{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27948/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27948","id":"gutenberg_27948","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27948","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Other","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Progress"],"text":"Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  +------------------------------------------------------------+\n  | Transcriber's Note                                         |\n  |                                                            |\n  | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in        |\n  | this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of   |\n  | this document.                                             |\n  | Text printed using the Greek alphabet in the original book |\n  | is shown as follows: [Greek: logos]                        |\n  +------------------------------------------------------------+\n\n\n\n\nPROGRESS AND\nHISTORY\n\n_ESSAYS ARRANGED AND EDITED_\n\nBY\n\nF. S. MARVIN\n\nLATE SENIOR SCHOLAR OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD\n\nAUTHOR OF 'THE LIVING PAST'\n\nEDITOR OF 'THE UNITY OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION'\n\n\n'Tanta patet rerum series et omne futurum\nNititur in lucem.'\n                    LUCAN.\n\n\n_THIRD IMPRESSION_\n\n\n\nHUMPHREY MILFORD\n\nOXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS\n\nLONDON  EDINBURGH  GLASGOW  NEW YORK\nTORONTO  MELBOURNE  CAPE TOWN  BOMBAY\n\n1919\n\n\nPRINTED IN ENGLAND AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThis volume is a sequel to _The Unity of Western Civilization_ published\nlast year and arose in the same way, from a course of lectures given at\nthe Woodbrooke Settlement, Birmingham.\n\nThe former book attempted to describe some of the permanent unifying\nfactors which hold our Western civilization together in spite of such\ncatastrophic divisions as the present war. This book attempts to show\nthese forces in growth. The former aimed rather at a statical, the\npresent at a dynamical view of the same problem. Both are historical in\nspirit.\n\nIt is hoped that these courses may serve as an introduction to a series\nof cognate studies, of which clearly both the supply and the scope are\ninfinite, for under the general conception of 'Progress in Unity' all\ngreat human topics might be embraced. One subject has been suggested for\nearly treatment which would have especial interest at the present time,\nviz. 'Recent Progress in European Thought'. We are by the war brought\nmore closely than before into contact with other nations of Europe who\nare pursuing with inevitable differences the same main lines of\nevolution. To indicate these in general, with stress on the factor of\nbetterment, is the aim of the present volume.\n\nF.S.M.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\n   I. THE IDEA OF PROGRESS                                           7\n\n         By F. S. MARVIN.\n\n  II. PROGRESS IN PREHISTORIC TIMES                                 27\n\n        By R. R. MARETT, Reader in Social Anthropology,\n          Oxford.\n\n III. PROGRESS AND HELLENISM                                        48\n\n        By F. MELIAN STAWELL, late Lecturer at\n          Newnham College, Cambridge.\n\n  IV. PROGRESS IN THE MIDDLE AGES                                   72\n\n        By the Rev. A. J. CARLYLE, Tutor and\n          Lecturer at University College, Oxford.\n\n   V. PROGRESS IN RELIGION                                          96\n\n        By BARON FRIEDRICH VON HUeGEL.\n\n  VI. MORAL PROGRESS                                               134\n\n        By L. P. JACKS, Principal of Manchester\n          New College, Oxford.\n\n VII. GOVERNMENT                                                   151\n\n        By A. E. ZIMMERN, late Fellow of New\n          College, Oxford.\n\nVIII. INDUSTRY                                                     189\n\n        By A. E. ZIMMERN.\n\n  IX. ART                                                          224\n\n        By A. CLUTTON BROCK.\n\n   X. SCIENCE                                                      248\n\n        By F. S. MARVIN.\n\n  XI. PHILOSOPHY                                                   273\n\n        By J. A. SMITH, Waynflete Professor of\n          Mental and Moral Philosophy, Oxford.\n\n XII. PROGRESS AS AN IDEAL OF ACTION                               295\n\n        By J. A. SMITH.\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE IDEA OF PROGRESS\n\nF. S. MARVIN\n\n\nThe editor of these essays was busy in the autumn of last year collating\nthe opinions attached by different people to the word 'progress'. One\nSunday afternoon he happened to be walking with two friends in Oxford,\none a professor of philosophy, the other a lady. The professor of\nphilosophy declared that to him human progress must always mean\nprimarily the increase of knowledge; the editor urged the increase of\npower as its most characteristic feature, but the lady added at once\nthat to her progress had always meant, and could only mean, increase in\nour appreciation of the humanity of others.\n\nThe first two thoughts, harmonized and directed by the third, may be\ntaken to cover the whole field, and this volume to be merely a\ncommentary upon them. What we have to consider is, when and how this\nidea of progress, as a general thing affecting mankind as a whole, first\nappeared in the world, how far it has been realized in history, and how\nfar it gives us any guidance and hope for the future. In the midst of a\ncatastrophe which appears at first sight to be a deadly blow to the\nideal, such an inquiry has a special interest and may have some\npermanent value.\n\nWords are the thought of ages crystallized, or rather embodied with a\nconstantly growing soul. The word 'Progress', like the word 'Humanity',\nis one of the most significant. It is a Latin word, not used in its\ncurrent abstract sense until after the Roman incorporation of the\nMediterranean world. It contains Greek thought summed up and applied by\nRoman minds. Many of the earlier Greek thinkers, Xenophanes and\nEmpedocles as well as Plato and Aristotle, had thought and spoken of a\nsteady process in things, including man himself, from lower to higher\nforms; but the first writer who expounds the notion with sufficient\nbreadth of view and sufficiently accurate and concrete observation to\nprovide a preliminary sketch, was the great Roman poet who attributed\nall the best that was in him to the Greeks and yet has given us a highly\noriginal picture of the upward tendency of the world and of human\nsociety upon it. He, too, so far as one can discover, was the first to\nuse the word 'progress' in the sense of our inquiry. The passage in\nLucretius at the end of his fifth book on the Nature of Things is so\ntrue and brilliant and anticipates so many points in later thought that\nit is worth quoting at some length, and the poet's close relation with\nCicero, the typical Greco-Roman thinker, gives his ideas the more weight\nas an historical document.\n\nHe begins by describing a struggle for existence in which the less\nwell-adapted creatures died off, those who wanted either the power to\nprotect themselves or the means of adapting themselves to the purposes\nof man. In this stage, however, man was a hardier creature than he\nafterwards became. He lived like the beasts of the field and was\nignorant of tillage or fire or clothes or houses. He had no laws or\ngovernment or marriage, and though he did not fear the dark, he feared\nthe real danger of fiercer beasts. Men often died a miserable death, but\nnot in multitudes on a single day as they do now by battle or shipwreck.\n\nThe next stage sees huts and skins and fire which softened their\nbodies, and marriage and the ties of family which softened their\ntempers. And tribes began to make treaties of alliance with other\ntribes.\n\nSpeech arose from the need which all creatures feel to exercise their\nnatural powers, just as the calf will butt before his horns protrude.\nMen began to apply different sounds to denote different things, just as\nbrute beasts will do to express different passions, as any one must have\nnoticed in the cases of dogs and horses and birds. No one man set out to\ninvent speech.\n\nFire was first learnt from lightning and the friction of trees, and\ncooking from the softening and ripening of things by the sun.\n\nThen men of genius invented improved methods of life, the building of\ncities and private property in lands and cattle. But gold gave power to\nthe wealthy and destroyed the sense of contentment in simple happiness.\nIt must always be so whenever men allow themselves to become the slaves\nof things which should be their dependants and instruments.\n\nThey began to believe in and worship gods, because they saw in dreams\nshapes of preterhuman strength and beauty and deemed them immortal; and\nas they noted the changes of the seasons and all the wonders of the\nheavens, they placed their gods there and feared them when they spoke in\nthe thunder.\n\nMetals were discovered through the burning of the woods, which caused\nthe ores to run. Copper and brass came first and were rated above gold\nand silver. And then the metals took the place of hands, nails, teeth,\nand clubs, which had been men's earliest arms and tools. Weaving\nfollowed the discovery of the use of iron.\n\nSowing, planting, and grafting were learnt from nature herself, and\ngradually the cultivation of the soil was carried farther and farther up\nthe hills.\n\nMen learnt to sing from the birds, and to blow on pipes from the\nwhistling of the zephyr through the reeds: and those simple tunes gave\nas much rustic jollity as our more elaborate tunes do now.\n\nThen, in a summary passage at the end, Lucretius enumerates all the\nchief discoveries which men have made in the age-long process--ships,\nagriculture, walled cities, laws, roads, clothes, songs, pictures,\nstatues, and all the pleasures of life--and adds, 'these things practice\nand the experience of the unresting mind have taught mankind gradually\nas they have progressed from point to point'.[1]\n\nIt is the first definition and use of the word in literature. If we\naccept it as a typical presentation of the Greco-Roman view, seen by a\nman of exceptional genius and insight at the climax of the period, there\nare two or three points which must arrest our attention. Lucretius is\nthinking mainly of progress in the arts, and especially of the arts as\nthey affect man's happiness. There is no mention of increase in\nknowledge or in love. As in the famous parallel passage in Sophocles'\n_Antigone_, it is man's strength and skill which most impressed the\npoet, and his skill especially as exhibited in the arts. Compared with\nwhat we shall see as typical utterances of later times, it is an\nexternal view of the subject. The absence of love as an element of\nprogress carries with it the absence of the idea of humanity. There is\nno conception here, nor anywhere in classical thought before the Stoics,\nof a world-wide Being which has contributed to the advance and should\nshare fully in its fruits. Still less do we find any hint of the\npossibilities of an infinite progress. The moral, on the contrary, is\nthat we should limit our desires, banish disturbing thoughts, and settle\ndown to a quiet and sensible enjoyment of the good things that\nadvancing skill has provided for us. It is, of course, true that\nthoughts can be found in individual writers, especially in Plato and\nAristotle, which would largely modify this view. Yet it can hardly be\nquestioned that Lucretius here represents the prevalent tone of\nthoughtful men of his day. They had begun to realize the fact of human\nprogress, but envisaged it, as was natural in a first view, mainly on\nthe external side, and, above all, had no conception of its infinite\npossibilities.\n\nWhen we turn to typical utterances of the next great age in history the\ncontrast is striking. Catholic doctrine had absorbed much that was\ncongenial to it from the Stoics, from Plato and Aristotle, but it added\na thing that was new in the world, a passionate love and an overpowering\ndesire for personal moral improvement. This is so clear in the greatest\nfigures of the Middle Ages, men such as St. Bernard and St. Francis, and\nit is so unlike anything that we know in the world before, that we are\njustified in treating it as characteristic of the age. To some of us,\nindeed, it will appear as the most important element in the general\nnotion of progress which we are tracing. It so appeared to Comte.[2] Of\nnumberless passages that might be quoted from fathers and doctors of the\nChurch, a few words from Nicholas of Cusa must suffice. He was a divine\nof the early fifteenth century, true to the faith, but anxious to\nimprove the discipline of the Church. To him progress took an entirely\nspiritual form. 'To be able to understand more and more without end is\nthe type of eternal wisdom.... Let a man desire to understand better\nwhat he does understand and to love more what he does love and the whole\nworld will not satisfy him.'\n\nHere is a point of view so different from the last that we find some\ndifficulty in fitting it into the same scheme of things. Yet both are\nessential elements in Western civilization; both have been developed by\nthe operations of similar forces in the world civilized and incorporated\nby Greece and Rome.\n\nThe Catholic divine looks entirely inward for his idea of progress, and\nhis conception contains elements of real and permanent validity, of\nwhich our present notions are full. His eyes are turned towards the\nfuture and there is no limit to his vision. And though the progress\ncontemplated is within the soul of the individual believer, it rests on\nthe two fundamental principles of knowledge and love which are both\nessentially social. The believer may isolate himself from the world to\ndevelop his higher nature, but the knowledge and the love which he\ncarries with him into his solitude are themselves fruits of that\nintercourse with his fellows from which an exclusive religious ideal\ntemporarily cuts him off.\n\nNor must we forget that Catholic doctrine and discipline, though aiming\nat this perfection of the individual rather than of the race, was\nembodied in an organization which carried farther than the Roman Empire\nthe idea of a united civilization and furnished to many thinkers,\nBossuet as well as Dante, a first sketch of the progress of mankind.\n\nBut it is clear that this construction was provisional only, either on\nthe side of personal belief and practice, or of ecclesiastical\norganization; provisional, that is, if we are looking for real unity in\nthe mind of mankind. For we need a doctrine, a scheme of knowledge, into\nwhich all that we discover about the world and our own nature may find\nits place; we need principles of action which will guide us in attaining\na state of society more congruent with our knowledge of the\npossibilities of the world and human nature, more thoroughly inspired\nby human love, love of man for man as a being living his span of life\nhere and now, under conditions which call for a concentration of skill\nand effort to realize the best. The breaking of the old Catholic\nsynthesis, narrow but admirable within its limits, took place at what we\ncall the Renascence and Reformation; the linking up of a new one is the\ntask of our own and many later generations. Let it not be thought that\nsuch a change involves the destruction of any vital element in the idea\nof progress already achieved; if true and vital, every element must\nsurvive. But it does involve an acceptance of the fact that progress, or\nhumanity, or the evolution of the divine within us--however we prefer to\nphrase it--is a larger thing than any one organization or any one set of\ncarefully harmonized doctrines. The truth, and the organ in which we\nenshrine it, must grow with the human minds who are collectively\nproducing it. The new unity is itself progress.\n\nIt must give us confidence in facing such a prospect to observe that at\neach remove from the first appearance of the idea of progress in the\nworld man's use of the word has carried more meaning and, though\nsometimes quieter in tone, as in recent times, is better grounded in the\nfacts of life and history. Such an advance in our conceptions took place\nafter the Renascence. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, when\nthe art and science of the ancient world had been recovered, the word\nand the idea of progress started on a fresh course of unexampled vigour.\nThe lines were closer to those of the pre-Christian than of the Catholic\nworld, but it would be by no means true to call them pagan. When Bacon\nand Descartes begin to sound the modern note of progress, they think\nprimarily of an advance in the arts and sciences, but there is a\nspiritual and human side to their ideal which could not be really\nparalleled in classical thought. The Spirit of Man is now invoked, and\nthis, not in the sense of an elite, the builders of the Greek State or\nthe rulers of the Roman Empire, but of mankind as a whole. This is\nChristian, or perhaps we should say, Stoical-Christian. Thus Descartes\ntells us that he looks to science to furnish us ultimately with an art\nwhich will make us 'masters and possessors of nature ... and this not\nsolely for the pleasure of enjoying with ease the good things of the\nworld, but principally for the preservation and improvement of human\nhealth which is both the foundation of all other goods and the means of\nstrengthening the spirit itself' ('Discours de la Methode'). It is\nsignificant that the two words Progress and Humanity come into use in\ntheir modern sense side by side. The latter is the basis and the ideal\nof the former.\n\nBut the new thing which had come into the world at this point, and gives\na fresh impulse and content to the idea of progress, is the development\nof science. The Greeks had founded it and, as we shall see in a later\nchapter, it was the recovery of the Greek thread which gave the moderns\ntheir clue. But no one before the sixteenth century, before the marvels\nrevealed by Galileo's telescope and knit up by Newton's synthetic\ngenius, could have conceived the visions of human regeneration by\nscience which light up the pioneers of the seventeenth century and are\nthe gospel of the eighteenth.\n\nWe turn to the eighteenth century, and primarily to the school of\nthinkers called 'philosophes' in France, for the fullest and most\nenthusiastic statement of progress as a gospel. It is, of course,\nEuropean, as all the greatest advances of thought have been; and German\nthinkers, as well as English, stand with the French in the vanguard.\nKant and Herder, from different points of view, thought it out perhaps\nmore thoroughly than any one else at that time; but the French believed\nin it as a nation and were willing to stake their lives and souls on the\nbelief. Thus Turgot, before the Revolution, declared that 'the total\nmass of the human race marches continually though sometimes slowly\ntowards an ever-increasing perfection'. And Condorcet, in the midst of\nthe Revolution, while himself under its ban, painted a picture 'of the\nhuman race, freed from its chains, and marching with a firm tread on the\nroad of truth and virtue and happiness'.