which unceasingly\nrecovers laws from the dust in which they are buried.\n\nAs democracies are ruined by the populace stripping the senate, the\nmagistrates, and the judges of their functions, so monarchies decay when\nthe prerogatives of the higher classes and the privileges of towns are\nlittle by little destroyed. In the first case, things end in a despotism\nof the multitude; in the other, in the despotism of a single man.\n\nThe people of the ancient world had no knowledge of a monarchy founded\non a nobility, and still less knowledge of a monarchy founded on a\nlegislative corporation formed, as in England, by the representatives of\nthe people. On reading the admirable work of Tacitus on the ancient\nGermans, one sees that it is from them that the English have derived the\nidea of their political system. This fine form of government was\ndiscovered in the forests. It is based on a separation of the three\npowers found in every state--the legislative power, the executive power,\nand the judicial power. The first is in the hands of the parliament, the\nsecond is in the hands of the monarch, and the third in the hands of the\nmagistracy. The English people would lose their liberty if the same man,\nor the same corporation, or the lords, or the people themselves, were\npossessed of these three powers.\n\nBy their representative system the English have avoided the great defect\nof the ancient republics, in which the populace were allowed to take an\nactive part in the government.\n\nThere is in every state a number of persons distinguished by birth,\nwealth, or honour. If they were confounded among the people, and had\nthere only one vote like the rest, the common liberty would be to them a\nslavery, and they would have no interest in defending it, because most\nof the laws would be directed against them. The part they play in\nlegislation should, therefore, be proportionate to the other advantages\nwhich they have in the state. In England they rightly form a legislative\nbody, which has the power of arresting the enterprises of the people,\nin the same way as the people have the power of arresting theirs. A\nhouse of lords must be hereditary. It is so naturally, and, besides,\nthis gives it a very great interest in the preservation of its\nprerogatives, which, in a free country, must always be in danger. But as\nan hereditary power might be tempted to follow its private interests to\nthe neglect of the public welfare, it is necessary that in matters in\nwhich corruption can easily arise, such as matters relating to money\nbills, the House of Lords should have neither any initiating nor any\ncorrecting faculty; it should have only a power of veto and a power of\napproving, like the tribunes of ancient Rome.\n\nThe cabinet should not wield the executive power as well as the\nlegislative power. Unless the monarch himself retains the executive\npower, there is no liberty, for liberty depends upon each of the three\npowers being kept entirely separate. It is in this way that the balance\nof the constitution is preserved. As all human things have an end,\nEngland will one day lose its liberty, and perish. Rome, Sparta, and\nCarthage have not been able to last. England will perish when the\nlegislative power grows more corrupt than the executive power.\n\n\n_IV.--On Despotism_\n\nFrom the nature of despotism it follows that a despot gives the\ngovernment into the hands of another man. A creature whose five senses\nare always telling him that he is everything and that other men are\nnothing is naturally idle, ignorant, and pleasure-seeking. He therefore\nabandons the control of affairs. But if he entrusted them to several\npersons there would be disputes among them, and the despot would be put\nto the trouble of interfering in their intrigues. The easier way,\ntherefore, is for him to surrender all administration to a vizier, and\ngive him full power. The establishment of a vizier is a fundamental law\nof despotism. The more people a despot has to govern, the less he thinks\nof governing them; the greater the business of the state becomes, the\nless trouble he takes to deliberate upon it.\n\nA despotic state continually grows corrupt because it is corrupt in its\nnature. Other forms of government perish through particular accidents; a\ndespotism perishes inwardly, even when several accidental causes seem to\nsupport it.\n\nIt is only maintained when certain circumstances derived from the\nclimate, the religion, the situation, or the genius of a people compel\nit to observe some order and submit to some regulation. These things\ncompel it, but do not change its nature; its ferocity remains, though\nfor a time it is tamed.\n\n\n\n\nSIR THOMAS MORE\n\nUtopia: Nowhere Land\n\n     Thomas More was born in London on February 7, 1478; his father, Sir\n     John, was a magistrate. The boy was placed in the household of the\n     Chancellor, Cardinal Morton, and went to Oxford. The young man had\n     thoughts of entering the religious life, but finally chose the law.\n     His most intimate friend was the great Dean Colet, and his\n     relations with Erasmus, the chief of the Humanists, were of the\n     most affectionate kind. He stood with these two in the forefront of\n     the great effort for the intellectual and moral reform of the\n     Church, which was soon to be overwhelmed in the political and\n     theological Reformation. Drawn into public life by Henry VIII., he\n     became Chancellor after the fall of Wolsey, later resigned on a\n     point of conscience, and was finally beheaded on a charge of\n     treason on July 7, 1535, with Bishop Fisher, virtually for refusing\n     to acknowledge the secular supremacy over the Church. In 1886 he\n     was beatified. The \"Utopia: Nowhere Land,\" was written in 1516, in\n     Latin. The English version is the rendering of Ralphe Robynson,\n     published in 1551. The three factors in its production were, the\n     discoveries in the New World, Plato's \"Republic,\" and More's\n     observation of European affairs.\n\n\n_I.--How Master More Met Master Raphael Hythloday_\n\nThe most victorious and triumphant king of England, Henry VIII., of that\ntime, for the debatement of certain weighty matters sent me ambassador\ninto Flanders, joined in commission with Cuthbert Tunstall, whose virtue\nand learning be of more excellency than that I am able to praise them.\nAnd whiles I was abiding at Antwerp, oftentimes among other did visit me\none Peter Gyles, a citizen thereof, whom one day I chanced to espy\ntalking with a stranger, with whom he brought me to speech. Which\nRaphael Hythloday had voyaged with Master Amerigo Vespucci, but parting\nfrom him had seen many lands, and so returned home by way of Taprobane\nand Calicut.\n\nNow, as he told us, he had found great and wide deserts and\nwildernesses inhabited with wild beasts and serpents, but also towns and\ncities and weal-publiques full of people governed by good and wholesome\nlaws, beside many other that were fond and foolish. Then I urging him\nthat, both by learning and experience, he might be any king's counsellor\nfor the weal-publique----\n\n\"You be deceived,\" quoth he. \"For the most part all princes have more\ndelights in warlike matters and feats of chivalry than in the good feats\nof peace.\" Then he speaking of England, \"Have you been in our country,\nsir?\" quoth I. \"Yea, forsooth,\" quoth he, \"and there was I much bound\nand beholden to John Norton, at that time cardinal, archbishop, and Lord\nChancellor, in whose counsel the king put much trust.\n\n\"Now,\" quoth he, \"one day as I sat at his table, there was a layman\ncunning in the law who began to praise the rigorous justice that was\ndone upon felons, and to marvel how thieves were nevertheless so rife.\"\n\n\"'Nay, sir,' said I; 'but the punishment passeth the limits of justice.\nFor simple theft is not so great an offence that it ought to be punished\nwith death, nor doth that refrain them, since they cannot live but by\nthieving. There be many servitors of idle gentlemen, who, when their\nmaster is dead, and they be thrust forth, have no craft whereby to earn\ntheir bread, nor can find other service, who must either starve for\nhunger or manfully play the thieves.\n\n\"'Moreover, look how your sheep do consume and devour whole fields,\nhouses, and cities. For noblemen and gentlemen, yea, and certain abbots,\nholy men, God wot, where groweth the finest wool, do enclose all in\npastures, pluck down towns, and leave nought standing but only the\nchurch, to make it a sheep-house. Whereby the husbandmen are thrust out\nof their own! and then what can they do else but steal, and then justly,\nGod wot, be hanged? Furthermore, victuals and other matters are dearer,\nseeing rich men buy up all, and with their monopoly keep the market as\nit please them. Unless you find a remedy for these enormities, you shall\nin vain vaunt yourselves of executing justice upon felons.\n\n\"'Beside, it is a pernicious thing that a thief and a murderer should\nsuffer the like punishment, seeing that thereby the thief is rather\nprovoked to kill. But among the polylerytes in Persia there is a custom\nthat they which be convict of felony are condemned to be common\nlabourers, yet not harshly entreated, but condemned to death if they\nseek to run away. For they are also apparelled all alike, and to aid\nthem is servitude for a free man.'\n\n\"Now the cardinal pronounced that this were a good order to take with\nvagabonds. But a certain parasite sayeth in jest that this were then an\nexcellent order to take with the friars, seeing that they were the\nveriest vagabonds that be; a friar thereupon took the jest in very ill\npart, and could not refrain himself from calling the fellow ribald,\nvillain, and the son of perdition; whereat the jester became a scoffer\nindeed, for he could play a part in that play, no man better, making the\nfriar more foolishly wrath than before.\n\n\"Now, none of them would have harkened to my counsel until the cardinal\ndid approve it. So that if I were sitting in counsel with the French\nking, whose counsellors were all urging him to war; and should I counsel\nhim not to meddle with Italy, but rather to tarry still at home; and\nshould propose to him the decrees of the Achoricus which dwell over\nagainst the Island of Utopia, who having by war conquered a new kingdom\nfor their prince, constrained him to be content with his old kingdom,\nand give over the new one to one of his friends; this, mine advice,\nMaster More, how think you it would be heard and taken?\"\n\n\"So God help me, not very thankfully,\" quoth I.\n\n\"Howbeit, Master More,\" quoth he, \"doubtless wheresoever possessions be\nprivate, where money beareth all the stroke, it is almost impossible\nthat the weal-publique may be justly governed and prosperously flourish.\nAnd when I consider the wise and goodly ordinances of the Utopians,\namong whom all things being in common, every man hath abundance of\neverything, yet are there very few laws; I do fully persuade myself that\nuntil this property be exiled and banished, perfect wealth shall never\nbe among men. Which if you had lived with me in Utopia, you would\ndoubtless grant.\"\n\n\"Therefore, Master Raphael,\" quoth I, \"pray you describe unto us this\nland.\"\n\n\n_II.--Of the Island of Utopia, and the Customs of Its People_\n\nThe Island of Utopia is shaped like a new moon, in breadth at the middle\n200 miles, narrowing to the tips, which fetch about a compass of 500\nmiles, and are sundered by eleven miles, having in the space between\nthem a high rock; so that that whole coast is a great haven, but the way\ninto it is securely guarded by hidden rocks, of which only the Utopians\nhave the secret. It hath fifty-four large and fair cities, all built in\none fashion, and having like manners, institutions and laws. The chief\nand head is Amaurote, being the midmost. Every city hath an equal shire,\nwith farms thereon; and of the husbandmen, half return each year to the\ncity, their place being taken by a like number.