\n\nHere is the gospel in its purest and simplest form, and when we are\ninclined to think that the crimes and the partial failure of the\nRevolution discredit its principles, it is well to remember that the man\nwho believed in them most systematically, expounded his belief with\nperfect calmness and confidence as he lay under sentence of death from a\nrevolutionary tribunal.\n\nIf this enthusiasm is madness, we might all well wish to be possessed.\nThe true line of criticism is different. At the Revolution, as before at\nthe Renascence, the leaders of the new movement could not see all their\ndebt to the past. Like the Renascence, they idealized certain features\nin classical antiquity, but they had not yet gained the notion of\nhistorical continuity; above all, they did not realize the value of the\nreligious development of the Middle Ages. It was left for the nineteenth\ncentury and for us, its successors, to attempt the supreme task of\nseeing things steadily and seeing them whole.\n\nFor in spite of the capital contributions of the Renascence to progress\nand the idea of progress, especially by its scientific constructions, it\nis undeniable that a bias was then given to the course of Western\ncivilization from which it has suffered ever since, and which it is now\nour urgent duty to correct. Two aspects of this may be specified. The\nold international unity which Rome had achieved, at least superficially,\nin the Mediterranean world, and which the Catholic Church had extended\nand deepened, was broken up in favour of a system of sovereign and\nindependent states controlling religion and influencing education on\nlines calculated to strengthen the national forces and the national\nforces alone. They even believed that, at any rate in trade and\ncommerce, the interests of these independent states were rather rival\nthan co-operative. The Revolution struck the note of human association\nclearly enough, but we have not yet learnt to set all our other tunes in\naccord with it. Another, and perhaps even more fundamental, weakness of\nthe Renascence tradition was the stress it laid on the material,\nmechanical, external side of progress. On the one hand, the spiritual\nside of life tended to be identified with that system of thought and\ndiscipline which had been so rudely disrupted. On the other hand, the\nnew advance in science brought quickly after it a corresponding growth\nof wealth and mechanical inventions and material comforts. The spirit of\nman was for the time impeded and half suffocated by its own productions.\n\nThe present war seems to many of us the supreme struggle of our better\nnature to gain the mastery over these obstructions, and freedom for its\nproper growth.\n\nNow if this analysis be anywhere near the truth, it is clear that our\ntask for the future is one of synthesis on the lines of social progress.\nKnowledge, power, wealth, increase of skill, increase of health, we have\nthem all in growing measure, and Mr. Clutton Brock will tell us in his\nchapter in this volume that we may be able by an exercise of will to\nachieve even a new renascence in art. But we certainly do not yet\npossess these things fairly distributed or in harmony of mind.\n\nThe connexion therefore between progress as we now envisage it, and\nunity, both in ourselves and in society at large, becomes apparent. At\neach of the previous great moments in the history of the West\ndevelopment has been secured by emphasis on one side of our nature at\nthe expense of the rest. Visions of mankind in common progress have\nflashed on individual thinkers, a Roman Emperor, a Catholic Schoolman, a\nRevolutionary prophet. But the thing achieved has been one-sided, and\nthe needed correction has been given by another movement more one-sided\nstill. The greatest hope of the present day lies in the fact that in all\nbranches of life, in government as well as in philosophy, in science as\nin social reform, in religion and in international politics, men are now\nstriving with determination to bind the threads together.\n\nThere is no necessary opposition between the rival forces which have so\noften led to conflict. In all our controversies harmony can be reached\nand has often been reached by the application of patience, knowledge,\nand goodwill. And goodwill implies here the readiness to submit the\nparticular issue to the arbitration of the general good. The\ninternational question has been so fully canvassed in these days that it\nwould be superfluous to discuss it here. The moral is obvious, and\nabundant cases throughout the world illustrate the truth that\nwell-organized nationalities contain in themselves nothing contrary to\nthe ideal of international peace.[3] Nor is the still more persistent\nand universal opposition of capital and labour really less amenable to\nreconciliation, because in this case also the two factors in the problem\nare equally necessary to social progress, and we shall not enter on the\nvarious practical solutions--co-operation, co-partnership, partial\nstate-socialism, &c.--which have been proposed for a problem which no\none believes to be insoluble. The conflict in our own souls between the\nthings of matter and sense and the life of the spirit, is more closely\ngermane to the present argument, because ultimately this has to be\nresolved, if not in every mind yet in the dominant mind of Europe,\nbefore the more practical questions can be generally settled. Harmony\nhere is at the root of a sound idea of progress.\n\nWhen the concluding chapters of this volume are reached it will be seen\nhow fully the recent developments both in science and philosophy\ncorroborate the line which is here suggested for the reconciliation of\nconflicts and the establishment of a stronger and more coherent notion\nof what we may rightly pursue as progress. For both in science and still\nmore in philosophy attention is being more and more closely concentrated\non the meaning of life itself, which science approaches by way of its\nphysical concomitants, and philosophy from the point of view of\nconsciousness. And while science has been analysing the characteristics\nof a living organism, philosophy finds in our consciousness just that\nelement of community with others which an organic conception of progress\ndemands. The only progress of which we can be certain, the philosopher\ntells us, is progress in our own consciousness, which becomes constantly\nfuller, more knowing, and more social, as time unfolds. This, he tells\nus, must endure, though the storms of passion and nature may fall upon\nus.\n\nOn such a firm basis we would all gladly build our faith. No unity can\nbe perfect except that which we achieve in our own souls, and no\nprogress can be relied on except that which we can know within, and can\ndevelop from, our own consciousness and our own powers. But we cannot\nrest in this. We are bound to look outside our own consciousness for\nsome objective correspondence to that progress which our own nature\ncraves; and history supplies this evidence. It is from history that we\nderive the first idea and the accumulating proofs of the reality of\nprogress. Lucretius's first sketch is really his summary of social\nhistory up to that point. The Catholic thinker had a wider scope. He\nwas able to see that the whole course of Greco-Roman civilization was,\nfrom his point of view, a preparation for the Church which had the care\nof the spiritual life of man while on earth. And in the next stage, that\nin which we now live, we see all the interests of life taken back again\ninto the completeness of human progress, and can trace that complete\nbeing, labouring slowly but unmistakably to a higher state, outside us\nin the world, as well as within our own consciousness, which is ready to\nexpand if we will give it range.\n\nOn such lines we may sketch the historical aspect of progress on which\nthe personal is based; and it is of the utmost importance to keep the\ntwo aspects before us concurrently, because reliance on the growing\nfullness of the individual life to the neglect of the social evolution\nis likely to empty that life itself of its true content, to leave the\nself-centred visionary absorbed in the contemplation of some ideal\nperfection within himself, while the world outside him from which he\nultimately derives his notions, is toiling and suffering from the want\nof those very elements which he is best able to supply.\n\nThe succeeding chapters of this book will, it is hoped, supply some\nevidence of the concrete reality of progress, as well as of the tendency\nto greater coherence and purity in the ideal itself. It would have been\neasy to accumulate evidence; some sides of life are hardly touched on at\nall. The collective and the intellectual sides are fully dealt with both\nin this and in the volume on _The Unity of Western Civilization_. But if\nwe make our survey over a sufficient space, coming down especially to\nour own days, our conclusion as to the advance made in the physical and\nmoral well-being of mankind, will be hardly less emphatic. Our average\nlives are longer and continue to lengthen, and they are unquestionably\nspent with far less physical suffering than was generally the case at\nany previous period. We are bound to give full weight to this, however\nmuch we rightly deplore the deadening effect of monotonous and\nmechanical toil on so large a part of the population. And even for these\nthe opportunities for a free and improving life are amazingly enlarged.\nWe groan and chafe at what remains to be done because of the unexampled\nsize of the modern industrial populations with which we have to deal.\nBut we know in some points very definitely what we want, and we are now\nall persuaded with John Stuart Mill that the remedy is in our own hands,\n'that all the great sources of human suffering are in a great degree,\nmany of them entirely, conquerable by human care and effort.' This\nconviction is perhaps the greatest step of all that we have gained. In\nmorality some pertinent and necessary questions are raised in Chap. VI,\nbut the general progress would be doubted by very few who have had the\nopportunity of comparing the evidence as to any previous state of\nmorals, say in the Middle Ages or in the Elizabethan age--the crown of\nthe Renascence in England--with that of the present day. The capital\nadvance in morality, which by itself would be sufficient to justify our\nthesis, is the increase in the consciousness and the obligation of the\n'common weal', that conception of which Government, increasingly better\norganized, is the most striking practical realization. It has its\ndrawback in the spread of what we feel as a debasing 'vulgarity', but\nthe general balance is overwhelmingly on the side of good. And in all\nsuch discussions we are apt to allow far too little weight to the change\nwhich the New World, and especially the United States, has brought\nabout. In matters of personal prosperity and a high general standard of\nintellectual and moral competence, what has been achieved there would\noutweigh a good deal of our Old World defects when we come to drawing\nup a world's balance-sheet.\n\nIt will be seen therefore that we dismiss altogether any doctrine of an\n'illusion of progress' as a necessary decoy to progressive action.\nProgress is a fact as well as an ideal, and the ideal, though it springs\nfrom an objective reality, will always be in advance of it. So it is\nwith all man's activities when he comes to man's estate. In science he\nhas always an ideal of a more perfect knowledge before him though he\nbecomes scientific by experience. In art he is always striving to\nidealize fresh things, though he first becomes an artist from the pure\nspontaneous pleasure of expressing what is in him. The deliberate\nprojection of the ideal into the future, seeing how far it will take us\nand whether we are journeying in the right direction, is a late stage.\nAs to progress, the largest general ideal which can affect man's action,\nit is only recently that mankind as a whole has been brought to grips\nwith the conception, also enlarged to the full. He was standing,\nsomewhat bewildered, somewhat dazzled, before it, when the war, like an\neclipse of the sun, came suddenly and darkened the view. But an eclipse\nhas been found an invaluable time for studying some of the problems of\nthe sun's nature and of light itself.\n\nOne of the most acute critics of the mid-Victorian prophets of progress,\nDr. John Grote, did very well in disentangling the ideal element which\nis inherent in every sound doctrine of progress as a guide to conduct.\nHe took the theory of a continuous inevitable progress in human affairs,\nand showed how this by itself might lead to a weakening of the will, on\nwhich alone in his view progress in the proper sense depends. He took\nthe mechanical theory of utilitarianism and subjected it to a similar\nanalysis. We cannot evaluate progress as an increase in a sum-total of\nhappiness. This is incapable of calculation, and if we aim directly at\nit, we are likely to lose the higher things on which it depends, and\nwhich are capable of being made the objects of that direct striving\nwhich is essential to progress. Dr. Grote's analysis has long since\npassed into current philosophical teaching, but he will always be well\nworth reading for his fresh and vigorous reasoning and for the way in\nwhich he builds up his own position without denying the solid\ncontributions of those whom he criticizes. Complete truth in the matter\nseems to us to involve a larger share for the historical element than\nDr. Grote explicitly allows. We grant fully the paramount necessity for\nan ideal of progress and for constantly revising, purifying, and\nstrengthening it. But in its formation we should trace more than he does\nto the collective forces of mankind as expressed in history. These have\ngiven us the ideal and will carry us on towards it by a force which is\ngreater than, and in one sense independent of, any individual will. This\nis the cardinal truth of sociology, and is obvious if we consider how in\nmatters of everyday experience we are all compelled by some social force\nnot ourselves, as for instance in actions tending to maintain the family\nor in a national crisis such, as the war. This general will is not, of\ncourse, independent of all the wills concerned, but it acts more or less\nas an outside compelling force in the case of every one. Moreover our\nselves are composite as well as wholes, and parts of us are active in\nforming the general will, parts acquiesce and parts are overborne. Thus\nit is clear that a general tendency to progress in the human race may be\nwell established--as we hold it to be--and yet go on in ways capable of\ninfinite variation and at very various speed. We are all, let us\nsuppose, being carried onward by one mighty and irresistible stream. We\nmay combine our strength and skill and make the best use of the\nsurrounding forces. This is working and steering to the chosen goal. Or\nwe may rest on our oars and let the stream take us where it will. This\nis drifting, and we shall certainly be carried on somewhere; but we may\nbe badly bruised or even shipwrecked in the process, and in any case we\nshall have contributed nothing to the advance. Some few may even waste\ntheir strength in trying to work backwards against the stream. We seem\nto have reached the point in history when for the first time we are\nreally conscious of our position, and the problem is now a possible and\nan urgent one to mark the goal clearly and unitedly and bend our common\nefforts to attaining it.\n\nIf this be so, the work of synthesis may be thought to have a higher\npractical value for the moment than the analysis which has prevailed in\nEuropean thought for the last forty or fifty years. In the earlier part\nof the nineteenth century the great formative ideas which had been\ngathering volume and enthusiasm during the revolutionary period, took\nshape in complete systems of religious and philosophic truth--Kant,\nHegel, Spencer, Comte. They have been followed by a period of criticism\nwhich has left none of them whole, but on the other hand has produced a\nmass of contradictions and specialisms highly confusing and even\nhopeless to the public mind and veiling the more important and profound\nagreements which have been growing all the time beneath. There are now\nabundant signs of a reaction towards unity and construction of a broad\nand solid kind. In no respect is such a knitting up more desirable than\nin this idea of progress itself. Are we to say that there is no such\nthing as all-round continuous progress, but only progress in definite\nbranches of thought and activity, progress in science or in particular\narts, social progress, physical progress, progress in popular education\nand the like, but that any two or more branches only coincide\noccasionally and by accident, and that when working at one we can and\nshould have no thought of working at them all? This is no doubt a\nprevalent view and we may hope that some things said in this book may\nmodify it. Another school of critical thinkers, approaching the question\nfrom the point of view of the ultimate object of action, asks what is\nthe one thing for which all others are to be pursued as means? Is\nincrease of knowledge the absolute good or increase of happiness? Or if\nit is increase of love, is it quite indifferent what we love? A few\nwords on this may fitly conclude this chapter.\n\nThe task of mankind, and of every one of us so far as he is able to\nenter into it, is to bring together these various aspects of human\nexcellence, to see them as parts of one ideal and labour to approach it.\nThis approach is progress, and if you say 'progress of what, and to what\nend', the answer can only be, the progress of humanity, and the end\nfurther progress. Some of the writers in this book will indicate the\npoint at which in their view this progress is in contact with the\ninfinite, with something not given in history; but, whatever our view of\nthe transcendental problem may be, it is of the utmost importance for\nall of us to realize that we have given to us in the actual process of\ntime, in concrete history, a development of humanity, a growth from a\nlower to a higher state of being, which may be most perfectly realized\nin the individual consciousness, fully awake and fully socialized, but\nis also clearly traceable in the doings of the human race as a whole.\nSuch is in fact the uniting thread of these essays, and when we proceed\nto the converse of this truth and apply this ideal which we have shown\nto be the course of realization, as a governing motive in our lives, it\nis even more imperative to strive constantly to keep the whole\ntogether, and not to regard either knowledge or power or beauty or even\nlove as an ultimate and supreme thing to which all other ends are merely\nmeans. The end is a more perfect man, developed by the perfecting of all\nmankind.\n\nSuch a conception embraces all the separate aspects of our nature each\nin its place, and each from its own angle supreme. Love and knowledge\ninseparable and fundamental, freedom and happiness essential conditions\nof healthy growth, personality developed with the development of the\ngreater personality in which we all live and grow. This greater\npersonality is at its highest immeasurably above us, and has no\nassignable limits in time or in capacity to know, to love, or to enjoy.\nWe cannot fix its origin at any known point in the birth of planets, nor\ndoes the cooling of our sun nor of all the suns seem to put any limit in\nour imagination to the continuous unfolding of life like our own. While\nthus practically infinite, the ideal of human nature is revealed to us\nconcretely in countless types of goodness and truth and beauty which we\nmay know and love and imitate. To all it is open to study the lineaments\nof this ideal in the records and figures of the past; to most it is\nrevealed in some fellow beings known in life. From these, the human\nspirits which embody the strivings, the hopes, the conquered failings of\nthe past, we may form our better selves and build the humanity of the\nfuture.\n\nThere is a famous and magnificent passage in Dante's _Purgatorio_ which\nCatholic commentators interpret in sacramental terms but we may well\napply in a wider sense to the progress of the human spirit towards the\nideal. It occurs at that crucial point where the ascending poet leaves\nthe circles of sad repentance to reach the higher regions of growing\nlight.\n\n     'And when we came there, to the first step, it was of white\n     marble, so polished that I could see myself just as I am.\n\n     'And the second was coloured dark, a rugged stone, cracked\n     lengthwise and across. And the third piled above it was\n     flaming porphyry, red like the blood from a vein.\n\n     'Above this one was the angel of God, sitting on the\n     threshold, bright as a diamond.\n\n     'Up the three steps my master led me with goodwill and then\n     he said, \"Beg humbly that he unlock the door.\"'[4]\n\nLike this, the path man has to tread is not an easy progress. But he is\nrising all the time and he rises on steps of his own past. He sees\nreflected in them the image of himself, and he sees too the deep faults\nin his nature, and the rough surface of his path through time. The last\nstep, tinged by his own blood, gives access to a higher dwelling, firm\nand bright and leading higher still. But it is open only after a long\nascent, and to the human spirit that has worked faithfully, with love\nfor his comrades and leaders, and reverence for the laws which bind both\nthe world and him.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nJohn Grote, _Examination of Utilitarian Philosophy_.\n\nKant, _Principles of Politics_ (translated by Hastie and published by\nClark) contains his smaller works on Universal History, Perpetual Peace,\nand the Principle of Progress. See also the _Essay on Herder_.\n\nComte's _Positive Polity_, vols. i. and ii, passim.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] 'usus et impigrae simul experientia mentis\n     paulatim docuit pedetemtim progredientes.'\n\n[2] Comte, _Positive Polity_, ii 116.\n\n[3] See Delisle Burns, _Morality of Nations_, and _The Unity of Western\nCivilization_, passim.\n\n[4] _Purgatorio_, ix. 94-108.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nPROGRESS IN PREHISTORIC TIMES\n\nR. R. MARETT\n\n\nIf I am unable to deliver this lecture in person, it will be because I\nhave to attend in Jersey to the excavation of a cave once occupied by\nmen of the Glacial Epoch. Now these men knew how to keep a good fire\nburning within their primitive shelter; their skill in the chase\nprovided them with a well-assorted larder; their fine strong teeth were\nsuch as to make short work of their meals; lastly, they were clever\nartisans and one may even say artists in flint and greenstone, not only\nhaving the intelligence to make an economic use of the material at their\ndisposal, but likewise having enough sense of form to endow their\nimplements with more than a touch of symmetry and beauty. All this we\nknow from what they have left behind them; and the rest is silence.\n\nAnd now let us imagine ourselves possessed of one of those time-machines\nof which Mr. H. G. Wells is the inventor. Transported by such means to\nthe Europe of that distant past, could we undertake to beat the record\nof those cave-men?\n\nClearly, all will depend on how many of us, and how much of the\napparatus of civilization, our time-machine is able to accommodate. If\nit were simply to drop a pair of us, naked and presumably ashamed, into\nthe midst of the rigours of the great Ice Age, the chances surely are\nthat the unfortunate immigrants must perish within a week. Adam could\nhardly manage to kindle a fire without the help of matches. Eve would\nbe no less sorely troubled to make clothes without the help of a needle.\nOn the other hand, if the time-machine were as capacious as Noah's Ark,\nthe venture would undoubtedly succeed, presenting no greater difficulty\nthan, let us say, the planting of a settlement in Labrador or on the\nYukon. Given numbers, specialized labour, tools, weapons, books,\ndomesticated animals and plants, and so forth, the civilized community\nwould do more than hold its own with the prehistoric cave-man, devoid of\nall such aids to life. Indeed, it is tolerably certain that, willingly\nor unwillingly, our colonists would soon drive the ancient type of man\nclean out of existence.\n\nOn the face of it, then, it would seem that we, as compared with men of\nGlacial times, have decidedly 'progressed'. But it is not so easy to say\noff-hand in what precisely such progress consists.\n\nAre we happier? As well ask whether the wild wolf or the tame dog is the\nhappier animal. The truth would seem to be that wolf and dog alike can\nbe thoroughly happy each in its own way; whereas each would be as\nthoroughly miserable, if forced to live the life of the other. In one of\nhis most brilliant passages Andrew Lang, after contrasting the mental\ncondition of one of our most distant ancestors with yours or mine, by no\nmeans to our disadvantage, concludes with these words: 'And after all he\nwas probably as happy as we are; it is not saying much.'[5]\n\nBut, if not happier, are we nobler? If I may venture to speak as a\nphilosopher, I should reply, confidently, 'Yes.' It comes to this, that\nwe have and enjoy more soul. On the intellectual side, we see farther\nafield. On the moral side, our sympathies are correspondingly wider.\nImaginatively, and even to no small extent practically, we are in touch\nwith myriads of men, present and past. We participate in a world-soul;\nand by so doing are advanced in the scale of spiritual worth and dignity\nas members of the human race. Yet this common soul of mankind we know\nlargely and even chiefly as something divided against itself. Not only\ndo human ideals contradict each other; but the ideal in any and all of\nits forms is contradicted by the actual. So it is the discontent of the\nhuman world-soul that is mainly borne in upon him who shares in it most\nfully. A possibility of completed good may glimmer at the far end of the\nquest; but the quest itself is experienced as a bitter striving. Bitter\nthough it may be, however, it is likewise ennobling. Here, then, I find\nthe philosophic, that is, the ultimate and truest, touchstone of human\nprogress, namely, in the capacity for that ennobling form of experience\nwhereby we become conscious co-workers and co-helpers in an age-long,\nworld-wide striving after the good.\n\nBut to-day I come before you, not primarily as a philosopher, but rather\nas an anthropologist, a student of prehistoric man. I must therefore\ndefine progress, not in the philosophic or ultimate way, but simply as\nmay serve the strictly limited aims of my special science. As an\nanthropologist, I want a workable definition--one that will set me\nworking and keep me working on promising lines. I do not ask ultimate\ntruth of my anthropological definition. For my science deals with but a\nsingle aspect of reality; and the other aspects of the real must\nlikewise be considered on their merits before a final account can be\nrendered of it.\n\nNow anthropology is just the scientific history of man; and I suppose\nthat there could be a history of man that did without the idea of human\nprogress altogether. Progress means, in some sense, change for the\nbetter. But, strictly, history as such deals with fact; and is not\nconcerned with questions of better or worse--in a word, with value.\nHence, it must always be somewhat arbitrary on the part of an historian\nto identify change in a given direction with a gain or increase in\nvalue. Nevertheless, the anthropologist may do so, if he be prepared to\ntake the risk. He sees that human life has on the whole grown more\ncomplex. He cannot be sure that it will continue to grow more complex.\nMuch less has he a right to lay it down for certain that it ought to\ngrow more complex. But so long as he realizes that he is thereby\ncommitting himself by implication to a prophetic and purposive\ninterpretation of the facts, he need not hesitate to style this growth\nof complexity progress so far as man is concerned. For if he is an\nanthropologist, he is also a man, and cannot afford to take a wholly\nexternal and impartial view of the process whereby the very growth of\nhis science is itself explained. Anthropologists though we be, we run\nwith the other runners in the race of life, and cannot be indifferent to\nthe prize to be won.\n\nProgress, then, according to the anthropologist, is defined as increase\nin complexity, with the tacit assumption that this somehow implies\nbetterment, though it is left with the philosopher to justify such an\nassumption finally and fully. Whereas in most cases man would seem to\nhave succeeded in the struggle for existence by growing more complex,\nthough in some cases survival has been secured by way of simplification,\nanthropology concentrates its attention on the former set of cases as\nthe more interesting and instructive even from a theoretical point of\nview. Let biology by all means dispense with the notion of progress, and\nconsider man along with the other forms of life as subject to mere\nprocess. But anthropology, though in a way it is a branch of biology,\nhas a right to a special point of view. For it employs special methods\ninvolving the use of a self-knowledge that in respect to the other forms\nof life is inevitably wanting. Anthropology, in short, like charity,\nbegins at home. Because we know in ourselves the will to progress, we go\non to seek for evidences of progress in the history of mankind. Nor need\nwe cease to think of progress as something to be willed, something that\nconcerns the inner man, even though for scientific purposes we undertake\nto recognize it by some external sign, as, for instance, by the sign of\nan increasing complexity, that is, such differentiation as likewise\ninvolves greater cohesion. All history, and more especially the history\nof early man, must deal primarily with externals. Thence it infers the\ninner life; and thereby it controls the tendency known as 'the\npsychologist's fallacy', namely, that of reading one's own mind into\nthat of another man without making due allowance for differences of\ninnate capacity and of acquired outlook. In what follows, then, let us,\nas anthropologists, be content to judge human progress in prehistoric\ntimes primarily by its external and objective manifestations; yet let us\nat no point in our inquiries forget that these ancient men, some of whom\nare our actual ancestors, were not only flesh of our flesh, but likewise\nspirit of our spirit.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA rapid sketch such as this must take for granted on the part of the\naudience some general acquaintance with that succession of prehistoric\nepochs which modern research has definitely established. Pre-history, as\ndistinguished from proto-history, may, in reference to Europe as a\nwhole, be made coextensive with the Stone Age. This divides into the Old\nStone Age and the New. The Old Stone Age, or Palaeolithic Period, yields\nthree well-marked subdivisions, termed Early, Middle, and Late. The New\nStone Age, or Neolithic Period, includes two sub-periods, the Earlier or\nTransitional, and the Later or Typical. Thus our historical survey will\nfall naturally into five chapters.\n\nThere are reasons, however, why it will be more convenient to move over\nthe whole ground twice. The material on which our judgements must be\nfounded is not all of one kind. Anthropology is the joint work of two\ndepartments, which are known as Physical Anthropology and Cultural\nAnthropology respectively. The former, we may say, deals with man as an\norganism, the latter with him as an organizer. Here, then, are very\ndifferent standpoints. For, in a broad way of speaking, nature controls\nman through his physical organization, whereas through his cultural\norganization man controls nature. From each of these standpoints in\nturn, then, let us inquire how far prehistoric man can be shown to have\nprogressed. First, did the breed improve during the long course of the\nStone Age in Europe? Secondly, did the arts of life advance, so that by\ntheir aid man might establish himself more firmly in his kingdom?\n\nDid the breed improve during prehistoric times? I have said that,\nbroadly speaking, nature controls man as regards his physical endowment.\nNow in theory one must admit that it might be otherwise. If Eugenics\nwere to mature on its purely scientific side, there is no reason why the\nlegislator of the future should not try to make a practical application\nof its principles; and the chances are that, of many experiments, some\nwould prove successful. But that conscious breeding was practised in\nprehistoric times is out of the question. The men of those days were one\nand all what we are ourselves--nature's mongrels, now broken up into\nvarieties by casual isolation, and now by no less casual intermixture\nrecompounded in a host of relatively unstable forms. Whatever progress,\ntherefore, may have occurred in this respect has been unconscious. Man\ncannot take the credit for it, except in so far as it is indirectly due\nto that increase and spread of the race which have been promoted by his\nachievements in the way of culture.\n\nThe barest outline of the facts must suffice. For the Early Pleistocene,\napart from the Java fossil, _Pithecanthropus erectus_, a veritable\n'missing link', whom we may here disregard as falling altogether outside\nour world of Europe, there are only two individuals that can with\ncertainty be referred to this distant period. These are the Piltdown and\nthe Heidelberg specimens. The former consists of a fragmentary\nbrain-case, thick-boned and narrow-fronted, but typically human in its\ngeneral characters, and of the greater part of a lower jaw, which, as\nregards both its own elongated and curiously flanged structure, and that\nof the teeth it contained, including an enormous pointed canine, is\nconversely more appropriate to an ape-like being than to a man. The\nlatter consists only of a lower jaw, of which the teeth, even the\ncanines, are altogether human, whereas the jaw itself is hardly less\nsimian than that of the Sussex skull. If we add the Java example to the\nlist of very primitive forms, it is remarkable to note how, though\ndiffering widely from each other, all alike converge on the ape.\nNevertheless, even in Pithecanthropus, the brute is passing into the\nman. We note the erect attitude, to be inferred from his thigh-bone, and\nthe considerably enlarged, though even so hardly human, brain. The\nPiltdown individual, on the other hand, has crossed the Rubicon. He has\na brain-capacity entitling him to rank as a man and an Englishman. Such\na brain, too, implies a cunning hand, which doubtless helped him greatly\nto procure his food, even if his massive jaw enabled him to dispose of\nthe food in question without recourse to the adventitious aids of knife\nand fork. For the matter of that, if our knowledge made it possible to\ncorrelate these rare finds of bones more exactly with the innumerable\nflint implements ascribable to this period (and, indeed, not without\nanalogies among the spoil from the Piltdown gravels), it might turn out\nthat even the equivalent of knife and fork was not wanting to the Early\nPleistocene supper-party, or, at any rate, that the human hand was\nalready advanced from the status of labourer to the more dignified\nposition of superintendent of the tool.\n\nThe Middle Pleistocene Epoch belongs to the men of the Neanderthal type.\nSome thirty specimens, a few of them more or less complete, have come\ndown to us, and we can form a pretty clear notion of the physical\nappearance of the race. Speaking generally, we may say that it marks a\nstage of progress as compared with the Piltdown type; though, if the\njaw, heavy and relatively chinless as it is, has become less simian, the\nprotruding brow-ridge lends a monstrous look to the face, while the\nforehead is markedly receding--a feature which turns out, however, to be\nnot incompatible with a weight of brain closely approaching our own\naverage. Whether this type has disappeared altogether from the earth, or\nsurvives in certain much modified descendants, is an open question. The\nfact remains that during the last throes of the Glacial Epoch this\nrough-hewn kind of man apparently had Northern Europe as his exclusive\nprovince; and it is by no means evident what _Homo Sapiens_, the\nsupposed highly superior counterpart and rival of _Homo\nNeanderthalensis_, was doing with himself in the meantime. Moreover, not\nonly in respect of space does the population of that frozen world show\nremarkable homogeneity; but also in respect of time must we allow it an\nundisputed sway extending over thousands of years, during which the race\nbred true. The rate of progress, whether reckoned in physical terms or\notherwise, is so slow as to be almost imperceptible. A type suffices for\nan age. Whereas in the life-history of an individual there is rapid\ndevelopment during youth, and after maturity a steadying down, it is the\nother way about in the life-history of the race. Man, so to speak, was\nborn old and accommodated to a jog-trot. We moderns are the juveniles,\nand it is left for us to go the pace.\n\nYet Late Pleistocene Period introduces us to more diversity in the way\nof human types. Only one race, however, that named after the\nrock-shelter of Cro-Magnon in the Dordogne, is represented by a fair\nnumber of specimens, namely, about a dozen. At this point we come\nsuddenly and without previous warning on as pretty a kind of man as\never walked this earth. In his leading characters he is remarkably\nuniform. Six feet high and long-legged, he likewise possessed a head\nwell stocked with brains and a face that, if rather broad and short,\nwas furnished by way of compensation with a long and narrow nose. If\nthe present world can show nothing quite like him, it at least cannot\nproduce anything more shapely in the way of the 'human form divine'.