\n\nThe city Amaurote standeth four square, upon the River Anyder, and\nanother lesser river floweth through it. The houses be fair and\ngorgeous, and the streets twenty foot broad; and at the back of each\nhouse a garden, whereby they set great store.\n\nEach thirty families choose an officer, called a Siphogrant, and over\nevery tenth Siphogrant is a Tranibore. The prince is chosen for life by\nthe Siphogrants. All other offices are yearly, but the Tranibores are\nnot lightly changed. The prince and the Tranibores hold council every\nthird day, each day with two different Siphogrants. They discuss no\nmatter on the day that it is first brought forward. All the people are\nexpert in husbandry, but each hath thereto his own proper craft of\nmasonry or cloth-working, or some other; and, for the most part, that of\nhis father. They work only six hours, which is enough--yea, and more for\nthe store and abundance of things requisite, because all do work. There\nbe none that are idle or busied about unprofitable occupations. In all\nthat city and shire there be scarce 500 persons that be licensed from\nlabour, that be neither too old nor too weak to work. Such be they that\nhave license to learning in place of work. Out of which learned order be\nchosen ambassadors, priests, tranibores, and the prince.\n\nFor their clothing, they wear garments of skins for work, and woollen\ncloaks of one fashion and of the natural colour; and for the linen, they\ncare only for the whiteness, and not the fineness; wherefore their\napparel is of small cost.\n\nThe city consisteth of families; and for each family the law is there be\nnot fewer than ten children, nor more than sixteen of about thirteen\nyears. Which numbers they maintain by taking from one family and adding\nto another, or one city and another, or by their foreign cities which\nthey have in the waste places of neighbour lands. The eldest citizen\nruleth the family. In each quarter of the city is a market-place,\nwhither is brought the work of each family, and each taketh away that he\nneedeth, without money or exchange.\n\nTo every thirty families there is a hall, whither cometh the whole\nSiphogranty at the set hour of dinner or supper; and a nursery thereto.\nBut in the country they dine and sup in their own houses. If any desire\nto visit another city, the prince giveth letters of licence. But\nwherever he goeth he must work the allotted task. All be partners, so\nthat none may be poor or needy; and all the cities do send to the common\ncouncil at Amaurote, so that what one lacketh another maketh good out of\nits abundance.\n\nTheir superfluities they exchange with other lands for what they\nthemselves lack, which is little but iron; or for money, which they use\nbut seldom, and that for the hiring of soldiers. Of gold and silver they\nmake not rich vessels, but mean utensils, fetters, and gyves; and jewels\nand precious stones they make toys for children.\n\nAlthough there be not many that are appointed only to learning, yet all\nin childhood be instructed therein; and the more part do bestow in\nlearning their spare hours. In the course of the stars and movings of\nthe heavenly sphere they be expert, but for the deceitful divination\nthereof they never dreamed of it.\n\nThey dispute of the qualities of the soul and reason of virtue, and of\npleasure wherein they think the felicity of man to rest; but that the\nsoul is immortal, and by the bountiful goodness of God ordained to\nfelicity, and to our virtues and good deeds rewards be appointed\nhereafter, and to evil deeds punishments. Which principles, if they were\ndisannulled, there is no man but would diligently pursue pleasure by\nright or wrong. But now felicity resteth only in that pleasure that is\ngood and honest. Virtue they define to be life according to nature,\nwhich prescribeth us a joyful life.\n\nBut of what they call counterfeit pleasures they make naught; as of\npride in apparel and gems, or in vain honours; or of dicing; or hunting,\nwhich they deem the most abject kind of butchery. But of true pleasures\nthey give to the soul intelligence and that pleasure that cometh of\ncontemplation of the truth, and the pleasant remembrance of the good\nlife past. Of pleasures of the body they count first those that be\nsensibly felt and perceived, and thereto the body's health, which\nlacking, there is no place for any pleasure. But chiefest they hold the\npleasures of the mind, the consciousness of virtue and the good life.\nMaking little of the pleasures of appetite, they yet count it madness to\nreject the same for a vain shadow of virtue.\n\nFor bondmen, they have malefactors of their own people, criminals\ncondemned to death in other lands, or poor labourers of other lands who,\nof their own free will, choose rather to be in bondage with them. The\nsick they tend with great affection; but, if the disease be not only\nincurable but full of anguish, the priests exhort them that they should\nwillingly die, but cause him not to die against his will. The women\nmarry not before eighteen years, and the men four years later. But if\none have offended before marriage, he or she whether it be, is sharply\npunished. And before marriage the man and the woman are showed each to\nthe other by discreet persons. To mock a man for his deformity is\ncounted great dishonesty and reproach.\n\nThey do not only fear their people from doing evil by punishments, but\nalso allure them to virtue with rewards of honour. They have but few\nlaws, reproving other nations that innumerable books of laws and\nexpositions upon the same be not sufficient. Furthermore, they banish\nall such as do craftily handle the laws, but think it meet that every\nman should plead his own matter.\n\n\n_III.--Of the Wars and the Religion of the Utopians_\n\nAs touching leagues they never make one with any nation, putting no\ntrust therein; seeing the more and holier ceremonies the league is knit\nup with, the sooner it is broken. Who perchance would change their minds\nif they lived here? But they be of opinion that no man should be\ncounted an enemy who hath done no injury, and that the fellowship of\nnature is a strong league.\n\nThey count nothing so much against glory as glory gotten in war. And\nthough they do daily practise themselves in the discipline of war, they\ngo not to battle but in defence of their own country or their friends,\nor to right some assured wrong. They are ashamed to win the victory with\nmuch bloodshed, but rejoice if they vanquish their enemies by craft.\nThey set a great price upon the life or person of the enemy's prince and\nof other chief adversaries, counting that they thereby save the lives of\nmany of both parts that had otherwise been slain; and stir up neighbour\npeoples against them. They lure soldiers out of all countries to do\nbattle with them, and especially savage and fierce people called the\nZapoletes, giving them greater wages than any other nation will. But of\ntheir own people they thrust not forth to battle any against his will;\nyet if women be willing, they do in set field stand every one by her\nhusband's side, and each man is compassed about by his own kinsfolk; and\nthey be themselves stout and hardy and disdainful to be conquered. It is\nhard to say whether they be craftier in laying ambush, or wittier in\navoiding the same. Their weapons be arrows, and at handstrokes not\nswords but pole-axes; and engines for war they devise and invent\nwondrous wittily.\n\nThere be divers kinds of religion. Some worship for God the sun, some\nthe moon; there be that give worship to a man that was once of the most\nexcellent virtue; some believe that there is a certain godly power\nunknown, everlasting, incomprehensible; but all believe that there is\none God, Maker and Ruler of the whole world. But after they heard us\nspeak of Christ, with glad minds they agreed unto the same. And this is\none of their ancientest laws, that no man shall be blamed for reasoning\nin the maintenance of his own religion, giving to every man free liberty\nto believe what he would. Saving that none should conceive so base and\nvile an opinion as to think that souls do perish with the body, or that\nthe world runneth at all adventures, governed by no divine providence.\n\nThey have priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore very few. Both\nchildhood and youth are instructed of them, not more in learning than in\ngood manners.\n\n\"This is that order of the commonwealth which, in my judgment, is not\nonly the best, but also that which alone of good right may claim and\ntake upon it the name of a commonwealth or weal-publique,\" quoth he.\nBut, in the meantime, I, Thomas More, as I cannot agree and consent to\nall things that he said, so must I needs confess and grant that many\nthings be in the Utopian weal-publique which in our cities I may rather\nwish for than hope after.\n\n\n\n\nTHOMAS PAINE\n\nThe Rights of Man\n\n     \"The Rights of Man\" by Thomas Paine (see RELIGION, Vol. XIII) was\n     an answer to Burke's attack on the French Revolution. It was\n     published in two parts in 1790 and 1792, and is an earnest and\n     courageous exposition of Paine's revolutionary opinions, and from\n     that day to this has played no small part in moulding public\n     thought. The extreme candour of his observations on monarchy led to\n     a prosecution, and he had to fly to France. There he pleaded for\n     the life of Louis XVI., and was imprisoned for ten months during\n     the Terror. He left France bitterly disappointed with the failure\n     of the republic, and passed the rest of his days in America.\n     \"Paine's ignorance,\" says Sir Leslie Stephen, \"was vast, and his\n     language brutal; but he had the gift of a true demagogue--the power\n     of wielding a fine, vigorous English.\"\n\n\n_I.--Natural and Civil Rights_\n\nAmong the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke or\nirritate each other, Mr. Burke's pamphlet in the French revolution is an\nextraordinary instance. There is scarcely an epithet of abuse in the\nEnglish language with which he has not loaded the French nation and the\nNational Assembly. Considered as an attempt at political argument, his\nwork is a pathless wilderness of rhapsodies, in which he asserts\nwhatever he pleases without offering either evidence or reasons for so\ndoing.\n\nWith his usual outrage, he abuses the Declaration of the Rights of Man\npublished by the National Assembly as the basis of the French\nconstitution. But does he mean to deny that _man_ has any rights? If he\ndoes, then he must mean that there are no such things as rights\nanywhere; for who is there in the world but man? But if Mr. Burke means\nto admit that man has rights, the question then will be: What are those\nrights and how came man by them originally?\n\nThe error of those who reason by precedents drawn from antiquity\nrespecting the rights of man is that they do not go far enough into\nantiquity; they stop in some of the intermediate stages, and produce\nwhat was then done as a rule for the present day. Mr. Burke, for\nexample, would have the English nation submit themselves to their\nmonarchs for ever, because an English Parliament did make such a\nsubmission to William and Mary, not only on behalf of the people then\nliving, but on behalf of their heirs and posterities--as if any\nparliament had the right of binding and controlling posterity, or of\ncommanding for ever how the world should be governed. If antiquity is to\nbe authority, a thousand such authorities may be produced, successively\ncontradicting each other; but if we proceed on, we shall at last come\nout right; we shall come to the time when man came from the hand of his\nMaker. What was he then? Man! Man was his high and only title, and a\nhigher cannot be given him.