\nApart from the Cro-Magnons, the remains of an old woman and a youth\nfound at the lowest level of the Grotte des Enfants at Mentone are\nusually held to belong to a distinct stock known as the Grimaldi. The\nphysical characters of the pair are regarded as negroid, verging on\nthe Pygmy; but if we could study an adult male of the same stock, it\nmight possibly turn out not to be so very divergent from the\nCro-Magnon. Again, a single specimen does duty for the so-called\nChancelade race. The skeleton is of comparatively low stature, and is\ndeemed to show close affinities to the type of the modern Eskimo.\nWithout being unduly sceptical, one may once more wonder if the\nCro-Magnon stock may not have produced this somewhat aberrant form.\nEven on such a theory, however--and it is hardly orthodox--diversity\nof physical structure would seem to be on the increase. On the other\nhand, there are reasons of considerable cogency for referring to the\nend of this period skeletons of what Huxley termed the 'River-bed\ntype', the peculiarity of which consists in the fact that they are\nmore or less indistinguishable from the later Neolithic men and indeed\nfrom any of those slight-built, shortish, long-headed folk who form\nthe majority in the crowded cities of to-day. Some authorities would\nascribe a far greater antiquity to this type, but, I venture to think,\non the strength of doubtful evidence. The notorious Galley Hill\nskeleton, for instance, found more or less intact in an Early\nPleistocene bed in which the truly contemporary animals are\nrepresented by the merest battered remnants, to my mind reeks of\nmodernity. Be these things as they may, however, when we come to\nNeolithic times a race of similar physical characters has Europe to\nitself, though it would seem to display minor variations in a way that\nsuggests that the reign of the mongrel has at length begun. And here\nwe may close our enumeration of the earliest known branches of our\nfamily tree, since the coming of the broad-heads pertains to the\nhistory of the Bronze Age, and hence falls outside the scope of the\npresent survey.\n\nNow what is the bearing of these somewhat scanty data on the question of\nprogress? It is not easy to extract from them more than the general\nimpression that, as time went on, the breed made persistent headway as\nregards both the complexity of its organization and the profusion of its\nforms. After all, we must not expect too much from this department of\nthe subject. For one thing, beyond the limits of North-western Europe\nthe record is almost blank; and yet we can scarcely hope to discover the\ncentral breeding-place of man in what is, geographically, little more\nthan a blind alley. In the next place, Physical Anthropology, not only\nin respect to human palaeontology, but in general, is as barren of\nexplanations as it is fertile in detailed observations. The systematic\nstudy of heredity as it bears on the history of the human organism has\nhardly begun. Hence, it would not befit one who is no expert in relation\nto such matters to anticipate the verdict of a science that needs only\npublic encouragement in order to come into its own. Suffice it to\nsuggest here that nature as she presides over organic evolution, that\nis, the unfolding of the germinal powers, may be conceived as a kindly\nbut slow-going and cautious liberator. One by one new powers, hitherto\nlatent, are set free as an appropriate field of exercise is afforded\nthem by the environment. At first divergency is rarely tolerated. A\ngiven type is extremely uniform. On the other hand, when divergency is\npermitted, it counts for a great deal. The wider variations occur\nnearest the beginning, each for a long time breeding true to itself.\nLater on, such uncompromising plurality gives way to a more diffused\nmultiplicity begotten of intermixture. Mongrelization has set in. Not\nbut what there may spring up many true-breeding varieties among the\nmongrels; and these, given suitable conditions, will be allowed to\nconstitute lesser types possessed of fairly uniform characters. Such at\nleast is in barest outline the picture presented by the known facts\nconcerning the physical evolution of man, if one observe it from outside\nwithout attempting to explore the hidden causes of the process. Some\nday, when these causes are better understood, man may take a hand in the\ngame, and become, in regard to the infinite possibilities still sleeping\nin the transmitted germ, a self-liberator. Nature is but a figurative\nexpression for the chances of life, and the wise man faces no more\nchances than he needs must. Scientific breeding is no mere application\nof the multiplication table to a system of items. We must make\nresolutely for the types that seem healthy and capable, suppressing the\ndefectives in a no less thorough, if decidedly more considerate, way\nthan nature has been left to do in the past. Here, then, along physical\nlines is one possible path of human progress, none the less real because\nhitherto pursued, not by the aid of eyes that can look and choose, but\nmerely in response to painful proddings at the tail-end.\n\nOur remaining task is to take stock of that improvement in the arts of\nlife whereby man has come gradually to master an environment that\nformerly mastered him. For the Early Palaeolithic Period our evidence in\nrespect of its variety, if not of its gross quantity, is wofully\ndisappointing. Not to speak of man's first and rudest experiments in the\nutilization of stone, which are doubtless scattered about the world in\ngoodly numbers if only we could recognize them clearly for what they\nare, the Chellean industry by its wide distribution leads one to suppose\nthat mankind in those far-off days was only capable of one idea at a\ntime--a time, too, that lasted a whole age. Yet the succeeding Acheulean\nstyle of workmanship in flint testifies to the occurrence of progress in\none of its typical forms, namely, in the form of what may be termed\n'intensive' progress. The other typical form I might call 'intrusive'\nprogress, as happens when a stimulating influence is introduced from\nwithout. Now it may be that the Acheulean culture came into being as a\nresult of contact between an immigrant stock and a previous population\npractising the Chellean method of stone-work. We are at present far too\nill-informed to rule out such a guess. But, on the face of it, the\ngreater refinement of the Acheulean handiwork looks as if it had been\nliterally hammered out by steadfastly following up the Chellean pattern\ninto its further possibilities. Explain it as we will, this evolution of\nthe so-called _coup-de-poing_ affords almost the sole proof that the\nhuman world of that remote epoch was moving at all. If we could see\ntheir work in wood, we might discern a more diversified skill or we\nmight not. As it is, we can but conclude in the light of our very\nimperfect knowledge that in mind no less than in body mankind of Early\nPalaeolithic times displayed a fixity of type almost amounting to that\nof one of the other animal species.\n\nDuring Middle Palaeolithic times the Mousterian culture rules without a\nrival. The cave-period has begun; and, thanks to the preservation of\nsundry dwelling-places together with a goodly assortment of their less\nperishable contents, we can frame a fairly adequate notion of the\nhome-life of Neanderthal man. I have already alluded to my excavations\nin Jersey, and need not enter into fuller details here. But I should\nlike to put on record the opinion borne in upon me by such first-hand\nexperience as I have had that cultural advance in Mousterian days was\nalmost as portentously slow as ever it had been before. The human\ndeposits in the Jersey cave are in some places about ten feet thick, and\nthe fact that they fall into two strata separated by a sterile layer\nthat appears to consist of the dust of centuries points to a very long\nprocess of accumulation. Yet though there is one kind of elephant\noccurring amid the bone refuse at the bottom of the bed, and another\nand, it would seem, later kind at the top, one and the same type of\nflint instrument is found at every level alike; and the only development\none can detect is a certain gain in elegance as regards the Mousterian\n'point', the reigning substitute for the former _coup-de-poing_. Once\nmore there is intensive progress only, so far at least as most of the\nJersey evidence goes. One _coup-de-poing_, however, and that hardly\nAcheulean in conception but exactly what a hand accustomed to the\nfashioning of the Mousterian 'point' would be likely to make by way of\nan imitation of the once fashionable pattern, lay at lowest floor-level;\nas if to remind one that during periods of transition the old is likely\nto survive by the side of the new, and may even survive in it as a\nmodifying element. As a matter of fact, the _coup-de-poing_ is frequent\nin the earliest Mousterian sites; so that we cannot but ask ourselves\nhow it came to be in the end superseded. Whether the Mousterians were of\na different race from the Acheuleans is not known. Certain it is, on the\nother hand, that the industry that makes its first appearance in their\ntrain represents a labour-saving device. The Mousterian had learned how\nto break up his flint-nodule into flakes, which simply needed to be\ntrimmed on one face to yield a cutting edge. The Acheulean had been\ncontent to attain this result more laboriously by pecking a pebble on\nboth faces until what remained was sharp enough for his purpose. Here,\nthen, we are confronted with that supreme condition of progress, the\ninventor's happy thought. One of those big-brained Neanderthal men, we\nmay suppose, had genius; nature, the liberator, having released some\nlatent power in the racial constitution. Given such a culture-hero, the\ncommon herd was capable of carrying on more or less mechanically for an\naeon or so. And so it must ever be. The world had better make the most\nof its geniuses; for they amount to no more than perhaps a single one in\na million. Anyway, Neanderthal man never produced a second genius, so\nfar as we can tell; and that is why, perhaps, his peculiar type of\nbrow-ridge no longer adorns the children of men.\n\nBefore we leave the Mousterians, another side of their culture deserves\nbrief mention. Not only did they provide their dead with rude graves,\nbut they likewise furnished them with implements and food for use in a\nfuture life. Herein surely we may perceive the dawn of what I do not\nhesitate to term religion. A distinguished scholar and poet did indeed\nonce ask me whether the Mousterians, when they performed these rites,\ndid not merely show themselves unable to grasp the fact that the dead\nare dead. But I presume that my friend was jesting. A sympathy stronger\nthan death, overriding its grisly terror, and converting it into the\nvehicle of a larger hope--that is the work of soul; and to develop soul\nis progress. A religious animal is no brute, but a real man with the\nseed of genuine progress in him. If Neanderthal man belonged to another\nspecies, as the experts mostly declare and I very humbly beg leave to\ndoubt, we must even so allow that God made him also after his own image,\nbrow-ridges and all.\n\nThe presence of soul in man is even more manifest when we pass on to the\nLate Palaeolithic peoples. They are cave-dwellers; they live by the\nchase; in a word, they are savages still. But they exhibit a taste and a\ntalent for the fine arts of drawing and carving that, as it were,\nenlarge human existence by a new dimension. Again a fresh power has been\nreleased, and one in which many would seem to have participated; for\ngood artists are as plentiful during this epoch as ever they were in\nancient Athens or mediaeval Florence. They must have married-in somewhat\nclosely, one would think, for this special aptitude to have blossomed\nforth so luxuriantly. I cannot here dwell at length on the triumphs of\nAurignacian and Magdalenian artistry. Indeed, what I have seen with my\nown eyes on the walls of certain French caves is almost too wonderful to\nbe described. The simplicity of the style does not in the least detract\nfrom the fullness of the charm. On the contrary, one is tempted to doubt\nwhether the criterion of complexity applies here--whether, in fact,\nprogress has any meaning in relation to fine art--since, whether\nattained by simple or by complex means, beauty is always beauty, and\ncannot further be perfected. Shall we say, then, with Plato that beauty\nwas revealed to man from the first in its absolute nature, so that the\nhuman soul might be encouraged to seek for the real in its complementary\nforms of truth and goodness, such as are less immediately manifest? For\nthe rest, the soul of these transcendently endowed savages was in other\nrespects more imperfectly illuminated; as may be gathered from the fact\nthat they carved and drew partly from the love of their art, but partly\nalso, and, perhaps, even primarily, for luck. It seems that these\ndelineations of the animals on which they lived were intended to help\nthem towards good hunting. Such is certainly the object of a like custom\non the part of the Australian aborigines; there being this difference,\nhowever, that the art of the latter considered as art is wholly\ninferior. Now we know enough about the soul of the Australian native,\nthanks largely to the penetrating interpretations of Sir Baldwin\nSpencer, to greet and honour in him the potential lord of the universe,\nthe harbinger of the scientific control of nature. It is more than half\nthe battle to have willed the victory; and the picture-charm as a piece\nof moral apparatus is therefore worthy of our deepest respect. The\nchariot of progress, of which the will of man is the driver, is drawn by\ntwo steeds, namely, Imagination and Reason harnessed together. Of the\npair, Reason is the more sluggish, though serviceable enough for the\nheavy work. Imagination, full of fire as it is, must always set the\npace. So the soul of the Late Palaeolithic hunter, having already in\nimagination controlled the useful portion of the animal world, was more\nthan half-way on the road to its domestication. But in so far as he\nmistook the will for the accomplished deed, he was not getting the value\nout of his second horse; or, to drop metaphor, the scientific reason as\nyet lay dormant in his soul. But his dream was to come true presently.\n\nThe Neolithic Period marks the first appearance of the 'cibi-cultural'\npeoples. The food-seekers have become food-raisers. But the change did\nnot come all at once. The earlier Neolithic culture is at best\ntransitional. There may even have been one of those set-backs in culture\nwhich we are apt to ignore when we are narrating the proud tale of human\nadvance. Europe had now finally escaped from the last ravages of an\nArctic climate; but there was cruel demolition to make good, and in the\nmeantime there would seem, as regards man, to have been little doing.\nLife among the kitchen-middens of Denmark was sordid; and the Azilians\nwho pushed up from Spain as far as Scotland did not exactly step into a\nparadise ready-made. Somewhere, however, in the far south-east a higher\nculture was brewing. By steps that have not yet been accurately traced\nlegions of herdsmen and farmer-folk overspread our world, either\nabsorbing or driving before them the roving hunters of the older\ndispensation. We term this, the earliest of true civilizations,\n'neolithic', as if it mattered in the least whether your stone implement\nbe chipped or polished to an edge. The real source of increased power\nand prosperity lay in the domestication of food-animals and food-plants.\nThe man certainly had genius and pluck into the bargain who first\ntrusted himself to the back of an unbroken horse. It needed hardly less\ngenius to discover that it is no use singing charms over the\nseed-bearing grass in order to make it grow, unless some of the seed is\nsaved to be sowed in due season. Society possibly brained the\ninventor--such is the way of the crowd; but, as it duly pocketed the\ninvention, we have perhaps no special cause to complain.\n\nBy way of appreciating the conditions prevailing in the Later Neolithic\nAge, let us consider in turn the Lake-dwellers of Switzerland and the\nDolmen-builders of our Western coast-lands. I was privileged to assist,\non the shore of the Lake of Neuchatel, in the excavation of a site where\none Neolithic village of pile-dwellings had evidently been destroyed by\nfire, and at some later date, just falling within the Stone Age, had\nbeen replaced by another. Here we had lighted on a crucial instance of\nthe march of cultural progress. The very piles testified to it, those of\nthe older settlement being ill-assorted and slight, whereas the later\nstructure was regularly built and heavily timbered. It was clear, too,\nthat the first set of inhabitants had lived narrow lives. All their\nworldly goods were derived from strictly local sources. On the other\nhand, their successors wore shells from the Mediterranean and amber\nbeads from the Baltic among their numerous decorations; while for their\nflint they actually went as far afield as Grand Pressigny in\nWest-Central France, the mines of which provided the butter-like nodules\nthat represented the _ne plus ultra_ of Neolithic luxury. Commerce must\nhave been decidedly flourishing in those days. No longer was it a case\nof the so-called 'silent trade', which the furtive savage prosecutes\nwith fear and trembling, placing, let us say, a lump of venison on a\nrock in the stream dividing his haunts from those of his dangerous\nneighbours, and stealing back later on to see if the red ochre for which\nhe pines has been deposited in return on the primitive counter. The\nNeolithic trader, on the other side, must have pushed the science of\nbarter to the uttermost limits short of the invention of a circulating\nmedium, if indeed some crude form of currency was not already in vogue.\n\nWhen we turn to the Dolmen-builders, and contemplate their hoary\nsanctuaries, we are back among the problems raised by the philosophic\nconception of progress as an advance in soul-power. Is any religion\nbetter than none? Does it make for soul-power to be preoccupied with the\ncult of the dead? Does the imagination, which in alliance with the\nscientific reason achieves such conquests over nature, give way at times\nto morbid aberration, causing the chill and foggy loom of an after-life\nto obscure the honest face of the day? I can only say for myself that\nthe deepening of the human consciousnesses due to the effort to close\nwith the mystery of evil and death, and to extort therefrom a message of\nhope and comfort, seems to me to have been worth the achievement at\nalmost any cost of crimes and follies perpetrated by the way. I do not\nthink that progress in religion is progress towards its ultimate\nabolition. Rather, religion, if regarded in the light of its earlier\nhistory, must be treated as the parent source of all the more spiritual\nactivities of man; and on these his material activities must depend.\nElse the machine will surely grind the man to death; and his body will\nfinally stop the wheels that his soul originally set in motion.\n\nThe panorama is over. It has not been easy, at the rate of about a\nmillennium to a minute, to present a coherent account of the prehistoric\nrecord, which at best is like a jig-saw puzzle that has lost most of the\npieces needed to reconstitute the design. But, even on this hasty\nshowing, it looks as if the progressive nature of man were beyond\nquestion. There is manifest gain in complexity of organization, both\nphysical and cultural; and only less manifest, in the sense that the\ninwardness of the process cannot make appeal to the eye, is the\ncorresponding gain in realized power of soul. In short, the men of the\nStone Age assuredly bore their full share in the work of\nrace-improvement; and the only point on which there may seem to be doubt\nis whether we of the age of metal are as ready and able to bear our\nshare. But let us be optimistic about ourselves. As long as we do not\nallow our material achievements to blind us to the need of an education\nthat keeps the spiritual well to the fore, then progress is assured so\nfar as it depends on culture.\n\nYet if we could likewise breed for spirituality, humanity's chances, I\nbelieve, would be bettered by as much again or more. But how is this to\nbe done? Science must somehow find out. To leave it to nature is treason\nto the mind. Man may be an ass on the whole, but nature is even more of\nan ass, especially when it stands for human nature minus its saving\ngrace of imaginative, will-directed intelligence. So let us hope that\none day people will marry intelligently, and that the best marriages\nwill be the richest in offspring. I believe that the spiritual is not\nborn of the sickly; and at any rate should be prepared to make trial of\nsuch a working principle in my New Republic.\n\nSo much for the practical corollaries suggested by our flying visit to\nPrehistoric Europe. But, even if any detailed lessons to be drawn from\nsuch fragmentary facts have to be received with caution, you need not\nhesitate to pursue this branch of study for its own sake as part of the\ngeneral training of the mind. Accustom yourselves to a long perspective.\nCultivate the eagle's faculty of spacious vision. It is only thus that\none can get the values right--see right and wrong, truth and error,\nbeauty and ugliness in their broad and cumulative effects. Analytic\nstudies, as they are termed, involving the exploration of the meaning of\nreceived ideas, must come first in any scheme of genuine education. We\nmust learn to affirm before we can go on to learn how to criticize. But\nhistorical studies are a necessary sequel. Other people's received ideas\nturn out in the light of history to have sometimes worked well, and\nsometimes not so well; and we are thereupon led to revise our own\nopinions accordingly. Now the history of man has hitherto stood almost\nexclusively for the history of European civilization. Being so limited,\nit loses most of its value as an instrument of criticism. For how can a\nsingle phase of culture criticize itself? How can it step out of the\nscales and assess its own weight? Anthropology, however, will never\nacquiesce in this parochial view of the province of history. History\nworthy of the name must deal with man universal. So I would have you all\nbecome anthropologists. Let your survey of human progress be age-long\nand world-wide. You come of a large family and an ancient one. Learn to\nbe proud of it, and then you will seek likewise to be worthy of it.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nW. J. Sollas, _Ancient Hunters and their Modern Representatives_, 2nd\nedition, 1915.\n\nE. A. Parkyn, _Introduction to the study of Prehistoric Art_.\n\nR. R. Marett, _Anthropology_ (Home University Library).\n\nJ. L. Myres, _Dawn of History_ (Home University).\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[5] Presidential Address to the International Folk-Lore Congress, 1891,\np. 9.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nPROGRESS AND HELLENISM\n\nF. MELIAN STAWELL\n\n\nTo speak the truth about national characteristics it is often necessary\nto speak in paradoxes, for of all unities on earth nothing contains so\nmany contradictions as a nation. So it is here: it may be said quite\ntruly that the Greeks had at once the most profound conceptions about\nProgress and no faith in it: that they were at once the most hopeful and\nthe most despairing of peoples. Let me try to explain. When we speak of\na faith in Progress, whatever else we mean, we must mean, I take it,\nthat there is a real advance in human welfare throughout time from the\nPast to the Future, that 'the best is yet to be', and that the good wine\nis kept to the last. But if we are to have a philosophy underlying that\nfaith we must be able to say something more. What, in the first place,\ndo we mean by 'a real advance'? Or by 'human welfare'? Progress, yes,\nbut progress towards what? What is the standard? And if we cannot\nindicate a standard, what right have we to say that one life is any\nbetter than another? The life of the scientific man any better than the\nlife of the South Sea Islander--content if only he has enough bananas to\neat? Or than the life of a triumphant conqueror, a Zenghis Khan or a\nTamberlaine--exultant if he has enough human heads before him? Or,\nindeed, any of these rather than the blank of Nirvana or the life of a\nvegetable?\n\nOur first need, then, is the need of a standard for good over and above\nthe conflicting opinions of men, and some idea as to what that standard\nimplies.\n\nAnd the next question is, why we should hold that any of this good is\ngoing to be realized in human life at all? If it is, there must be some\nconnexion of cause and effect between goodness and human existence. What\nis the nature of that connexion? Finally, why should we hope that this\ngoodness is realized more and more fully as time goes on?\n\nThe Greeks faced these questions, as they faced so many, with\nextraordinary daring and penetration and with an intimate mixture of\nsadness and hope.\n\nThey themselves, of all nations known to us in history, had made the\ngreatest progress in the shortest space of time. A long course of\npreparation, it is true, underlay that marvellous growth. The classical\nGreeks,--and when I speak of Hellenism I mean the flower of classical\nGreek culture,--the classical Greeks entered into the labours of the\nisland peoples, who, whether kindred to them or not, had built up from\nneolithic times a great civilization, the major part of which they\ncould, and did, assimilate. They found the soil already worked. None the\nless it is to their own original genius that we owe those great\ndiscoveries of the spirit which, to quote a recent writer, 'created a\nnew world of science and art, established an ideal of the sane mind in\nthe sane body and the perfect man in the perfect society, cut out a new\nline of progress between anarchy and despotism, and made moral ends\nsupreme over national in the State.'[6]\n\nBut these practical achievements of theirs have been already summed up\nby Professor J. A. Smith in his lecture[7] at this school last year, and\nit is to that lecture that I would refer you. I will take it as a basis\nand proceed for my own purposes to discuss the Greek conceptions about\nprogress. Those conceptions were complex, and, speaking roughly, we may\nsay this: if belief in real progress implies belief in three things,\nnamely, (1) an absolute standard apprehended, however dimly, by man, (2)\na causal connexion between existence and perfection, and (3) a\npersistent advance through time, then the Greeks held to the first two\nand doubted, or even denied, the third. Their two great thinkers, Plato\nand Aristotle, worked out systems based on the conviction that there\nreally was an absolute standard of perfection, that man could really\napprehend something of this perfection, and that the effort towards it\nwas essential to the very existence of the world, part of the stuff, as\nit were, that made the universe. These systems have had an effect not to\nbe exaggerated on the whole movement of thought since their day.\nMoreover, many of their fundamental conceptions are being revived in\nmodern science and metaphysics. And the convictions that underlie them\nare calculated, one would say, to lead at once to a buoyant faith in\nprogress. But with Plato, and Aristotle, and the Greeks generally, they\ndid not so lead. The Greeks could not feel sure that this effort towards\nperfection, though it is part of existence, is strong enough to deliver\nman in this world from the web of evil in which also he is involved, nor\neven that he makes any approach on the whole towards the loosening of\nthe toils. The spectre of world-destruction, as Whitman says of Carlyle,\nwas always before them. And I wish to ask later on if we may not surmise\ndefinite reasons in their own history for this recurring note of\ndiscouragement. But let us first look at the positive side, and first in\nPlato. Plato came to his system by several lines of thought, and to\nunderstand it we ought to take account of all.\n\n1. In the first place no thinker, I suppose, ever felt more keenly than\nhe felt the desire for an absolute standard of truth, especially in\nmatters of right and wrong, if only to decide between the disputes of\nmen. And, in Greece men disputed so boldly and so incessantly that there\nwas no possibility of forgetting the clash of opinion in any 'dogmatic\nslumber'. Thus Plato is always asking, like Robert Browning in 'Rabbi\nBen Ezra',--\n\n      Now, who shall arbitrate?\n      Ten men love what I hate,\n    Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;\n      Ten who in ears and eyes\n      Match me: we all surmise,\n    They this thing, and I that; whom shall my soul believe?\n\nIn one of his very earliest dialogues, the 'Euthyphro', Plato puts the\nquestion almost in so many words. What is it, he asks (7 A-E), that men\nquarrel over most passionately when they dispute? Is it not over the\ngreat questions of justice and injustice, of beauty, goodness, and the\nlike? They do not quarrel thus over a question of physical size, simply\nbecause they can settle such a dispute by reference to an unquestioned\nstandard, a standard measure, let us say.\n\nIf there is no corresponding standard for right and wrong, if each man\nis really the judge and the measure for himself, then there is no sense,\nPlato feels, in claiming that one man is wiser than another in conduct,\nor indeed any man wiser than a dog-faced baboon (_Theaet._ 161 C-E).\n\n2. Again, Plato feels most poignantly the inadequacy of all the goodness\nand beauty we have ever actually seen in this world of space and time,\ncompared with the ideal we have of them in their perfection. How can we\nhave this sense of deficiency, he asks, unless somehow we apprehend\nsomething supreme, over and above all the approaches to it that have as\nyet appeared? (_Phaedo_, 74 E).\n\nThis vision of an absolute perfection, as yet unrealized on earth, so\ndominates all his thinking, and has such peculiar features of its own,\nthat even familiar quotations must be quoted here. You will find an\nexquisite translation of a typical passage in our Poet Laureate's\nAnthology, _The Spirit of Man_ (No. 37). Specially to be noted here is\nthe stress on the unchanging character of this eternal perfection and\nthe suggestion that it cannot be fully realized in the world. At the\nsame time, Plato is equally sure that it is only through the study of\nthis world that our apprehension of that perfection is awakened at\nall:--\n\n     'He who has thus been instructed in the science of Love, and\n     has been led to see beautiful things in their due order and\n     rank, when he comes toward the end of his discipline, will\n     suddenly catch sight of a wondrous thing, beautiful with the\n     absolute Beauty ... he will see a Beauty eternal, not\n     growing or decaying, not waxing or waning, nor will it be\n     fair here and foul there ... as if fair to some and foul to\n     others ... but Beauty absolute, separate, simple, and\n     everlasting; which lending of its virtue to all beautiful\n     things that we see born to decay, itself suffers neither\n     increase nor diminution, nor any other change' (_Symp._\n     211).\n\nAll beautiful things remind man, Plato tells us in his mythological\nfashion, of this perfect Beauty, because we had seen it once before in\nanother life, before our souls were born into this world, 'that blissful\nsight and spectacle' (_Phaedrus_, 250 B) when we followed Zeus in his\nwinged car and all the company of the gods, and went out into the realm\nbeyond the sky, a realm 'of which no mortal poet has ever sung or ever\nwill sing worthily'.\n\n3. But, beside this passion for the ideal, Plato was intensely\ninterested in our knowledge of the actual world of appearances around\nus. And one of the prime questions with which he was then concerned was\nthe question, what we mean when we talk about the nature or character\nof the things we see, a plant, say, or an animal, or a man. We must mean\nsomething definite, otherwise we could not recognize, for example, that\na plant _is_ a plant through all its varieties and all the different\nstages of its growth. Plato's answer was, that in all natural things\nthere is a definite principle that copies, as it were, a definite Type\nor Form, and this Type he calls an Idea. Thus in some sense it is this\nType, this Idea, this Form, that brings the particular thing into being.\n\n4. But it was not enough for Plato to say that every natural thing had\nin some sense a certain type for its basis, unless he could believe that\nthis type was good, and that all the types were harmonious with each\nother. He could only be satisfied with the world, in short, if he could\nfeel that it came about through a movement towards perfection. He makes\nhis Socrates say that in asking about 'the causes of things, what it is\nthat makes each thing come into being', it was not enough for him if he\ncould only see that the thing was there because something had put it\nthere: he also wanted to see that it was good for it to be there.\nSocrates tells us that what he needed he thought he had found in a book\nby Anaxagoras, which announced 'that Mind was the disposer and cause of\nall' because, 'I said to myself, If this be so--if Mind is the orderer,\nit will have all in order, and put every single thing in the place that\nis best for it'.[8]\n\nIt is the same feeling as that which underlies the words of Genesis\nabout the Creation, 'And God saw that it was good'. And there is no\ndoubt that such a view of the world would be supremely satisfying if we\ncould count it true. There may be considerable intellectual\nsatisfaction, no doubt, in merely solving a puzzle as to how things come\nabout, but it is as nothing compared to the joy there would be in\ncontemplating their goodness.\n\n5. But is it true? Can we possibly say so in view of the hideous\nimperfection round us? The writers of Genesis spoke of a Fall. Plato, in\nhis own way, speaks of a Fall himself. He never gives up the belief in\nan Absolute Perfection, a system of Perfect Types somehow--he does not\nsay exactly how--influencing the structure of things in this world. But\nhe holds that on earth this perfection is always thwarted by a medium\nwhich prevents its full manifestation. This medium is the medium of\nSpace and Time, and therefore the medium of history--and therefore\nhistory is always and inevitably a record of failure. 'While we are in\nthe body,' Plato writes, 'and while the soul is contaminated with its\nevils, our desire will never be thoroughly satisfied.'[9] 'The body is a\ntomb,' he writes elsewhere, quoting a current phrase.\n\nThis is sad enough: yet if we put against it Plato's vision of what Man\nmight be, we get as inspiring words as ever were written:\n\n'We have spoken of Man', he says at the end of the _Republic_, 'as he\nappears to us now, but now he looks as Glaucus looked after he had been\ncast into the sea, and his original nature was scarcely to be discerned,\nfor his limbs were broken and crushed and defaced by the waters, and\nstrange things had grown round him, shells and seaweed and stones, so\nthat he was more like a beast than a man. That is how the soul looks to\nus now encompassed by all her evils. It is elsewhere, my friend, that we\nought to look.' Where? asks Plato's friend, and Plato answers, 'We\nshould look to her love of wisdom and realize what she clings to, what\ncompany she desires, for she is akin to the Divine and Immortal and\nEternal, and we should understand what she would become if she followed\nafter it, with all her strength, and were lifted by that effort out of\nthe sea where she now lies.... Then we should understand her real\nnature.' (_Republic_, 611.)\n\nSomewhere, Plato believes, this true nature of man may be realized. The\nPrinciple of Good is something active, not a dead helpless thing, with\nno effect on the rest of the universe (_Sophist_, 248, 249); it is a\nliving power, which desires that everything everywhere should be as\nglorious as possible (_Tim._ 29 D). There is no envy, Plato says, in the\nDivine, that grudging spirit has no part in the heavenly company. Only\nit is not on earth that the glory can be realized. It is towards the\nlife after death that Plato's real hopes are directed.\n\nNone the less, and this is important, this world does not cease to be\nsignificant for him. He does not turn aside,--as some souls, intoxicated\nwith the Divine, have done,--from this world altogether.\n\nBecause he holds that man can only advance by struggling to make this\nworld better. Man's ordinary life may be like the life in a cave, as he\nsays in his famous myth, but the true philosopher who has once risen out\nof the cave must go back into it again and teach the prisoners there\nwhat the universe really is (_Republic_, Book vi, _fin._; vii, _init._).\nThe very passage that I quoted about man's real nature comes at the end\nof the _Republic_. Now the _Republic_ is a Utopia, and no one writes a\nUtopia unless he believes that the effort to reach it is of prime\nimportance to man and helps him to advance.