\n\nAll histories of creation agree in establishing one point, the unity of\nman, by which I mean that men are all of one degree, and that all men\nare born equal, and with equal natural rights. These natural rights are\nthe foundation of all their civil rights.\n\nA few words will explain this: Natural rights are those which appertain\nto man in right of his existence. Of this kind are the rights of the\nmind, and also those rights of acting as an individual for his own\nhappiness, which are not injurious to the natural rights of others.\nCivil rights are those which appertain to man in right of his being a\nmember of society. Every civil right has for its foundation some natural\nright pre-existing in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which his\nindividual power is not, in all cases, sufficiently competent. Of this\nkind are all those which relate to security and protection.\n\nIt follows, then, that the power produced from the aggregate of natural\nrights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot be applied to\ninvade the natural rights which are retained in the individual, and in\nwhich the power to execute is as perfect as the right itself.\n\nLet us now apply these principles to governments. These may all be\ncomprehended under three heads: First, superstition; secondly, power;\nthirdly, the common interest of society and the common rights of man.\n\nWhen a set of artful men pretended to hold intercourse with the Deity,\nas familiarly as they now march up the back stairs in European courts,\nthe world was completely under the government of superstition. This sort\nof government lasted as long as this sort of superstition lasted.\n\nAfter these, a race of conquerors arose, whose government, like that of\nWilliam the Conqueror, was founded in power. Governments thus\nestablished last as long as the power to support them lasts; but, that\nthey might avail themselves of every engine in their favour, they united\nfraud to force, and set up an idol which they called _Divine Right_, and\nwhich twisted itself afterwards into an idol of another shape, called\n_Church and State_. The key of St. Peter and the key of the treasury\nbecame quartered on one another, and the wondering cheated multitude\nworshipped the invention.\n\nWe have now to review the governments which arise out of society. If we\ntrace government to its origin, we discover that governments must have\narisen either _out_ of the people or over the people. In those which\nhave arisen out of the people, the individuals themselves, each in his\nown personal and sovereign right, have entered into a compact with each\nother to produce a government; and this is the only mode in which\ngovernments have a right to arise.\n\nThis compact is the constitution, and a constitution is not a thing in\nname only, but in fact. Wherever it cannot be produced in a visible\nform, there is none. A constitution is a thing antecedent to government,\nand a government is only its creature. The constitution of a country is\nnot the act of its government, but of the people constituting its\ngovernment.\n\nCan, then, Mr. Burke produce the English constitution? He cannot, for no\nsuch thing exists, nor ever did exist. The English government is one of\nthose which arose out of a conquest, and not out of society, and\nconsequently it arose over the people; and though it has been much\nmodified since the time of William the Conqueror, the country has never\nyet regenerated itself, and is therefore without a constitution.\n\n\n_II.--France and England Compared_\n\nI now proceed to draw some comparisons between the French constitution\nand the governmental usages in England.\n\nThe French constitution says that every man who pays a tax of sixty sous\nper annum (2s. 6d., English) is an elector. What will Mr. Burke place\nagainst this? Can anything be more limited, and at the same time more\ncapricious, than the qualifications of electors are in England?\n\nThe French constitution says that the National Assembly shall be elected\nevery two years. What will Mr. Burke place against this? Why, that the\nnation has no right at all in the case, and that the government is\nperfectly arbitrary with respect to this point.\n\nThe French constitution says there shall be no game laws, and no\nmonopolies of any kind. What will Mr. Burke say to this? In England,\ngame is made the property of those at whose expense it is not fed; and\nwith respect to monopolies, every chartered town is an aristocratical\nmonopoly in itself, and the qualification of electors proceeds out of\nthese monopolies. Is this freedom? Is this what Mr. Burke means by a\nconstitution?\n\nThe French constitution says that to preserve the national\nrepresentation from being corrupt no member of the National Assembly\nshall be an officer of the government, a placeman, or a pensioner. What\nwill Mr. Burke place against this? I will whisper his answer: \"Loaves\nand Fishes.\" Ah! this government of loaves and fishes has more mischief\nin it than people have yet reflected on. The English Parliament is\nsupposed to hold the national purse in trust for the nation. But if\nthose who vote the supplies are the same persons who receive the\nsupplies when voted, and are to account for the expenditure of those\nsupplies to those who voted them, it is themselves accountable to\nthemselves, and the comedy of errors concludes with the pantomime of\nhush. Neither the ministerial party nor the opposition will touch upon\nthis case. The national purse is the common hack which each mounts upon.\nThey order these things better in France.\n\nThe French constitution says that the right of war and peace is in the\nnation. Where else should it reside but in those who are to pay the\nexpense? In England this right is said to reside in a metaphor shown at\nthe Tower for sixpence or a shilling a head.\n\nIt may with reason be said that in the manner the English nation is\nrepresented it signifies not where the right resides, whether in the\ncrown or in the parliament. War is the common harvest of all those who\nparticipate in the division and expenditure of public money in all\ncountries. In reviewing the history of the English Government, an\nimpartial bystander would declare that taxes were not raised to carry on\nwars, but that wars were raised to carry on taxes.\n\nThe French constitution says, \"There shall be no titles\"; and, of\nconsequence, \"nobility\" is done away, and the peer is exalted into man.\n\nTitles are but nicknames, and every nickname is a title. The thing is\nperfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a sort of foppery in the\nhuman character which degrades it. If no mischief had annexed itself to\nthe folly of titles, they would not have been worth a serious and\nformal destruction. Let us, then, examine the grounds upon which the\nFrench constitution has resolved against having a house of peers in\nFrance.\n\nBecause, in the first place, aristocracy is kept up by family tyranny\nand injustice, due to the unnatural and iniquitous law of primogeniture.\n\nSecondly, because the idea of hereditary legislators is as inconsistent\nas that of hereditary judges or hereditary juries; and as absurd as an\nhereditary mathematician, or an hereditary wise man; and as ridiculous\nas an hereditary poet-laureate.\n\nThirdly, because a body of men, holding themselves accountable to\nnobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody.\n\nFourthly, because it is continuing the uncivilised principle of\ngovernment founded in conquest, and the base idea of man having property\nin man, and governing him by personal right.\n\nThe French constitution hath abolished or renounced toleration and\nintolerance also, and hath established universal right of conscience.\n\nToleration is not the opposite of intolerance, but is the counterfeit of\nit. Both are despotisms. The one assumes to itself the right of\nwithholding liberty of conscience, and the other of granting it. Who art\nthou, vain dust and ashes! by whatever name thou art called, whether a\nking, a bishop, a church, or a state, a parliament, or anything else,\nthat obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man and its\nMaker? Mind thine own concerns. If he believes not as thou believest, it\nis a proof that thou believest not as he believes, and there is no\nearthly power can determine between you.\n\nThe opinions of men with respect to government are changing fast in all\ncountries. The revolutions of America and France have thrown a beam of\nlight over the world, which reaches into men. Ignorance is of a\npeculiar nature; once dispelled, it is impossible to re-establish it.\nIt is not originally a thing of itself, but is only the absence of\nknowledge; and though man may be kept ignorant, he cannot be made\nignorant.\n\nWhen we survey the wretched condition of man, under the monarchical and\nhereditary systems of government, dragged from his home by one power, or\ndriven by another, and impoverished by taxes more than by enemies, it\nbecomes evident that these systems are bad, and that a general\nrevolution in the principle and construction of governments is\nnecessary.\n\nAnd it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened state of\nmankind, that hereditary governments are verging to their decline, and\nthat revolutions on the broad basis of national sovereignty and\ngovernment by representation are making their way in Europe; it would be\nan act of wisdom to anticipate their approach and produce revolutions by\nreason and accommodation, rather than commit them to the issue of\nconvulsions.\n\n\n_III.--The Old and New Systems_\n\nThe danger to which the success of revolutions is most exposed is in\nattempting them before the principles on which they proceed, and the\nadvantages to result from them are sufficiently understood. Almost\neverything appertaining to the circumstances of a nation has been\nabsorbed and confounded under the general and mysterious word\ngovernment. It may, therefore, be of use in this day of revolutions to\ndiscriminate between those things which are the effect of government,\nand those which are not.\n\nGreat part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of\ngovernment. It has its origin in the principles of society and the\nnatural constitution of man. The mutual dependence and reciprocal\ninterest which man has upon man, and all the parts of civilised\ncommunity upon each other, create that great chain of connection which\nholds it together. In fine, society performs for itself almost\neverything which is ascribed to government, which is no farther\nnecessary than to supply the few cases to which society and civilisation\nare not conveniently competent.\n\nThe more perfect civilisation is, the less occasion has it for\ngovernment, because the more does it regulate its own affairs, and\ngovern itself. All the great laws of society are laws of nature. They\nare followed and obeyed because it is the interest of the parties to do\nso, and not on account of any formal laws their governments may impose.\nBut how often is the natural propensity to society disturbed or\ndestroyed by the operations of government! When the latter, instead of\nbeing ingrafted on the principles of the former, assumes to exist for\nitself, and acts by partialities of favour and oppression, it becomes\nthe cause of the mischiefs it ought to prevent.\n\nIt is impossible that such governments as have hitherto existed in the\nworld would have commenced by any other means than a total violation of\nevery principle, sacred and moral. The obscurity in which the origin of\nall the present old governments is buried implies the iniquity and\ndisgrace with which they began. What scenes of horror present themselves\nin contemplating the character and reviewing the history of such\ngovernments! If we would delineate human nature with a baseness of heart\nand hypocrisy of countenance that reflection would shudder at and\nhumanity disown, they are kings, courts, and cabinets that must sit for\nthe portrait. Man, naturally as he is, with all his faults about him, is\nnot up to the character.\n\nGovernment on the old system is an assumption of power, for the\naggrandisement of itself; on the new a delegation of power for the\ncommon benefit of society. The one now called the old is hereditary,\neither in whole or in part, and the new is entirely representative. It\nrejects all hereditary government:\n\nFirst, as being an imposition on mankind.\n\nSecondly, as inadequate to the purposes for which government is\nnecessary.\n\nAll hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. To inherit a\ngovernment is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and herds.\nKings succeed each other, not as rationals, but as animals. It signifies\nnot what their mental or moral characters are. Monarchical government\nappears under all the various characters of childhood, decrepitude,\ndotage; a thing at nurse, in leading-strings, or in crutches. In short,\nwe cannot conceive a more ridiculous figure of government than\nhereditary succession. By continuing this absurdity, man is perpetually\nin contradiction with himself; he may accept for a king, or a chief\nmagistrate, or a legislator a person whom he would not elect for a\nconstable.\n\nThe representative system takes society and civilisation for its basis;\nnature, reason, and experience for its guide. The original simple\ndemocracy was society governing itself without the aid of secondary\nmeans. By ingrafting representation upon democracy we arrive at a system\nof government capable of embracing and confederating all the various\ninterests and every extent of territory and population; and that also\nwith advantages as much inferior to hereditary government, as the\nrepublic of letters is to hereditary literature.\n\nConsidering government in the only light in which it should be\nconsidered, that of a national association, it ought to be constructed\nas not to be disordered by any accident happening among the parts, and,\ntherefore, no extraordinary power should be lodged in the hands of any\nindividual. Monarchy would not have continued so many ages in the world\nhad it not been for the abuses it protects. It is the master-fraud which\nshelters all others. By admitting a participation of the spoil, it makes\nitself friends; and when it ceases to do this it will cease to be the\nidol of courtiers.\n\nOne of the greatest improvements that have been made for the perpetual\nsecurity and progress of constitutional liberty, is the provision which\nthe new constitutions make for occasionally revising, altering, and\namending them. The best constitutions that could now be devised\nconsistently with the condition of the present moment, may be far short\nof that excellence which a few years may afford. There is a morning of\nreason rising upon man on the subject of governments that has not\nappeared before. Just emerging from such a barbarous condition, it is\ntoo soon to determine to what extent of improvement government may yet\nbe carried. For what we can foresee, all Europe may form but one great\nrepublic, and man be free of the whole.\n\n\n_IV.--The Reform of England_\n\nAs it is necessary to include England in the prospect of general\nreformation, it is proper to inquire into the defects of its government.\nIt is only by each nation reforming its own, that the whole can be\nimproved and the full benefit of reformation enjoyed.\n\nWhen in countries that are called civilised we see age going to the\nworkhouse and youth to the gallows something must be wrong in the system\nof government. Why is it that scarcely any are executed but the poor?\nThe fact is a proof, among other things, of a wretchedness in their\ncondition. Bred up without morals, and cast upon the world without a\nprospect, they are the exposed sacrifice of vice and legal barbarity.\n\nThe first defect of English government I shall mention is the evil of\nthose Gothic institutions, the corporation towns. As one of the houses\nof the English Parliament is, in a great measure, made up of elections\nfrom these corporations, and as it is unnatural that a pure stream\nshould flow from a foul fountain, its vices are but a continuation of\nthe vices of its origin. A man of moral honour and good political\nprinciples cannot submit to the mean drudgery and disgraceful arts by\nwhich such elections are carried.\n\nI proceed in the next place to the aristocracy. The house of peers is\nsimply a combination of persons in one common interest. No better reason\ncan be given why a house of legislation should be composed entirely of\nmen whose occupation consists in letting landed property, than why it\nshould be composed of brewers, of bakers, or any other separate class of\nmen. What right has the landed interest to a distinct representation\nfrom the general interest of the nation? The only use to be made of its\npower is to ward off the taxes from itself, and to throw the burden upon\nsuch articles of consumption by which itself would be least affected.\n\nI proceed to what is called the crown. It signifies a nominal office of\na million sterling a year, the business of which consists in receiving\nthe money. Whether the person be wise or foolish, sane or insane, a\nnative or a foreigner, matters not. The hazard to which this office is\nexposed in all countries is not from anything that can happen to the\nman, but from what may happen to the nation--the danger of its coming to\nits senses.\n\nI shall now turn to the matter of lessening the burden of taxes. The\namount of taxation now levied may be taken in round numbers at\nL17,000,000, nine millions of which are appropriated to the payment of\ninterest on the national debt, and eight millions to the current\nexpenses of each year.\n\nAll circumstances taken together, arising from the French revolution,\nfrom the approaching harmony of the two nations, the abolition of court\nintrigue on both sides, and the progress of knowledge in the science of\ngoverning, the annual expenditure might be put back to one million and a\nhalf--half a million each for Navy, Army, and expenses of government.\n\nThree hundred representatives fairly elected are sufficient for all the\npurposes to which legislation can apply. They may be divided into two\nor three houses, or meet in one, as in France. If an allowance of L500\nper annum were made to each representative, the yearly cost would be\nL15,000. The expense of the official departments could not reasonably\nexceed L425,000. All revenue officers are paid out of the monies they\ncollect, and therefore are not in this estimation.\n\nTaking one million and a half as a sufficient peace establishment for\nall the honest purposes of government, there will remain a surplus of\nupwards of six millions out of the present current expenses. How is this\nsurplus to be disposed of?\n\nThe first step would be to abolish the poor rates entirely, and in lieu\nthereof to make a remission of taxes to the poor of double the amount of\nthe present poor rates--_viz._, four millions annually out of the\nsurplus taxes. This money could be distributed so as to provide L4\nannually per head for the support of children of poor families, and to\nprovide also for the cost of education of over a million children; to\ngive annuities of L10 each for the aged poor over sixty, and of L6 each\nfor the poor over fifty; to give donations of L1 each on occasions of\nbirths in poor families, and marriages of the poor; to make allowances\nfor funeral expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a\ndistance from their friends; and to furnish employment for the casual\npoor of the metropolis, where modes of relief are necessary that are not\nrequired in the country.\n\nOf the sum remaining after these deductions, half a million should be\nspent in pensioning disbanded soldiers and in increasing the pay of the\nsoldiers who shall remain. The burdensome house and window tax,\namounting to over half a million annually, should be taken off. There\nyet remains over a million surplus, which might be used for special\npurposes, or applied to relief of taxation as circumstances require.\n\nFor the commutation tax there should be substituted an estate tax\nrising from 3d. in the pound on the first L500 to 20s. in the pound on\nthe twenty-third L1,000. Every thousand beyond the twenty-third would\nthus produce no profit but by dividing the estate, and thereby would be\nextirpated the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of\nprimogeniture.\n\nOf all nations in Europe there is none so much interested in the French\nrevolution as England. Enemies for ages, the opportunity now presents\nitself of amicably closing the scene and joining their efforts to reform\nthe rest of Europe. Such an alliance, together with that of Holland,\ncould propose with effect a general dismantling of all the navies in\nEurope, to a certain proportion to be agreed upon. This will save to\nFrance and England at least two million sterling annually to each, and\ntheir relative force would be in the same proportion as it is now.\nPeace, which costs nothing, is attended with infinitely more advantage\nthan any victory with all its expense.\n\nNever did so great an opportunity offer itself to England, and to all\nEurope, as is produced by the two revolutions of America and France. By\nthe former, freedom has a national champion in the western world, and by\nthe latter in Europe. When another nation shall join France, despotism\nand bad government will scarcely dare to appear. The present age will\nhereafter merit to be called the Age of Reason, and the present\ngeneration will appear to the future as the Adam of a new world.\n\n\n\n\nJEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU\n\nThe Social Contract\n\n     Rousseau's \"Social Contract\" (Contrat Social) is the most\n     influential treatise on politics written in modern times. As its\n     title implies, the work is an endeavour to place all government on\n     the consent, direct or implied, of the governed; how, through the\n     rearrangement of society, man may, in a sense, return to the law of\n     nature. \"Man is born free, and yet is everywhere in chains.\"\n     Logically, the \"Social Contract\" is full of gaping flaws. Like its\n     author's other books (see vol. vii, p. 176), it is an outpouring of\n     the heart very imperfectly regulated by a brilliant but eccentric\n     brain. As a political essay it is a tissue of fantastic arguments,\n     based on unreal hypotheses. But it set men's minds on fire; it was\n     the literary inspiration of one of the most tremendous events in\n     history, and those who would comprehend the French Revolution can\n     unravel many of its perplexities by studying the \"Social Contract.\"\n     After its publication Rousseau had to fly to England, where he\n     showed marked symptoms of insanity.\n\n\n_The Terms of the Contract_\n\nMy object is to discover whether, in civil polity, there is any\nlegitimate and definite canon of government, taking men as they are, and\nlaws as they might be. In this enquiry I shall uniformly try to\nreconcile that which is permitted by right with that which is prescribed\nby interest so as to avoid the clash of justice with utility.\n\nMan is born free, and yet is everywhere in fetters. He is governed,\nobliged to obey laws. What is it that legitimises the subjection of men\nto government? I think I can solve the problem.