\n\nOnly, for Plato, the advance is not marked in the successive stages of\nhistory, as the modern faith in progress asserts. The life on earth, for\nPlato, is like a school through which men pass and in which they may\nlearn and grow, but the school itself does not go on growing. It is not\nthat he does not envisage change in history, but what he seems to hope\nfor at the best is nothing more hopeful than recurring cycles of better\nand worse. He tells a fable, in his dialogue 'The Statesman', of how at\none time the world is set spinning in the right direction by God and\nthen all goes well, and again how God ceases to control it, and then it\ngradually forgets the divine teaching and slips from good to bad and\nfrom bad to worse, until at last God takes pity on it once more to save\nit from utter destruction (_Polit._ 269 ff.). No doubt in this idea of\ncycles Plato is influenced by the popular thought of his time: this\nfeeling that there had been a lost Golden Age in the past was deeply\nrooted in Greek mythology. We get it long before Plato, in Hesiod, and\nthere are similar touches in Homer, and once men believe that they have\nsunk from glory, there is always the dread that if ever they recover it\nthey will lose it again. And with Plato this dread is reinforced by his\nsense of something incurable in the world, the thwarting influence of\nspatial and temporal matter (_Theaet._ 176 A).\n\nIt is strange that, though he is always thinking of the individual soul\nas learning through experience in its passage from one life to another,\nPlato does not seem to have the idea of mankind learning by the lessons\nof history, of knowledge being handed down from one age to another, and\ngrowing in the process. That is one of the most inspiring ideas in\nmodern thought: a German writer has spoken of history as the long\nOdyssey of the human spirit, the common mind of Man coming at last\nthrough its wanderings to find out what it really wants, and where its\ntrue home lies.\n\nAnd here, significantly enough, we find we are brought back in our\nmodern way to something very like Plato's own conception of an eternal\nunchanging Reality. There are endless problems in the whole conception\nof the Eternal that I am quite unable even to attempt; but this much at\nleast seems clear to me, that the whole idea of mankind learning by the\nexperience of History, implies something of permanent value running\nthrough that experience. The very thought of continued progress implies\nthat man can look back at the successive stages of the Past and say of\neach: In that lay values which I, to-day and always, can recognize as\ngood, although I believe we have more good now. Seeley speaks in a noble\npassage of how religion might conceive a progressive revelation which\nwas, in a sense, the same through all its stages, and yet was a growing\nthing:--'each new revelation asserts its own superiority to those which\nwent before,' but the superiority is 'not of one thing to another\nthing--but of the developed thing to the undeveloped'. 'It is thus', he\nwrites, 'that the ages should behave to one another.' This is the true\n'understanding and concert with time'.[10] And though Plato does not\nlive in the thought of historic progress, yet such a conception of\nprogress which recognizes at different stages different expressions,\nmore or less adequate, of one eternal value, such a way of thinking is\nentirely Platonic. When we look back at history in this mood we think\nnot only of grasping the right principles for the Future, but of\nrejoicing in the definite achievements of the Past, and we feel this\nmost poignantly, I think, of the achievements won by the spirit of\nBeauty. Great works of Art we are accustomed actually to call immortal,\nand we mean by this not merely that we think they will always be famous,\nbut that there is something in them that makes it impossible for them\never to be superseded. In themselves they are inexhaustible: if they\ncease to interest us, it is our fault and not theirs. We may want more,\nwe do want more, where they came from, but we never want to lose them,\nany more than we could bear to lose our old friends, though we may\ndesire to make new ones. Of all the divine Ideas, said Plato, Beauty is\nthe one that shows itself most plainly in the world of sense and speaks\nto us most plainly of the eternal realities.\n\nThis, however, is perhaps trenching on the subject of Progress in Art,\nand I should like to return to the general Greek conception of the\ntendency in all nature towards the Good, the perfect realization of\nperfect types.\n\nPlato does not expressly insist that this tendency is of the nature of\neffort, though I think that is involved in his view. But Aristotle does.\nFollowing Plato in essentials, he makes bold to say outright that every\nnatural thing in its own way longs for the divine and desires to share\nin the divine life, so far as it can.[11] Every such thing in this world\nof space and time has to cope with difficulties and is imperfect, but\neverything struggles towards the good. That good is in the life of God,\na thinking life, an activity of thought, existing in some sense beyond\nthis imperfect world; and this life is so supremely desirable that it\nmakes everything else struggle to reach it. It moves the whole world,\nAristotle says, in a famous passage, because it is loved. It is the\nworld's desire.[12]\n\nNow this idea of effort--or of something analogous to\neffort--constituting the inner nature of every natural thing reappears,\nwith pregnant consequences, in modern thought, though seldom with these\nvast theological consequences. The idea of an upward effort through\nnature lies at the base of our most hopeful theories of evolution, and\nforms the true support of our modern faith in progress. Broadly\nspeaking, our evolutionists are now divided into two schools: the\nadherents of the one believe that variations are purely accidental, and\nmay occur in any direction whatsoever, the useful ones being preserved\nonly because they happen to be useful for the life of the species, while\nthe adherents of the other--the school that I would call the school of\nhope--believe that accident, even with natural selection to aid it, is\nutterly inadequate to account for the ordered beauty and harmony that we\ndo see in natural things. They admit, as Plato and Aristotle admit,\nimperfection and difficulty in the world, but they insist on a movement\ntowards value: in short, they conceive an order emerging that is brought\nabout, to quote a modern writer, both in nature and in society, by 'a\nprinciple of movement and progress conflicting with a principle of\ninertia.'[13]\n\nAristotle, in words that are strikingly modern, raises the very question\nat issue here.[14] He asks whether we can suppose that nature does not\naim at the good at all, but that variations arise by chance and are\npreserved just because they are useful, and he scouts the idea that\nchance could do more, as Zeller says, than 'bring about isolated and\nabnormal results'. He chooses instead the conception of purpose and\neffort, and this in spite of the difficulties in conceiving a purpose\nand an effort that are not definitely conscious. The sort of thing that\nis in Aristotle's mind when he speaks of nature aiming at the good,\ncomes out in a passage by Edward Carpenter in his little book _The Art\nof Creation_. Carpenter plunges boldly and compares the principle that\nmakes a tree grow and propagate its kind with the impulse that makes a\nman express himself. Man, he says,\n\n     has a Will and Purpose, a Character, which, do what you\n     will, tends to push outwards towards expression. You put\n     George Fox in prison, you flog and persecute him, but the\n     moment he has a chance he goes and preaches just the same as\n     before.... But take a Tree and you notice exactly the same\n     thing. A dominant Idea informs the life of the Tree;\n     persisting, it forms the tree. You may snip the leaves as\n     much as you like to a certain pattern, but they will only\n     grow in their own shape. Finally, you may cut the tree down\n     root and branch and burn it, but, if there is left a single\n     seed, within that seed ... lurks the formative ideal, which\n     under proper conditions will again spring into life and\n     expression.[15]\n\nAristotle would have endorsed almost every word of this. In his pithy\nway, speaking of the distinction between natural and artificial objects,\nhe says himself that if you planted a wooden bed and the wood could\nstill grow, it would grow up, not a bed, but a tree.[16]\n\nHe would not have gone so far as to talk about the _Will_ of a tree, but\nhe would have admitted that what made the tree grow was the same sort of\nthing as Will. And in one respect he goes farther than Edward Carpenter\ndoes. For he considers that not only growth but even the movement of\nnatural things through space is somehow an expression of a tendency\ntowards the good and the divine, a tendency which, when consciousness\nsupervenes, we can call effort, an activity, even though, at its best,\nonly an imperfect activity. He looks up at the splendour of the circling\nstars and asks if it is possible that so glorious an order can be\nanything but a manifestation of something akin to the divine. Here\nindeed he is speaking of movements made by existences he reckoned among\nthe highest in the world, for he thought the stars were living beings\nhigher than man. But he recognized a rudimentary form of such activity\neven in what we now call inanimate matter. Here we come to a leading\nconception of Aristotle's, and one most important for our purpose: the\nconception of a hierarchy of natural existences, all of them with some\nvalue, less or more. When Aristotle is truest to himself, he will tell\nus not to be afraid of studying the meanest forms of natural existence,\nbecause in everything there is something marvellous and divine. He\nquotes with much satisfaction the story of Heracleitus, who welcomed\nhis friends into the bakehouse with the saying that 'there were gods in\nthe bakehouse too'.[17]\n\nThus, at the lowest end of the scale, we have what we call inanimate\nmatter, which Aristotle thinks of much as we do, namely, as something\noccupying space, the different parts of it being endowed with different\npowers of movement, and with different properties, such as warmth or\ncoldness, wetness or dryness. A natural thing, he says, is a thing that\nhas a principle of activity in itself, something that makes it act in a\ndefinite way, whenever it is not interfered with by anything else.[18]\nAristotle speaks, for example, of fire having a natural tendency to\nmount up, much as we might speak of solids having a natural tendency to\ngravitate towards one another. Go back as far as we like, and, Aristotle\nthinks, we still find certain primitive differences which constitute\nwhat we call the primitive elements. This, I imagine, is much the point\nof view of modern science.\n\nAnd these primitive elements in Aristotle's view influence each other,\nunite with each other, or change into each other. As a rule, however,\nthey exhibit no new powers. But given a happy concurrence of qualities,\nsay a certain union of heat and cold, and a new power does become\nmanifest: the power of life. Thus, in a sense, Aristotle does envisage\nthe spontaneous generation of life; and he knows, roughly, what he means\nby life. The living thing can go through far more changes than the\nnon-living, while yet remaining recognizably the same thing. For\nexample, it shows in itself a greater advance to richness and also a\ndecline, it uses other things to foster this advance, and it sends out\nfresh things, like itself, but independent of itself: in short, it\ngrows, decays, feeds itself, and propagates its kind.[19]\n\nAs I understand Aristotle, for him there is not an entire and absolute\ndifference between ordinary matter and living things, and yet there is a\nreal difference, and one not to be explained away, for there is a new\nmanifestation of active energy. And if we consider life of more value\nthan mere motion, then we are right in saying there is a higher energy.\nThe quality of growth is a quality which could not be deduced from the\nquality of warmth or from the quality of mere movement in space, and yet\nall three qualities are alike in this, that they are all manifestations\nof an energy which is somehow inherent in things, and not merely imposed\non them from without. The manifestations of life are started, in a\nsense, by the different movements, 'mechanical', if you like to call\nthem so, in the rudimentary forms of matter, the elements meeting each\nother in space. The process of life could not have begun without such\nmovements. But neither could it have begun if the elements, just as they\nappear, had been all there was. There had to be latent, that is, the\npossibility of a different and higher mode of action. This higher mode\nof action Aristotle calls a higher Form, a higher Idea. And I think it\nis true to him to say that he believes the lower Forms, the lower Ideas,\ndo their most perfect work when they bring about the conditions under\nwhich the higher ones can operate. For when he speaks of that\nconcurrence of elements that conditions life he speaks of the 'warmth\nand cold' as 'having mastered the matter'.[20]\n\nIn any case he conceives a whole series of higher and lower Forms, the\nhigher coming nearer and nearer to that full and glorious activity which\nhe conceives to be the life of God. Above the power of the thing to grow\nas a plant grows appears the power of sensation as it is present in\nanimals, and above that again the power, first seen in man, of living\nthe life of thought, perceiving what is beautiful and true in the\n'forms', the characters, of all the things around him, and with this\nthat further power of setting consciously before himself what he really\nwants to be and to do, the power of moral action strictly so-called.\n\nThroughout this series, in every higher stage the lower is present as a\nkind of basis. In the man who thinks there is active not only the power\nof thought, but also the power of sensation, the faculty of growth, and\nthe physical properties of the body. It would seem that Aristotle has\nonly to take one step, and he would be a thoroughgoing evolutionist. He\nhas only to say that the different stages are successive in time, the\nlower regularly preceding the higher. But this step he hesitates to\ntake.\n\nHe often comes very near it. He speaks of nature passing gradually from\ninanimate things through living things to living animals. He speaks of\nwhat is first in itself, first inherently, 'prior' in the logical sense\nbecause it is the goal and the completion of the thing, as appearing\nlater in time. For instance, he believes that man can only find his real\nhappiness and develop his real nature in the State, but the State\nappears later in time than the primitive associations of the household\nand the family.[21] What came earlier in history were barbarous\ncommunities such as those of the Cyclopes, where 'each man laid down the\nlaw for his wife and children and obeyed no other law'.\n\nBut Aristotle does not go on from this belief to the belief in a\nuniversal upward process throughout all history. The developed State, it\nis true, may always have been preceded by a lower form, but that lower\nform may itself have been preceded by a higher.\n\nAristotle, in short, is haunted, like Plato, by the idea of cycles,\nalternations, decline and progress, progress and decline. He feels this\nboth in the life of States and in the whole life of the world. He speaks\nof the same discoveries being made over and over again, an infinite\nnumber of times, in the history of civilization. And his words recall\nthe sad passage in Plato's _Laws_ (676) referring to the numberless\nnations and states, ten thousand times ten thousand, that had risen and\nfallen all over the world, passing from worse to better and from better\nto worse. Similarly Aristotle will speak of degraded animal forms, and\nsometimes write as though the animal world could sink back into the\nvegetable altogether.\n\nAdmitting, however, something like progress within the different cycles,\nwe must ask a little more about the kind of progress which Aristotle\nwould have desired. (I take Aristotle again as a typical Greek.) Man at\nhis best, he clearly holds, in trying to realize his true nature should\naim at a happiness which involves a harmony of all his faculties, a\nharmony inspired and led by the highest faculty of all, the Reason which\nrejoices in the contemplation of what is at once true and good and\nbeautiful.\n\nNow in this aim, we must ask, does a man need other men and other\ncreatures, and in what sense does he need them? Here, I think, we come\non two inconsistent tendencies in Aristotle's thought, connected with\ntwo different ways of regarding the hierarchy of existences. We say that\none existence is higher than another. Does this mean that what we call\nthe lower are only so many blundering attempts to reach the higher? That\nevery creature, for example, which is not a thinking man is, on the\nwhole, a mistake? Aristotle often does speak like that. Woman, he says\nin one passage, is only a mutilated male.[22] The principle which ought\nto develop into the active power of thought could not, he explains, in\nwomen master the recalcitrant element which is always thwarting\nperfection, and thus woman is man _manque_. On these lines of thought it\nis easy to slip into looking on all other forms of existence as merely\nvaluable in so far as they serve the direct purposes of men, and indeed\nonly of a few men, those namely who are able to think as philosophers.\nThis is the kind of view according to which, as the satirist suggests,\ncork-trees only grow in order to make corks for champagne-bottles, and\nthe inferior races of mankind only exist to furnish slaves for the\nhigher. And Aristotle does, on occasion, lend himself to such a view: he\njustifies a slavery in which, as he says, some men are to be treated\nmerely as living tools. And yet on his own principles every man ought to\naim at realizing his own end, and not merely the ends of others.\n\nBut there is a widely different view, also present in Aristotle, and\ntruer to the essence of his thought. It is a view instinct with that\nreverence for all existence of which I spoke at first, and it holds that\nall the different natural types, high or low, could all be united in one\nharmony, like an ordered army, as Aristotle himself would say, in which\nthe divine spirit was present even as the spirit of a general is present\nin his men. The greatest thing in man, Aristotle thinks, is the godlike\npower of apprehending the different characters of all the things around\nhim, and this of itself suggests the belief that all these characters\nhave a value of their own, unique and indispensable, each aiming at a\ndistinct aspect of the Divine, each, if it fulfilled its inner nature,\nfinding, as Plato might have said, the place where it was best for it to\nbe. Again, it is clear from Aristotle's whole treatment of the State,\nthat when he wrote his famous phrase, 'Man is by nature a political\nanimal', he meant that man, as we should say, is essentially social. It\nis part of man's goal to live with others; it is not merely a means to\nthe goal. His highest happiness lies in the contemplation of the good,\nand the good, Aristotle says, can be contemplated far better in others\nthan in ourselves. This is a profound saying, and from this thought\nsprings the deep significance of friendship in Aristotle's system. The\ncrown of the civic life he takes to be the community of friends who\nrecognize the good in each other, and enjoy each other through this. The\nwider this community, then, we must surely say, the better.