\n\nIt is not merely a matter of force; force is only the power of the\nstrongest, and must yield when a greater strength arises; there is here\nno question of right, but simply of might. But social order is a sacred\nright that serves as a base for all others. This right, however, does\nnot arise from nature; it is founded, therefore, upon conventions. It is\nnecessary, then, to know what these conventions are.\n\nThe explanation of social order is not to be found in the family tie,\nsince, when a child grows up it escapes from tutelage; the parents'\nright to exercise authority is only temporary. Nor can government be\nbased on servitude. An individual man may sell his liberty to another\nfor sustenance; but a nation cannot sell its liberty--it does not\nreceive sustenance from its ruler, but on the contrary sustains him. A\nbargain in which one party gains everything and the other loses\neverything is plainly no bargain at all, and no claim of right can be\nfounded on it. But even supposing that a people could thus give up its\nliberty to a ruler, it must be a people before it does so. The gift is a\ncivil act, which pre-supposes a public deliberation. Before, then, we\nexamine the act by which a people chooses a king, it would be well to\nexamine the act by which a people becomes a people; for this act, which\nnecessarily precedes the other, must be the true foundation of society.\n\nLet it be assumed that the obstacles which prejudice the conservation of\nman in a state of nature have prevailed by their resistance over the\nforces which each individual is able to employ to keep himself in that\nstate. The primitive condition can then no longer exist; mankind must\nchange it or perish.\n\nThe problem with which men are confronted under these circumstances may\nbe stated as follows--\"To find a form of association that defends and\nprotects with all the common force the person and property of each\npartner, and by which each partner, uniting himself with all the rest,\nnevertheless obeys only himself, and remains as free as heretofore.\"\nThis is the fundamental problem to which the Social Contract affords a\nsolution.\n\nThe clauses of this contract are determined by the nature of the act in\nsuch a manner that the least modification renders them of no effect; so\nthat, even when they have not been formally stated, they are everywhere\nthe same, everywhere tacitly acknowledged; and if the compact is\nviolated, everyone returns forthwith to his natural liberty.\n\nThe essence of the pact is the total and unreserved alienation by each\npartner of all his rights to the community as a whole. No individual can\nretain any rights that are not possessed equally by all other\nindividuals without the contract being thereby violated. Again, each\npartner, by yielding his rights to the community, yields them to no\nindividual, and thus in his relations with individuals he regains all\nthe rights he has sacrificed.\n\nThe compact, therefore, may be reduced to the following terms--\"each of\nus places in common his person and all his power under the supreme\ndirection of the general will; and we receive each member as an\nindivisible part of the whole.\"\n\nBy this act is created a moral and collective body, composed of as many\nmembers as the society has voices, receiving from this same act its\nunity, its common \"I,\" its life, and its will. This body is the\nRepublic, called by its members the state, the state when passive, the\nsovereign when active, a power in its relations with similar bodies. The\npartners are collectively called the people; they are citizens, as\nparticipants in the sovereign authority, and subjects as under\nobligation to the laws of the state.\n\nThe sovereign, then, is the general will; and each individual finds\nhimself engaged in a double relationship--as a member of the sovereign.\nTo the general will each partner must, by the terms of the contract,\nsubmit himself, without respect to his private inclinations. If he\nrefuses to submit, the sovereign will compel him to do so; which is as\nmuch as to say, that it will force him to be free; for in the supremacy\nof the general will lies the only guarantee to each citizen of freedom\nfrom personal dependence.\n\nBy passing, through the compact, from the state of nature to the civil\nstate, man substitutes justice for instinct in his conduct, and gives to\nhis actions a morality of which they were formerly devoid. What man\nloses by the contract is his natural liberty, and an illimitable right\nto all that tempts him and that he can obtain; what he gains is civil\nliberty, and a right of secure property in all that he possesses.\n\nI shall conclude this chapter with a remark which should serve as a\nbasis for the whole social system; it is that in place of destroying\nnatural liberty, the fundamental pact substitutes a moral and legitimate\nequality for the natural physical inequality between men, and that,\nwhile men may be unequal in strength and talent, they are all made equal\nby convention and right.\n\n\n_The Sovereign and the Laws_\n\nThe first and most important consequence of the principles above\nestablished is that only the general will can direct the forces of the\nstate towards the aim of its institutions, which is the common good; for\nif the antagonism of particular interests has rendered necessary the\nestablishment of political societies, it is the accord of these\ninterests that has rendered such societies possible.\n\nI maintain, then, that sovereignty, being the exercise of the general\nwill, cannot be alienated, and that the sovereign, which is simply a\ncollective being, cannot be represented save by itself; it may transfer\nits power, but not its will.\n\nFor the same reason that sovereignty is inalienable, it is indivisible.\nFor the will is either general or it is not. If it is general, it is,\nwhen declared, an act of the people, and becomes law; if it is not\ngeneral, it is, when declared, merely an act of a particular person or\npersons, not of the sovereign.\n\nThe general will is infallible; but the deliberations of the people are\nnot necessarily so. The people may be, and often are, deceived.\nParticular interests may gain an advantage over general interests, and\nin that case the rival particular interests should be allowed to destroy\neach other, so that the true general interest may prevail. In order to\nsecure the clear expression of the general will, there should be no\nparties or groups within the state; if such groups exist, they should be\nmultiplied in number, so that no one party should get the upper hand.\n\nWhile, under the contract, each person alienates his power, his goods,\nand his liberty, he only alienates so much of these as are of concern to\nthe community; but it belongs to the sovereign to determine what is of\nconcern to the community and what is not.\n\nWhatsoever services a citizen owes to the state, he owes them directly\nthe sovereign demands them; but the sovereign, on its part, must not\ncharge its citizens with any obligations useless to the community; for,\nunder the law of reason, nothing is done without cause, any more than\nunder the law of nature. The general will, let it be repeated, tends\nalways to public utility, and is intrinsically incapable of demanding\nservices not useful to the public.\n\nA law is an expression of a general will, and must be general in its\nterms and import. The sovereign cannot legislate for part of the\nindividuals composing the state, for if it did so the general will would\nenter into a particular relation with particular people, and that is\ncontrary to its nature. The law may thus confer privileges, but must not\nname the persons to whom the privileges are to belong. It may establish\na royal government, but must not nominate a king. Any function relating\nto an individual object does not appertain to the legislative power. As\na popular assembly is not always enlightened, though the general will\nwhen properly ascertained, must be right--the service of a wise\nlegislator is necessary to draw up laws with the sovereign's approval.\n\nThe legislator, if he be truly wise, will not begin by writing down\nlaws very good in the abstract, but will first look about to see whether\nthe people for whom he intends them is capable of upholding them. He\nmust bear in mind many considerations--the situation of the country--the\nnature of the soil--the density of the population--the national history,\noccupations, and aptitudes.\n\nAmong these considerations one of the most important is the area of the\nstate. As nature has given limits to the stature of a normal man, beyond\nshe makes only giants or dwarfs, there are also limits beyond which a\nstate is, in the one direction, too large to be well-governed, and, in\nthe other, too small to maintain itself. There is in every body politic\na maximum of force which cannot be exceeded, and from which the state\noften falls away by the process of enlarging itself. The further the\nsocial bond is extended, the slacker it becomes; and, in general, a\nsmall state is proportionately stronger than a large one.\n\nIt is true that a state must have a certain breadth of base for the sake\nof solidity, and in order to resist violent shocks from without. But, on\nthe other hand, administration becomes more troublesome with distance.\nIt increases in burdensomeness, moreover, with the multiplication of\ndegrees. Each town, district, and province, has its administration, for\nwhich the people must pay. Finally, overwhelming everything, is the\nremote central administration. Again the government in a large state has\nless vigour and swiftness than in a smaller one; the people have less\naffection for their chiefs, their country, and for each other--since\nthey are, for the most part, strangers to each other. Uniform laws are\nnot suitable for diverse provinces. Yet diverse laws among people\nbelonging to the same state, breed weakness and confusion, for a healthy\nand well-knit constitution, in brief, it is wiser to count upon the\nvigour that is born of good government than upon the resources supplied\nby greatness of territory.\n\nThe greatest good of all, which should be the aim of every system of\nlegislation, may, on investigation, be reduced to two main objects,\n_liberty_ and _equality_: liberty, because all dependence of individuals\non other individuals is so much force taken away from the body of the\nstate; equality, because without it liberty cannot exist.\n\nBut these general objects of every good institution should be regulated\nin every country in accord with its situation and the character of its\ninhabitants. Nations with rich territories, for example, should be led\nto devote themselves to agriculture; manufacturing industry should be\nleft to sterile lands. That which renders the constitution of the state\ngenuinely solid and endurable is the judicious adaptation of laws to\nnatural conditions. A conflict between the two tends to destruction; but\nwhen the laws are in sympathy with the natural conditions, when they\nkeep in touch with them, and improve them, the state should prosper.\n\n\n_The Government_\n\nEvery free action has two causes which concur to produce it: one of them\nthe will that determines upon the act, the other the power that performs\nit. In the political body, one must distinguish between these two--the\nlegislative power and the executive power. The executive power cannot\nbelong to the sovereign, inasmuch as executive acts are particular acts,\naimed at individuals, and therefore, as already explained, outside the\nsovereign's sphere. Public force, then, requires an agent to apply it,\naccording to the direction of the general will. This is the government,\nerroneously confounded with the sovereign, of which it is only the\nminister. It is an intermediary body, established between subject and\nsovereign for their mutual correspondence, charged with the execution of\nthe laws and the maintenance of civil and political liberty.\n\nThe magistrates who form the government may be numerous, or may be few;\nand, generally speaking, the fewer the magistrates the stronger the\ngovernment. A magistrate has three wills: his personal will, his will as\none of the governors, and his will as a member of the sovereign. The\nlast named is the weakest, the first named the most powerful. If there\nis only one governor, the two stronger wills are concentrated in one\nman; with a few governors, they are concentrated in few men; when the\ngovernment is in the hands of all the citizens, the second will is\nobliterated, and the first widely distributed, and the government is\nconsequently weak. On the other hand, where there are many governors,\nthe government will be more readily kept in correspondence with the\ngeneral will. The duty of the legislator is to hit the happy medium at\nwhich the government, while not failing in strength, is yet properly\nsubmissive to the sovereign.\n\nThe sovereign may, in the first place, entrust the government to the\nwhole people, or the greater part of them; this form is called\ndemocracy. Or it may be placed in the hands of a minority, in which case\nit is called the aristocracy. Or it may be concentrated in the hands of\na single magistrate, from whom all the others derive their power; this\nis called monarchy.\n\nIt may be urged, on behalf of democracy, that those who make the laws\nknow better than anybody how they should be interpreted and\nadministered. But it is not right that the makers of the laws should\nexecute them, nor that the main body of the people should turn its\nattention from general views to particular objects. Nothing is more\ndangerous than the influence of private interests on public affairs. A\ntrue democracy, in the rigorous sense of the term, never has existed and\nnever will. A people composed of gods would govern itself\ndemocratically. A government so perfect is unsuited to men.\n\nThere are three forms of aristocracy: natural, elective, and hereditary.\nThe first is only adapted to simple people; the third is the worst of\nall governments; the second is the best of all. By the elective method,\nprobity, sagacity, experience, and all other sources of preference and\npublic esteem afford guarantees that the community will be wisely\ngoverned.\n\nThe first defect of monarchy is that it is to the interests of the\nmonarch to keep the people in a state of misery and weakness, so that\nthey may be unable to resist his power. Another is that under a monarchy\nthe posts of honour are occupied by bunglers and rascals who win their\npromotion by petty court intrigue. Again, an elective monarchy is a\ncause of disorder whenever a king dies; and a hereditary monarchy leaves\nthe character of the king to chance, which, as everything tends to\ndeprive of justice and reason a man trained to supreme rule, generally\ngoes astray.\n\nThe question as to whether there is any sign by which we can tell\nwhether a people is well or ill governed readily admits of a solution.\nWhat is the surest token of the preservation and prosperity of a\npolitical community? It is to be found in the population. Other things\nbeing equal, the government under which, without extrinsic devices,\nwithout naturalisation, without colonies, the citizens increase and\nmultiply, is infallibly the best. Calculators, it is therefore your\naffair; count, measure, compare.\n\nAs particular wills strive unceasingly against the general will, so the\ngovernment makes a continual attack upon the sovereign. If the\ngovernment is able, by its efforts, to usurp the sovereignty, then the\nsocial contract is broken; the citizens, who have by right been thereby\nrestored to their natural liberty, may be forced to obey the usurper,\nbut are under no other obligation to do so.\n\nSince the sovereign has no power except its legislative authority, it\nonly acts by laws; and since the laws are simply the authentic acts of\nthe general will, the sovereign cannot act save when the people are\nassembled. It is essential that there should be definitely fixed\nperiodic assemblies of the people that cannot be abolished or delayed,\nso that on the appointed day the people would be legitimately convoked\nby the law, without need of any formal summons.\n\nI may be asked, how are the citizens of a large state, composed of many\ncommunities, to hold frequent meetings? I reply that it is useless to\nquote the disadvantages of large states to one who considers that all\nstates ought to be small. But how are small states to defend themselves\nagainst large ones? By confederation, after the manner of the Greek and\nancient times, and the Dutch and Swiss in times more modern.\n\nBut between the sovereign authority and arbitrary government there is\nsometimes introduced a middle power of which I ought to speak. As soon\nas the public service ceases to be the main interest of the citizens, as\nsoon as they prefer to serve their purses rather than themselves, the\nstate is nearing its ruin. The weakening of patriotism, the activity of\nprivate interests, the immensity of states, conquests, and the abuse of\ngovernment, have led to the device of deputies or representatives of the\npeople in the national assemblies. But sovereignty cannot be\nrepresented, even as it cannot be alienated; it consists essentially in\nthe general will, and the will is not ascertainable by representation;\nit is either itself, or something else; there is no middle course. A law\nnot ratified by the people in person is no law at all. The English\npeople believes itself free, but it greatly deceives itself; it is not\nso, except during the election of members of parliament. As soon as they\nare elected, it is enslaved, it is nothing.\n\nHow are we to conceive the act by which the government is instituted?\nThe first process is the determination of the sovereign, that the\ngovernment shall assume such and such a form; this is the establishment\nof a law. The second process is the nomination by the people of those to\nwhom the government is to be entrusted; this is not a law, but a\nparticular act, a function of government.\n\nHow, then, can we have an act of government before the government\nexists? How can the people, who are only sovereigns or subjects, become\nmagistrates under certain circumstances? Here we discover one of those\nastonishing properties of the body politic, by which it reconciles\noperations apparently contradictory; for the process is accomplished by\na sudden conversion from sovereignty to democracy, so that, with no\nsensible change, and simply by a new relation of all to all, the\ncitizens become magistrates, pass from general to partiacts, and from\nthe law to its execution. In this manner the English House of Commons\nresolves itself into committee, and thus becomes a simple commission of\nthe sovereign court which it was a moment before; afterwards reporting\nto itself, as House of Commons, as to its proceedings in the form of a\ncommittee.\n\nIt is a logical sequence of the Social Contract that in the assemblies\nof the people the voice of the majority prevails. The only law requiring\nunanimity is the contract itself. But how can a man be free and at the\nsame time compelled to submit to laws to which he has not consented? I\nreply that when a law is proposed in the popular assembly, the question\nput is not precisely whether the citizens approve or disapprove of it,\nbut whether it conforms or not to the general will. The minority, then,\nsimply have it proved to them that they estimated the general will\nwrongly. Once it is declared, they are as citizens participants in it,\nand as subjects they must obey it.\n\n\n_Civil Religion_\n\nReligion, in its relation to society, can be divided into two kinds--the\nreligion of the man, and that of the citizen. The first, without\ntemples, without altars, without rites, limited to the inner and private\nworship of the Supreme God, and to the eternal duties of morality, is\nthe pure and simple religion of the Evangel, the true theism. The other,\nestablished in one country only, gives that country its own gods, its\nown tutelary patrons; it has its own dogmas and ritual, and all\nforeigners are deemed to be infidels. Such were all the religions of the\nprimitive peoples.\n\nThere is a third and more eccentric kind of religion, which, giving men\ntwo legislations, two chiefs, two countries, imposes upon them\ncontradictory duties, and forbids them from being at the same time\ndevotees and patriots. Such is the religion of the Llamas; such is the\nreligion of the Japanese; such is Roman Christianity.\n\nPolitically considered, all these kinds have their defects. The third is\nso manifestly bad that one need waste no time upon it. That which breaks\nsocial unity is worthless. The second is good, in that it inculcates\npatriotism, makes it a religious duty to serve the state. But it is\nfounded on error and falsehood, and renders its adherents superstitious,\nintolerant, and cruel. The first, the religion of man, or Christianity,\nis a sublime and true religion by which men, children of one god,\nacknowledge each other as brethren, and the society that unites them\ndoes not dissolve even with death. But Christianity of itself is not\ncalculated to strengthen a nation; it teaches submissiveness, and\ndiscourages patriotic pride.\n\nNow it is of prime importance to the state that each citizen should have\na religion which teaches him to love his duty; but the state is only\nconcerned with religion so far as it teaches morality and the duty of\nman towards his neighbour. Beyond that, the sovereign has nothing to do\nwith a man's religious opinions.\n\nThere should, therefore, be a purely civil profession of faith, the\narticles of which are to be fixed by the sovereign, not precisely as\nreligious dogmas, but as sentiments of sociability, without which it is\nimpossible for a man to be a good citizen or a faithful subject. Without\nbeing able to compel anybody to believe the articles, the sovereign\ncould banish from the state anybody who did not believe them; it can\nbanish him, not as impious, but as unsociable, as incapable of sincerely\nloving laws and justice. If anyone, having publicly accepted these\ndogmas, should act as if he did not believe them, he should be punished\nwith death; he would have committed the greatest of crimes, that of\nlying against the laws.\n\nThe dogmas of the civil religion should be simple, few, precise, without\nexplanations or commentaries. The existence of a powerful, wise,\nbenevolent, provident, and bountiful Deity, the life to come, the\nhappiness of the just, the punishment of the wicked, the sanctity of the\nsocial contract, and the laws; these are the positive dogmas. As for\nnegative dogmas, I limit them to one; I would have every good citizen\nforswear intolerance in religion.\n\nAfter having laid down the true principles of political rights, and\nsought to place the state upon its proper basis, it should remain to\nsupport it by its external relations--international law, commerce, and\nso on. But this forms a new aim too vast for my limited view; I have had\nto fix my eyes on objects nearer at hand.