\n\nFor Aristotle then, man's perfection ought to mean the perfection of\nevery individual, and progress, so far as he conceives it, involve\nprogress towards this end. This should lead on to belief in the supreme\nimportance of the individual soul, and to Kant's great principle that we\nshould always treat each man as an end in himself.\n\nThus, if we concentrate on the hopeful elements in Plato and Aristotle,\nwe may fairly say, I think, that we can see outlined in their\nphilosophies something like the following belief: every natural thing in\nthis world, and every natural creature, so far as it is good,--and all\nare more or less good,--tends to express some distinct aspect of a\nperfect harmony: we human beings are the first on earth to be definitely\nconscious of such a tendency, the first to be able definitely to direct\nit to its true goal, and our business in life is therefore threefold: to\nmake actual our own function in this harmony, to help other creatures to\nactualize theirs, and to contemplate every such manifestation, in men or\nin things, with reverence and rejoicing.\n\nThe harmony, if complete, would be a manifestation of a divine reality,\nand thus the love of God, the love of our neighbour, the love of nature,\nself-development, political life, scientific study, poetic\ncontemplation, and philosophic speculation, would all unite in one\ncomprehensive and glorious task.\n\nThis, surely, is hopeful enough. But the Greek hope faltered and sank.\nCould this harmony ever be realized? Would not the thwarting element in\nthe world always drag it down again and again, and drag some men down\nalways, so that after all progress was impossible, and for some men\nshould not even be attempted? As a matter of fact, Plato and Aristotle\ndo limit their exhortations to a narrow circle of cultured Greeks, and\neven with them they doubt of success.\n\nNow this despondency came partly, I think, through the very\nsensitiveness of the Hellenic nature. The spectacle of the ever-baffled\nstruggle in Nature and Man they felt at times almost intolerable.\nAristotle saw that this perpetual failure in the heart of glorious good\nmade the very essence of tragedy. The tragic hero is the man of innate\nnobleness who yet has some one defect that lays him open to ruin. Man is\nset in a world full of difficulties, a world much of which is dark and\nstrange to him: his action and those of others have results which he did\nnot, and in his ignorance could not, foresee; he is not strong enough\nfor his great task.\n\nAll the Greek poets have this deep sadness. Homer has it, in and through\nhis intense feeling for the beauty and energy of life. There has never\nbeen such war-poetry as Homer's, and yet there has never been any which\nfelt more poignantly the senselessness in war. 'And I must come here',\nAchilles says to his noble enemy at the close, 'to torture you and your\nchildren.'\n\nIn the next place, the sadness of the world could not be lightened for\nthe Greeks by the vision that the modern theory of evolution has opened\nup to us of the long advance in the history of life on the planet. Even\ntheir knowledge of history in the strict sense was scanty, and it is\nonly a long view of history that is likely to be comforting. What\nhistory they did know could bring them little comfort. In the first\nplace it showed them a series of great civilizations, rising and\nfalling, and those that had fallen seemed at least as good as those that\nfollowed them. A Greek like Plato knew of the Homeric civilization,\nsimpler indeed, but fresher and purer than his own. And he believed,\nwhat we now know to be the fact, that even before the Homeric there had\nbeen a wonderful island-culture, what we call the Minoan, flourishing\nbefore the Homeric. 'There had been kings before Agamemnon.'\n\nAnd behind Minos and Agamemnon lay the great, and by that time the\nossifying, kingdom of Egypt, compared to which the Greeks were, and felt\nthemselves to be, but children. Plato had seen, finally, the\ndegeneration of the Persian Empire--once so magnificent and mighty.\n\nThis fact of recurrent decay is one of the heaviest that the human\nspirit can shoulder. Any theory of progress must come to terms with it,\nfor Progress through history is certainly not an uninterrupted ascent; a\nspiral is the better image. And the weight must lie most heavily on a\ngeneration which feels its own self to be in peril of decay. Now Plato\nand Aristotle lived at such a period. Greece had gone through the bitter\nexperiences of the Peloponnesian War, and the shadow of it lay on them,\nas on its historian Thucydides. In that fratricidal conflict Greece tore\nherself to pieces. It was a struggle between the two leaders of the then\ncivilized world, and it has a terrible likeness to the struggle that is\ngoing on now. From its devastating influence Greece never recovered.\nHistorians still dispute, and always will, as to the exact proportion of\npraise and blame between the two. But Thucydides himself, a true-hearted\nAthenian, brings out the tyrannical side in the Athenian temper. Not\nindeed towards her own people, but towards all who were not of her own\nimmediate stock. Because Athens thought herself the fairest city in the\nworld, as indeed she was, because she thought herself menaced by Sparta,\nand menaced she was, she allowed herself to tyrannize and lightly took\nup the burden of war between brethren. There are few passages in history\nmore stately than the Funeral Oration of Pericles in which he calls\nAthens the School of Hellas, but even in it there is a certain deadly\ncoldness of heart. And few things are more terrible than the coarsening\nof temper which Thucydides depicts as the war goes on and Pericles is\nsucceeded by his caricature Cleon, the man who means to prosecute the\nwar vigorously, and by vigour means ruthlessness. Nor was there ever a\nsterner indictment of aggression than that given in the dialogue between\nthe spokesmen of Melos, the little island that desired to stand out of\nthe conflict, and the Athenian representatives who were determined to\nforce her into their policy. And after that dialogue comes, in\nThucydides' great drama, the fall of Athens.\n\nThe city recovered in some measure from her fall, but only to face\nanother disaster. If she sinned in the Peloponnesian War through the\nspirit of aggression, she sinned in the struggle with Macedon through\nslackness and cowardice. In the one struggle she lost comradeship; in\nthe other she lost liberty. And with the loss of the two she lost\nbuoyancy. In a deeper sense than Pericles used the phrase, 'the\nspringtime went out of her year'. Ultimately, perhaps, we cannot explain\nwhy this should be so. Other nations have had as disheartening\nexperiences and yet risen above them. Some of the most inspired\nprophecies in the Hebrew writings came after the tiny state of Judaea\nhad been torn in pieces by the insensate conflict between North and\nSouth, and after the whole people had been swept into captivity. But\nwhatever the ultimate reason, Athens did not recover. We must not end,\nhowever, on a note of despair. Far from it. The work of Aristotle and\nPlato and of the Greeks generally, was cramped for lack of sympathy and\nlack of hope, and, strangely enough, it was after they had passed and\ntheir glory with them that sympathy grew in the world, and after\nsympathy grew, hope returned.\n\nFor it is exactly in those failing years, when the Hellenic gave way to\nthe Hellenistic, that men first grasped, and grasped so firmly that it\ncould hardly be lost again, one of the fundamental principles on which\nthe whole fabric of our later civilization has rested, or ought to rest,\nthe great principle of personal equality, the claim of every individual\nto transcendent value, irrespective of race and creed and endowment. The\nconquering rule of Alexander, whatever else it did, broke down the\nbarriers of the little city-states and made men of different races feel\nthemselves members of mankind. There rose among the Stoics the\nconviction that all men do belong together and are all made for each\nother. And with the advent of Christianity came the belief that every\nman, however mean and unworthy, can receive a power that will make him\nall he ought to be. The highest is within his reach. There is no reason\nnow why the glorious life that Hellenism conceived for a few should not\nlie open to all men.\n\nFinally, we might say, and truly, that the vast political organization\nbuilt up by Rome gave us Europeans, once and for all, the vision of a\nunited Europe.\n\nThat dream has never left it. Even to-day, here and now, in spite of our\ndisasters, our blunders, and our crimes, let us not forget it, that\ndream which is 'not all a dream', the dream of once again constructing a\nsystem in which we might, all of us, all nations and all men and women,\nmake progress together in the common task.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nG. L. Dickinson, _The Greek View of Life_.\n\nZeller, _Aristotle and the Earlier Peripatetics_.\n\nEdited by Evelyn Abbott, _Hellenica_.\n\nBury, _History of Greece_.\n\nDavies and Vaughan, _Plato's Republic_.\n\nWelldon, _Aristotle's Politics_.\n\nPeters, _Aristotle's Ethics_.\n\nBridges, _The Spirit of Man_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[6] G. H. Perris, _History of War and Peace_, p. 54.\n\n[7] 'The Unity of Western Civilization,' c. III.\n\n[8] _The Spirit of Man_, 40; _Phaedo_, 96.\n\n[9] _The Spirit of Man_, 16; _Phaedo_, 66.\n\n[10] _Natural Religion_, part ii, c. 5.\n\n[11] _De An._ ii. 4, 415, p. 35.\n\n[12] _The Spirit of Man_, 39; Aristotle, _Met._ 10.\n\n[13] T. W. Rolleston, _Parallel Paths_.\n\n[14] _Phys._ ii. 8, 198 16-34.\n\n[15] Pp. 28-9.\n\n[16] _Phys._ ii, c. I.\n\n[17] _De Part. An._, Bk. i, c. 5.\n\n[18] _Phys._ ii. I, _init._\n\n[19] _De Anima_, _init._\n\n[20] _Meteor_, iv. 1. 378. See Zeller's _Aristotle_, vol. i, _fin._\n\n[21] _Polit._ 1253 a; _Eth._ 1162 a.\n\n[22] _Gen. An._ ii. 3. 737.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPROGRESS IN THE MIDDLE AGES\n\nA. J. CARLYLE\n\n\nThere still survives, not indeed among students of history, but among\nsome literary persons, the notion that the civilization of the Middle\nAges was fixed and unprogressive; that the conditions of these centuries\nwere wholly different from those of the ancient world and of modern\ntime; that there was little continuity with the ancient world, and\nlittle connexion with the characteristic aspects of progress in the\nmodern world.\n\nThe truth is very different. It may be doubted whether at any other\ntime, except perhaps in those two marvellous centuries of the flower of\nGreek civilization, there has been a more rapid development of the most\nimportant elements of civilization than in the period from the end of\nthe tenth to the end of the thirteenth centuries. While it is true that\nmuch was lost in the ruin of the ancient world, much also survived, and\nthere was a real continuity of civilization; indeed some of the greatest\nconceptions of the later centuries of the ancient world are exactly\nthose upon which mediaeval civilization was built. And again, it was in\nthe Middle Ages that the foundations were laid upon which the most\ncharacteristic institutions of the modern world have grown.\n\nIndeed this notion that the civilization of the Middle Ages was fixed\nand unprogressive is a mere literary superstition, and its origin is to\nbe found in the ignorance and perversity of the men of the Renaissance;\nand hardly less, it must be added, in the foolishness of many of the\nconceptions of the Romantic revival.\n\nThere are, indeed, excuses for these mistakes and confusions. The\nRenaissance represents, among other things, a great and necessary\nmovement of revolt against a religious and intellectual civilization\nwhich had once been living and moving, but had tended from the latter\nyears of the thirteenth century to grow stiff and rigid. It was probably\na real misfortune that the great thinkers and scholars of the thirteenth\ncentury, like Alexander of Hales and Thomas Aquinas, had embarked upon\nwhat was a premature attempt at the systematization of all knowledge;\nthey made the same mistake as the Encyclopaedists of the eighteenth\ncentury or Herbert Spencer in the nineteenth, but with more disastrous\nresults. For this work unhappily encouraged the mediaeval Church in its\nmost fatal mistake, its tendency to suspect and oppose the apprehensions\nof new aspects of truth.\n\nThe men of the Renaissance had to break the forms under which the\nschoolmen had thought to express all truth, they had to carry forward\nthe great enterprise and adventure of the discovery of truth, and they\nhad to do this in the teeth of a violent resistance on the part of those\nwho thought themselves the representatives of the mediaeval\ncivilization. There are, therefore, excuses for them in their contempt\nfor the intellectual life of the past; but there is no real excuse for\nthem in their contempt for mediaeval art and literature. When they\nturned their back upon the immediate past, and endeavoured pedantically\nto reproduce the ancient world, they were guilty of an outrageous\nignorance and stupidity, a stupidity which is expressed in that unhappy\nphrase of Pope, the 'Gothic night'. Happily neither the great artists of\nthe fourteenth and fifteenth centuries nor the great poets of England\nand Spain were much affected by the classical pedantry of which\nunhappily Petrarch was the begetter.\n\nIt is this foolishness of the Renaissance which is the best excuse for\nthe foolishness of the Romantic revival; the new classical movement had\nin such a degree interrupted the continuity of European art that it was\nvery difficult for men in the eighteenth century to recover the past,\nand we must make allowance for the often ludicrous terms and forms of\nthe new mediaevalism. Indeed it is a strange and often absurd art--the\nhalf-serious, half-parodying imitations of Thomson and Walpole and\nWieland, this ludicrous caricature Gothic of Strawberry Hill and All\nSouls, the notion of Gothic architecture as a mass of crockets,\nbattlements, crypts, and dungeons--and all in ruins. Indeed, the\nRomantic conception of the Middle Ages was often as absurd as that of\nthe Renaissance, and if we are to get at the truth, if we are to make\nany serious attempt to understand the Middle Ages, we must clear our\nminds of two superstitions; the one, which we derive from the\nRenaissance, that mediaeval civilization was sterile, ignorant, and\ncontent to be ignorant; the other, which survives from the Romantic\nmovement, that it was essentially religious, chivalrous and adventurous,\nthat men spent their time in saying their prayers, making reverent love\nto their ladies, or carving the heads of the infidel.\n\nWhat I should desire to do is to persuade you that the more you study\nthe Middle Ages the more you will see that these men and women were\nreally very much like ourselves, ignorant, no doubt, of much which is to\nus really or superficially important, gifted on the other hand with some\nqualities which for the time we seem to have in a large measure lost,\nbut substantially very like ourselves, neither very much better nor very\nmuch worse. Let me illustrate this by considering for a moment the\nfigure which to us is typical of the Middle Ages. What was the\nmediaeval knight? We think of him as a courteous, chivalrous person of a\nromantic and adventurous temper, whose business it was to fight for his\nlady or in the service of religion against the infidel. In reality he\nwas usually a small landowner, who held his land on condition of\nmilitary service to some lord; the title 'knight' means in its Latin\nform (_miles_), simply a soldier, in its Germanic form a servant, and\ndistinguishes him from the older type of landowner who held his land in\nabsolute ownership and free of all service except of a national kind. In\nvirtue of his holding a certain amount of land he had to present himself\nfor military service on those occasions and for those periods for which\nhe could be legally summoned. But even this description implies a wholly\nwrong emphasis, for he was not primarily a soldier, but a small\nlandowner and cultivator, very much what we should call a squireen. He\nwas normally much more concerned about his crops, his cattle and pigs,\nthan about his lord's affairs and his lord's quarrels. He was ignorant,\noften rather brutal, and turbulent, very ready for a quarrel with his\nneighbour, but with no taste for national wars, and the prolonged\nabsence from his home which they might involve, unless indeed there was\na reasonable prospect of plunder. Indeed, he was a very matter-of-fact\nperson, with very little sense of romance, and little taste for\nadventure unless there was something to be got out of it. We must\ndismiss from our minds the pretty superstitions of romance from Chaucer\nand Spenser to the time of the Romantic revival, and we must understand\nthat the people of the Middle Ages were very much like ourselves; the\ntimes were rougher, more disorderly, there was much less security, but\non the whole the character of human life was not very different.\n\nWhat was it, then, that happened with the end of the ancient world?\nWell, the civilization of the Roman Empire was overthrown by our\nbarbarous ancestors, the old order, and tranquillity, and comfort\ndisappeared, and the world fell back into discomfort and turbulence, and\ndisorder; the roads fell into disrepair and were not mended, the drains\nwere neglected, and the towns dwindled and shrank. We must remember,\nhowever, that this great civilization was dying out, was failing by some\ninternal weakness, and that the barbarians only hastened the process.\n\nMuch of the achievement of Greece and Rome was lost, much both material\nand intellectual, but not all, and the new civilization which began\nrapidly to grow up on the ruins of the old was in many respects\ncontinuous with it. In order, however, that we may understand this we\nmust remember that the form of civilization with which the Middle Ages\nwere continuous was the Graeco-Roman civilization of the later Empire,\nand not the great Hellenic civilization itself. What the Middle Ages\nknew was primarily that which the Christian Fathers like St. Augustine\nand St. Gregory the Great, St. Basil and St. Gregory of Nazianzus\nlearned at their schools and universities. Some of these Fathers were\neducated at the great universities, like Athens, others at comparatively\nhumble provincial institutions; some of them were men of powerful\nintellect, while others were more commonplace. What they learned was the\ngeneral intellectual system of the late Empire, and what they learned\nthey handed on to the Middle Ages; but it was not the great intellectual\nculture of Greece. We have still too strong an inclination to think of\nthe ancient world as one and homogeneous; we have not yet sufficiently\napprehended the great changes both in the form and in the temper of that\nworld. And yet the varieties, the changes, are very diverse, the\noutlook, the artistic methods of the Homeric poetry are very different\nfrom the emotional and intellectual modernity of Euripides. The\nphilosophy of Plato and Aristotle is very different from that of the\nStoics and Neoplatonists. In that picturesque but perhaps not very\nfelicitous phrase which Mr. Murray has borrowed from Mr. Cornford, there\nwas a 'failure of nerve' which separates the earlier from the later\nstages of the moral and intellectual culture of the ancient world.