\n\n\n\n\nADAM SMITH\n\nWealth of Nations\n\n     Adam Smith, greatest of discoverers in the science of Political\n     Economy, was born at Kirkcaldy, Scotland, on June 5, 1723, after\n     the death of his father, who had been Comptroller of Customs at\n     that port. He was educated at Kirkcaldy Grammar School, then at\n     Glasgow University, and finally at Balliol College, Oxford, where\n     he studied for seven years. From 1748 he resided in Edinburgh,\n     where he made a close friendship with David Hume, and gave a course\n     of lectures on literature; in 1751 he became professor of Logic in\n     Glasgow University, and in the following year professor of Moral\n     Philosophy. A philosophical treatise entitled \"A Theory of Moral\n     Sentiments,\" published in 1759, has no longer any interest; but it\n     was during his thirteen years' residence in Glasgow that Smith\n     arrived at the principles formulated in his immortal \"Inquiry into\n     the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.\" He left Glasgow in\n     1763 to become the tutor of the youthful Duke of Buccleuch, with\n     whom he lived at Toulouse, Geneva and Paris, studying the politics\n     and economics of France on the eve of the Revolution. In 1766 Adam\n     Smith retired to Kirkcaldy, with an annuity from the Buccleuch\n     family; devoted himself to his life's work; and in 1776 published\n     the \"Wealth of Nations,\" which at once achieved a permanent\n     reputation. The author was appointed, in 1778, Commissioner of\n     Customs for Scotland, and died on July 17, 1790. Adam Smith was a\n     man of vast learning and of great simplicity and kindliness of\n     character. His reasonings have had vast influence not only on the\n     science of Economics but also on practical politics; his powerful\n     defence of free trade, and his indictment of the East India Company\n     have especially modified the history of his country.\n\n\n_I.--Labour and Its Produce_\n\nThe division of labour has been the chief cause of improvement in the\nproductiveness of labour. For instance, the making of a single pin\ninvolves eighteen separate operations, which are entrusted to eighteen\nseparate workmen; and the result is, that whereas one man working alone\ncould only make perhaps twenty pins in a day, several men working\ntogether, on the principle of division of labour, can make several\nthousands of pins per man in one day. Division of labour, in a highly\ndeveloped state of society, is carried into almost every practical art;\nand its great benefits depend upon the increase of dexterity in each\nworkman, upon the saving of time otherwise lost in passing from one kind\nof work to another, and finally, upon the use of many labour-saving\nmachines, which is made possible by the division of labour.\n\nThis division of labour, from which so many advantages are derived, is\nnot originally the effect of any human wisdom which foresees and intends\nthe opulence to which it gives rise; it is rather the gradual result of\nthe propensity, in human nature, to barter and exchange one thing for\nanother. The power of exchanging their respective produce makes it\npossible for one man to produce only bread, and for another to produce\nonly clothing. The extent to which the division of labour can be carried\nis therefore limited by the extent of the market. There are some sorts\nof industry, even of the lowest kind, which can be carried on nowhere\nbut in a great town; a porter, for example, cannot find employment and\nsubsistence in a village. In the highlands of Scotland every farmer must\nbe butcher, baker, and brewer for his own family.\n\nAs water-carriage opens a more extensive market to every kind of\nindustry than is afforded by land-carriage, it is on the sea coast and\non the banks of navigable rivers, that industry begins to subdivide and\nimprove itself, and it is riot till long afterwards that these\nimprovements extend to the inland parts. It was thus that the earliest\ncivilised nations were grouped round the coasts of the Mediterranean\nSea; and the extent and easiness of its inland navigation was probably\nthe chief cause of the early improvement of Egypt.\n\nAs soon as the division of labour is well established, every man\nbecomes in some measure a merchant, and the society becomes a commercial\nsociety; and the continual process of exchange leads inevitably to the\norigin of money. In the absence of money or a general medium of\nexchange, society would be restricted to the cumbersome method of\nbarter. Every man therefore would early endeavour to keep by him,\nbesides the produce of his own industry, a certain quantity of some\ncommodity such as other people will be likely to take in exchange for\nthe produce of their particular industries. Cattle, for example, have\nbeen widely used for this purpose in primitive societies, and Homer\nspeaks of a suit of armour costing a hundred oxen.\n\nBut the durability of metals, as well as the facility with which they\ncan be subdivided, has led to their employment, in all countries, as the\nmeans of exchange; and in order to obviate the necessity of weighing\nportions of the metals at every purchase, as well as to prevent fraud,\nit has been found necessary to affix a public stamp upon certain\nquantities of the metals commonly used to purchase goods. The value of\ncommodities thus comes to be expressed in terms of coinage.\n\nBut labour is the real measure of the exchangeable value of all\ncommodities; the value of any commodity to the person who possesses it\nis equal to the quantity of labour which it enables him to purchase or\nto command. What is bought with money or with goods is purchased by\nlabour as much as what we acquire by the toil of our own body. \"Labour\nalone, never varying in its own value, is alone the ultimate and real\nstandard by which the value of all commodities can at all times and in\nall places be estimated and compared. It is their real price; money is\ntheir nominal price only. Equal quantities of labour will at distant\ntimes be purchased more nearly with equal quantities of corn, the\nsubsistence of the labourer, than with equal quantities of gold, or of\nany other commodity.\"\n\nSeveral elements enter into the price of commodities. In a nation of\nhunters, if it costs twice the labour to kill a beaver which it costs to\nkill a deer, one beaver will be worth two deer. But if the one kind of\nlabour be more severe than the other, some allowance will naturally be\nmade for this superior hardship; and thirdly, if one kind of labour\nrequires an uncommon degree of dexterity and ingenuity, it will command\na higher value than that which would be due to the time employed in it.\nSo far, the whole produce of labour belongs to the labourer.\n\nBut as soon as stock has accumulated in the hands of particular persons,\nsome of them will employ it in setting to work industrious workmen, whom\nthey will supply with materials and subsistence, in order to make a\nprofit by the sale of their work. The profits of stock are not to be\nregarded as the wages of a particular sort of labour, the labour of\ninspection and direction; for they are regulated altogether by the value\nof the stock employed, and are greater or smaller in proportion to the\nextent of this stock.\n\nThere is in every society or neighbourhood an ordinary or average rate\nboth of wages and profit in every different employment of labour and\nstock; and this rate is regulated partly by the general circumstances of\nthe society, its richness or poverty, and partly by the peculiar nature\nof each employment. There is also in every society or neighbourhood an\nordinary or average rate of rent, which is regulated too by the general\ncircumstances of the society or neighbourhood in which the land is\nsituated, and partly by the natural or improved fertility of the land.\nWhat we may call the natural price of any commodity depends upon these\nnatural rates of wages, profit and rent, at the place where it is\nproduced. But its market price may be above, below, or identical with\nits natural price, and depends upon the proportion between the supply\nand the demand.\n\n\n_II.--Nature, Accumulation, and Employment of Stock_\n\nWhen the stock which a man possesses is no more than sufficient to\nmaintain him for a few days or weeks, he seldom thinks of deriving any\nrevenue from it; but when he possesses enough to maintain him for months\nor years, he endeavours to derive a revenue from the greater part of it.\nThe part of his stock from which he expects to derive revenue is called\nhis capital.\n\nThere are two ways in which capital may be employed so as to yield a\nprofit to its employer. First, it may be employed in raising,\nmanufacturing, or purchasing goods, and selling them again with a\nprofit; this is circulating capital. Secondly, it may be employed in the\nimprovement of land, or in the purchase of machines and instruments; and\nthis capital, which yields a profit from objects which do not change\nmasters, is called fixed capital.\n\nThe general stock of any country or society is the same as that of all\nits inhabitants or members, and is therefore divided into the same three\nportions, each of which has a different function. The first is the\nportion which is reserved for immediate consumption, and so affords no\nrevenue or profit. The second is the fixed capital, which consists of\n\n  (_a_) all useful machines and instruments of trade which\n  facilitate and abridge labour;\n\n  (_b_) all profitable buildings, which procure a revenue,\n  not only to their owner, but also to the person\n  who rents them, such as shops, warehouses,\n  farmhouses, factories, &c.;\n\n  (_c_) the improvements of land, and all that has been\n  laid out in clearing, draining, enclosing, manuring,\n  and reducing it into the condition most proper for\n  culture; and\n\n  (_d_) the acquired and useful abilities of all the inhabitants\n  or members of the society, for the acquisition\n  of such talents, by the maintenance of the\n  learner during his education or apprenticeship,\n  costs a real expense, which is a capital fixed in\n  his person.\n\nThe third and last of the three portions into which the general stock of\nthe society naturally divides itself is the circulating capital, which\naffords a revenue only by changing masters. It includes\n\n  (_a_) all the money by means of which all the other three\n  are circulated and distributed to their proper consumers;\n\n  (_b_) all the stock of provisions which are in the possession\n  of the butcher, farmer, corn-merchant, &c.,\n  and from the sale of which they expect to derive\n  a profit;\n\n  (_c_) all the materials, whether altogether rude, or more\n  or less manufactured, for clothes, furniture and\n  building, which are not yet made up into any of\n  these shapes, but remain in the hands of the growers,\n  manufacturers and merchants; and\n\n  (_d_) all the work which is made up and completed, but\n  is not yet disposed of to the proper consumers.\n\nThe substitution of paper in the place of gold and silver money replaces\na very expensive instrument of commerce by one much less costly, and\nsometimes equally convenient. Circulation comes to be carried on by a\nnew wheel, which it costs less both to erect and to maintain than the\nold one. The effect of the issue of large quantities of bank-notes in\nany country is to send abroad the gold, which is no longer needed at\nhome, in order that it may seek profitable employment. It is not sent\nabroad for nothing, but is exchanged for foreign goods of various kinds\nin such a way as to add to the revenue and profits of the country from\nwhich it is sent; unless, indeed, it is spent abroad on such goods as\nare likely to be consumed by idle people who produce nothing.\n\n\n_III.--The Progress of Opulence in Different Nations_\n\nThe greatest commerce of every civilised society is that carried on\nbetween the inhabitants of the town and those of the country. It\nconsists in the exchange of rude for manufactured produce, either\nimmediately, or by the intervention of money, or of some sort of paper\nwhich represents money. The country supplies the town with the means of\nsubsistence, and the materials for manufacture. The town repays this\nsupply by sending back a part of the manufactured produce to the\ninhabitants of the country. The town, in which there neither is nor can\nbe any reproduction of substances, may very properly be said to gain its\nwhole subsistence from the country. And in how great a degree the\ncountry is benefited by the commerce of the town may be seen from a\ncomparison of the cultivation of the lands in the neighbourhood of any\nconsiderable town with that of those which He at some distance from it.\n\nAs subsistence is, in the nature of things, prior to conveniency and\nluxury, so the rural industries which procure the former must be prior\nto the urban industries which minister to the latter. The greater part\nof the capital of every growing society is therefore first directed to\nagriculture, afterwards to manufactures, and last of all to foreign\ncommerce. But this natural order of things has, in all the modern states\nof Europe, been in many respects entirely inverted. The foreign commerce\nof some of their cities has given rise to their finer manufactures, and\nmanufactures and foreign commerce together have given birth to the\nprincipal improvements of agriculture. The manners and customs which the\nnature of their original government introduced, and which remained after\nthat government was greatly altered, necessarily forced them into this\nunnatural and retrograde order.\n\nIn the ancient state of Europe, after the fall of the Roman Empire,\nagriculture was greatly discouraged by several causes. The rapine and\nviolence which the barbarians exercised against the ancient inhabitants\ninterrupted the commerce between the towns and the country; the towns\nwere deserted and the country was left uncultivated. The western\nprovinces of Europe sank into the lowest state of poverty, and the land,\nwhich was mostly uncultivated, was engrossed by a few great proprietors.\n\nThese lands might in the natural course of events have been soon divided\nagain, and broken into small parcels by succession or by alienation; but\nthe law of primogeniture hindered their division by succession, and the\nintroduction of entails prevented their being divided by alienation.\nThese hindrances to the division and consequently to the cultivation of\nthe land were due to the fact that land was considered as the means not\nof subsistence merely, but of power and protection. In those disorderly\ntimes, every great landlord was a sort of petty prince.\n\nUnfortunately these laws of primogeniture and entail have continued long\nafter the circumstances which gave rise to them have disappeared.\nUnfortunately, because it seldom happens that a great landlord is a\ngreat improver. To improve land with profit requires an exact attention\nto small savings and small gains, of which a man born to a great fortune\nis seldom capable. And if little improvement was to be expected from the\ngreat proprietors, still less was to be hoped for from those who\noccupied the land under them. In the ancient state of Europe, the\noccupiers of land were all tenants at will, and practically slaves. To\nthese succeeded a kind of farmers known at present in France by the name\nof \"metayers,\" whose produce was divided equally between the proprietor\nand the farmer, after setting aside what was judged necessary for\nkeeping up the stock, which still belonged to the landlord. To these, in\nturn, succeeded, though by very slow degrees, farmers properly so\ncalled, who cultivated the land with their own stock, paying a fixed\nrent to the landlord, and enjoying a certain degree of security of\ntenure. And every improvement in the position of the actual cultivation\nof the soil is attended by a corresponding improvement of the land and\nof its cultivation.\n\nAfter the fall of the Roman empire the inhabitants of cities and towns\nwere not more favoured than those of the country. The towns were\ninhabited chiefly by tradesmen and mechanics, who were in those days of\nservile, or nearly servile condition. Yet the townsmen arrived at\nliberty and independence much earlier than the country population; their\ntowns became \"free burghs,\" and were erected into commonalities or\ncorporations, with the privilege of having magistrates and a town\ncouncil of their own, of making by-laws for their own government and of\nbuilding walls for their own defence. Order and good government, and the\nliberty and security of individuals, were thus established in cities at\na time when the occupiers of land in the country were exposed to every\nsort of violence.\n\nThe increase and riches of commercial and manufacturing towns\nthenceforward contributed to the improvement and cultivation of the\ncountries to which they belonged, in three different ways. First, by\naffording a great and ready market for the rude produce of the country.\nSecondly, the wealth acquired by the inhabitants of cities was employed\nin purchasing uncultivated lands and in bringing them under cultivation;\nfor merchants are ambitious of becoming country gentlemen, and when they\ndo so, are generally the best of all improvers. And lastly, commerce and\nmanufactures gradually introduced order and good government, and with\nthem the liberty and security of individuals, among the inhabitants of\nthe country.\n\n\n_IV.--The Mercantile System_\n\nFrom the mistaken theory that wealth consists in money, or in gold and\nsilver, there has arisen an erroneous and harmful system of political\neconomy and of legislation in the supposed interests of manufacture, of\ncommerce, and of the wealth of nations. A rich country is supposed to be\na country abounding in money; and all the nations of Europe have\nconsequently studied, though to little purpose, every possible means of\naccumulating gold and silver in their respective countries. For example,\nthey have at times forbidden, or hindered by heavy duties, the export of\nthese metals. But all these attempts are vain; for on the one hand, when\nthe quantity of gold and silver imported into any country exceeds the\neffectual demand, no vigilance can prevent their exportation; and on the\nother hand, if gold and silver should fall short in a country, there are\nmore expedients for supplying their place than that of any other\ncommodity. The real inconvenience which is commonly called \"scarcity of\nmoney\" is not a shortness in the medium of exchange, but is a weakening\nand diminution of credit, due to over-trading. Money is part of the\nnational capital, but only a small part and always the most unprofitable\npart of it.\n\nThe principle of the \"commercial system\" or \"mercantile system\" is, that\nwealth consists in money, or in gold and silver. It is an utterly untrue\nprinciple. But once it had been established in general belief that\nwealth consists in gold and silver, and that these metals can be brought\ninto a country which has no mines only by the \"balance of trade,\" that\nis to say, by exporting to a greater value than it imports, it\nnecessarily became the great object of political economy to diminish as\nmuch as possible the importation of foreign goods for home consumption,\nand to increase as much as possible the exportation of the produce of\ndomestic industry. Its two great engines for enriching the country,\ntherefore, were restraints upon importation and encouragements to\nexportation.\n\nThe restraints upon importation were of two kinds: first, restraints\nupon the importation of such foreign goods for home consumption as could\nbe produced at home, from whatever country they were imported; and\nsecondly, restraints upon the importation of goods of almost all kinds\nfrom those particular countries with which the balance of trade was\nsupposed to be disadvantageous. These different restraints consisted\nsometimes in high duties, and sometimes in absolute prohibitions.\n\nExportation was encouraged sometimes by drawbacks, sometimes by\nbounties, sometimes by advantageous treaties of commerce with sovereign\nstates, and sometimes by the establishment of colonies in distant\ncountries. The above two restraints, and these four encouragements to\nexportation, constitute the six principal means by which the commercial\nor mercantile system proposes to increase the quantity of gold and\nsilver in any country by turning the balance of trade in its favour.\n\nThe entire system, in all its developments, is a fallacious and an evil\none. It is not difficult to determine who have been the contrivers of\nthis whole mercantile system: not the consumers, whose interest has been\nentirely neglected; but the producers, and especially the merchants and\nmanufacturers, whose interest has been so carefully attended to. It\nremains to be said, also, that the \"agricultural system,\" which\nrepresents the produce of land as the sole source of the revenue and\nwealth of every country, and as therefore justifying a special\nprotection of it, is as fallacious and as harmful as the other.\n\n\n_V.--The Revenue of the Sovereign or Commonwealth_\n\nThe first duty of the sovereign, that of protecting the society from the\nviolence and invasion of other independent societies, can be performed\nonly by means of a military force. This may be effected either by\nobliging all the citizens of the military age, or a certain number of\nthem, to join in some measure the trade of a soldier to whatever other\ntrade or profession they may happen to carry on; or by maintaining a\ncertain number of citizens in the constant practice of military\nexercises, thus rendering the trade of a soldier a particular trade,\nseparate from all others. In the former case a militia is formed, in the\nlatter a standing army; and of the two, the second is by far the more\npowerful, as it is also the more expensive.\n\nThe second duty of the sovereign, that of protecting, as far as\npossible, every member of the society from the injustice or oppression\nof every other member of it, or the duty of establishing an exact\nadministration of justice, requires an increasing expenditure\ncorresponding to the advance and development of the society.\n\nPublic works and public institutions are a third cause of expenditure on\nthe part of sovereign or commonwealth; and have two principal\nobjects--that of facilitating the commerce of the society and that of\npromoting the instruction of the people. Roads, bridges, canals, are\nexamples of the former; schools, universities, established Churches are\nexamples of the latter. And among other expenses of the sovereign or\ncommonwealth we must include the expenses of supporting the dignity of\nthe sovereign.\n\nThe funds or sources of revenue which peculiarly belong to the sovereign\nor commonwealth consist either in stock or in land; but being quite\ninsufficient to meet the public expenditure they are supplemented by\ntaxation. Every tax is finally paid from rent, profit or wages, or from\nall of them indifferently; and the chief principle to be observed in\ntaxation is, that the subjects of the State ought to contribute towards\nthe support of the government, as nearly as possible, in proportion to\ntheir respective abilities--that is, in proportion to the revenue which\nthey respectively enjoy under the protection of the State. The tax which\neach individual is bound to pay ought to be certain and not arbitrary;\nevery tax ought to be levied at the time or in the manner in which it is\nmost likely to be convenient for the contributor to pay it; and finally,\nevery tax ought to be so contrived as to take out and to keep out of the\npockets of the people as little as possible over and above what it\nbrings into the public treasury of the State.","title":"The World's Greatest Books \u2014 Volume 14 \u2014 Philosophy and Economics","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":112650}