\nHowever this may be, and we shall have more to say about this presently,\nthe civilization of the Middle Ages was made up on the one hand of\nelements drawn from the later Empire, and on the other of\ncharacteristics and principles which seem to have belonged to the\nBarbarian races themselves.\n\nWith the end of the sixth century the ancient world had passed away and\nthe mediaeval world had begun, and we have to consider the nature and\nmovement of the new order, or rather we have to consider some of its\nelements, and their development, especially during the period from the\nend of the tenth century to the end of the thirteenth, during which it\nreached its highest level. We have to pass over the great attempt of the\nninth century, for we can only deal with a small part of a large\nsubject, and we shall only deal with a few aspects of it, and chiefly\nwith the development of the spiritual conception of life which we call\nreligion, with the reconstruction of the political order of society,\nwith the beginning of a new intellectual life and the pursuit of truth,\nand with the development under new forms of the passion for beauty.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have been compelled to warn you against the romantic superstition that\nthe Middle Ages were specifically religious, and yet it is quite true\nthat the first aspect of mediaeval life which compels our attention is\nexactly the development of the sense of the significance of the\nspiritual quality of life. This was the first great task of the men of\nthe Middle Ages, and this was in a real sense their achievement; but not\nas contradicting the characteristic developments of the Hellenic\ncivilization, but rather as completing and fulfilling it. It is indeed a\nsingular superstition that the Hellenic world was lacking in spiritual\ninsight, but I need only refer you to Miss Stawell's lecture, as serving\nto show you how great and how real this was. It really was not a mistake\nwhen an honest but rather stupid man like Justin Martyr, and the more\nacute and penetrating minds of the Alexandrian Fathers like Clement and\nOrigen, thought that they heard the authentic accents of the 'Word' of\nGod in the great philosophers of Greece, and especially in Plato.\n\nThe apprehension of the spiritual element in human experience was not\nwanting in Hellenic civilization, but it needed a further development\nand especially in relation to those new apprehensions of personality and\nindividuality, whose appearance we can trace both in the\npost-Aristotelian philosophy, and in the later Hebrew prophets and\npoets, which Christianity found in the world, and to which in its\nconception of the human in the Divine, and the Divine in the human, it\ngave a new force and breath. It is easy for us to smile at what may well\nbe the over-rhetorical phrases of Seneca when he speaks of the\nself-sufficingness ([Greek: autarkeia]) of the wise man, or when he says\nthat the wise man is, but for his mortality, like God himself; and yet\nthese rhetorical phrases are, after all, the forms of an apprehension\nwhich has changed and is changing the world. And, it must be remembered\nthat to understand the full significance of these phrases, we must bear\nin mind that the men of the Graeco-Roman civilization had put aside once\nand for all the 'natural' distinction between the 'Greek' and the\n'Barbarian', had recognized that men were equal and alike, not different\nand unequal, that all men were possessed of reason, and all were\ncapable of virtue,[23] or, in the Christian terms, all men are the\nchildren of God and capable of communion with Him.\n\nIt is this new apprehension of life for which the Middle Ages found a\nnew form in the great organization of the Church, and it is this which\njustifies our sense of the great and permanent significance of the\ntremendous conflict of the Papacy and the Empire. It is true that at\ntimes some of the representatives of the Church seem to have fallen into\nthe mistake of aiming at a tyranny of the Church over the State, which\nwould have been in the end as disastrous to the Church itself as to the\nState. But the normal principle of the Church was that which was first\nfully stated by Pope Gelasius I in the fifth century, that the two great\nauthorities, the spiritual and the temporal, are each divine, each draws\nits authority ultimately from God himself, each is supreme and\nindependent in its own sphere, while each recognizes the authority of\nthe other within its proper sphere.\n\nIt is, indeed, the freedom of the spiritual life which the mediaeval\nChurch was endeavouring to defend; it was the apprehension that there\nwas some ultimate quality in human nature which stands and must stand\noutside of the direct or coercive control of society, which lies behind\nall the confused clamour of the conflicts of Church and State.\n\nIt is true that in this great and generous effort to secure the freedom\nof the human soul men in some measure lost their way. They demanded and\nin a measure they succeeded in asserting the freedom of the religious\norganization, as against the temporal organization, but in doing this\nthey went perilously near to denying the freedom of the individual\nspiritual experience. They went perilously near to denying it, but they\nnever wholly forgot it. The Church claimed and exercised an immense\nauthority in religion, so immense an authority that it might easily seem\nas though there were no place left for the freedom of the individual\njudgement and conscience. And yet that was not the case. The theory of\nexcommunication that is set out in the canonical literature of the\nMiddle Ages has generally been carelessly studied and imperfectly\nunderstood. It was the greatest and most masterful of the Popes,\nInnocent III, who laid down in memorable phrases which are embodied in\nthe great collection of the Decretals, that if a Christian man or woman\nis convinced in his own mind and conscience that it would be a mortal\nsin to do or to leave undone some action, he must follow his own\nconscience even against the command of the authorities of the Church,\nand must submit patiently to Church censures and even excommunication;\nfor it may well happen that the Church may condemn him whom God\napproves, or approve him whom God condemns.[24] This is no isolated or\nexceptional opinion, but is the doctrine which is constantly laid down\nin the canonical literature.[25] It is, I think, profoundly true to say\nthat when men at last revolted against what seemed to them the\nexaggerated claims of the Church, when they slowly fought their way\ntowards toleration and religious freedom, they were only asserting and\ncarrying out its one most vital principle, the principle of the\nindependence or autonomy of the spiritual life; the modern world is only\nfulfilling the Middle Ages.\n\nI do not continue to develop this aspect of the progress of western\ncivilization, not because it is unimportant, for indeed it is perhaps\nthe greatest and most significant aspect of mediaeval life, but because\nit is well known to you, and indeed, it has generally been insisted on\nto such a degree as to obscure the other aspects of progress in the\nMiddle Ages, with which we must deal.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd first I would ask you to observe that it was in these centuries that\nthere were laid over again the foundations of the social and political\norder of civilization, and that there were devised those forms of the\npolitical order upon which the structure of modern society is founded.\n\nWe are familiar with the conception of the divine nature of political\nauthority, the normal and fundamental mediaeval view of the State. If we\ntranslate this into more general terms we shall find that its meaning is\nthat the State has an ethical or moral purpose or function; the State\nexists to secure and to maintain justice. You must not, indeed, confuse\nthis great conception with that foolish perversion of it which was\nsuggested, I think, by some characteristically reckless phrases of St.\nAugustine, stated in set terms by St. Gregory the Great, almost\nforgotten in the Middle Ages, and unhappily revived by the perversity of\nsome Anglicans and Gallicans in the seventeenth century. This foolish\nperversion, which we know as the theory of the 'Divine Right of Kings',\nis indeed the opposite of the great Pauline and mediaeval conception of\nthe divine nature of political authority, for to St. Paul, to the more\nnormal Fathers like St. Ambrose, and to the political theory of the\nMiddle Ages authority is divine just because, and only in so far as, its\naim and purpose is the attainment and maintenance of justice. Indeed, it\nis not only the notion of the 'Divine Right' which was inconsistent with\nthe mediaeval conception of the State, but the notion of an absolute\nsovereignty inherent in the State, that notion with which some eccentric\nor ignorant modern political theorists, ignorant of Rousseau as well as\nof Aristotle, have played, to the great danger of society; we have,\nindeed, got beyond the theory of the sovereignty of the king, but we are\nin some danger of being hag-ridden by the imposture of the sovereignty\nof the majority. Whatever mistakes the people of the Middle Ages may\nhave made, they were, with rare exceptions, clear that there was no\nlegitimate authority which was not just, and which did not make for\njustice.\n\nIt is here that we find the real meaning of the second great political\nprinciple of the Middle Ages, that is the supremacy of law; that it is\nthe law which is the supreme authority in the State, the law which is\nover every person in the State. When John of Salisbury, the secretary of\nThomas a Becket, wishes to distinguish between the prince and the\ntyrant, he insists that the prince is one who rules according to law,\nwhile the tyrant is one who ignores and violates the law.[26] And in a\nmemorable phrase, Bracton, the great English jurist of the latter part\nof the thirteenth century, lays it down dogmatically that the king has\ntwo superiors, God and the law.[27] There is an absurd notion still\ncurrent among more ignorant persons--I have even heard some theologians\nfall into the mistake--that men in the Middle Ages thought of authority\nas something arbitrary and unintelligible, while the truth is that such\na conception was wholly foreign to the temper of that time. It is quite\ntrue that the political life of the Middle Ages seems constantly to\noscillate between anarchy and despotism, but this is not because the men\nof those days did not understand the meaning of law and of freedom, but\nbecause they were only slowly working out the organization through which\nthese can be secured. The supreme authority in the mediaeval state was\nthe law, and it was supreme because it was taken by them to be the\nembodiment of justice.\n\nIt is again out of this principle that there arose another great\nconception which is still often thought to be modern, but which is\nreally mediaeval, the conception that the authority of the ruler rests\nupon and is conditioned by an agreement or contract between him and the\npeople. For this agreement was not an abstract conception, but was based\nupon the mutual oaths of the mediaeval coronation ceremony, the oath of\nthe king to maintain the law, and to administer justice, and the oath of\nthe people to serve and obey the king whom they had recognized or\nelected. The people do, indeed, owe the king honour and loyal service,\nbut only on the condition that he holds inviolable his oath. The ruler\nwho breaks this is a tyrant, and for him there was no place in mediaeval\npolitical theory. This conception was expressed in very plain and even\ncrude terms by Manegold in the eleventh century when he said that the\nking was in the same relation to the community as the man who is hired\nto keep the pigs to his master. If the swineherd fails to do his work\nthe master turns him off and finds another. And if the king or prince\nrefuses to fulfil the conditions on which he holds his power he must be\ndeposed.[28] John of Salisbury in the twelfth century expressed this in\neven stronger terms when he said that if the prince became a tyrant and\nviolated the laws, he had no rights, and should be removed, and if there\nwere no other way to do it, it was lawful for any citizen to slay\nhim.[29]\n\nThese are, no doubt, extreme forms of the mediaeval conception, but the\nprinciple that the authority of the ruler was conditioned by his\nfaithful discharge of his obligations is the normal doctrine of the\nMiddle Ages, is maintained by the compilers of the feudal law-books of\nthe Kingdom of Jerusalem, by the great English jurist Bracton, by St.\nThomas Aquinas, and even by some of the most representative of the Roman\njurists of Bologna, like Azo.\n\nThese were the fundamental principles of the conception of the nature of\npolitical authority whose development we can trace in the Middle Ages,\nand it is out of these conceptions that there grew the system of the\ncontrol of the common affairs of the community by means of the\nrepresentation of the community. For it should be more clearly\nunderstood than it is, that the representative system was the creation\nof the mediaeval political genius, it was these men--to whom even yet\nthe more ignorant would deny the true political instinct--it was these\nmen who devised that method upon which the structure of modern civilized\ngovernment has been built up.\n\nThere is, however, yet another aspect of the development of political\ncivilization which deserves our attention if we are to understand the\nnature of political progress in the Middle Ages. It was in these\ncenturies that there were created the elementary forms of the\nadministrative system of government. And indeed, there is perhaps no\nclearer distinction between a barbarian and a civilized government than\nthis, that while the barbarian government hangs precariously on the life\nof the capable king, the civilized government is carried on continuously\nby an organized civil service. It would be impossible here to discuss\nthe earlier forms of this in the organization of government by Charles\nthe Great, or the very interesting developments of the royal or imperial\nchapel as the nucleus of a civil service in Germany, it is enough here\nto remind ourselves that it is the creation of this organized\nadministration by Henry I and Henry II of England which laid the\nfoundations of our national order. Enough has, I think, been said to\nillustrate the reality and significance of the progressive\nreconstruction of the political order of Western society in the Middle\nAges.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt may, however, be said that this may all be true, but that in all this\nwe have after all only an example of the preoccupation of the Middle\nAges with conduct and religion. I must, therefore, ask you to consider\nthe character and development of the intellectual movement of the Middle\nAges. And here, fortunately, we can find the best of guidance in Dr.\nRashdall's great work on _The Universities of Europe in the Middle\nAges_, and in Dr. R. L. Poole's _Illustrations of Mediaeval Thought_.\nIndeed I could wish that a little more attention was given to the\nhistory and character of the intellectual movement which the\nUniversities represent, and perhaps a little less to reading and\ndiscussing the great scholastic works of the thirteenth century, which\nare almost impossible to understand except in relation to the\nintellectual movements of the twelfth century.\n\nThe new intellectual movement came very suddenly in the last years of\nthe eleventh century; why it should have come then is hard to determine,\nbut it seems reasonable to say that it represents the reawakening of the\ndesire for knowledge which had been in abeyance during the stormy\ncenturies after the fall of the Roman Empire in the West, when men had\nlittle leisure for anything but the constant labour to secure a little\ndecent order and peace. For a few years, indeed, in the ninth century\nthe genius of Charlemagne had almost restored the order of civilization,\nand even in those few years the human mind reasserted itself, and for a\nmoment the learning and culture which had been preserved mainly by the\nIrish and their pupils in Britain, and in Central Europe, flowered and\nbore fruit; but with his death Western Europe plunged again into anarchy\nand misery, and it was only slowly that the genius of the great German\nemperors in Central Europe, and of the Norman settlers in France and\nEngland, rebuilt the commonwealth of European civilization. By the end\nof the eleventh century the work was not indeed done, but was being\ndone, and men had again a little leisure, and the desire for knowledge\nreawakened, but indeed it was no mere gentle desire, but a veritable\npassion which possessed the men of the twelfth century, and it was this\nspontaneous passion which produced the universities.\n\nThe first thing, indeed, which we must observe about the oldest\nuniversities of Europe, especially Bologna, Paris, and Oxford, is just\nthis, that they were not made by any external authority, that they did\nnot derive their being from Church or State, from pope or king, but that\nthey were formed by the enthusiasm and passion which drew men from every\nquarter of Europe to sit at the feet of some man or another who could\ngive them the knowledge which they desired, and, in their turn, to\nbecome teachers. It is quite true that as time went on, and they found\nthat popes and kings were friendly and interested, these groups of\nstudents procured for themselves bulls and charters of recognition and\nprotection, but while later universities may trace their foundation to\nthese respectable patrons, the older universities recognize them indeed\nas benefactors and friends, but not as founders, but rather claim that\nthey grew out of men's desire for knowledge, and that they were\nrecognized by the general consent of the civilized world.\n\nIn the second place it is important, and especially I think in these\ndays, to understand that the men who thus created the universities in\ntheir eagerness to learn, were of every class and condition, rich and\npoor, noble and simple, and they lived as they could, in comfortable\nquarters if they were wealthy men, or in the garrets and cellars of the\ncitizens if they were poor, and for the most part they were poor; but\nneither poverty nor riches could destroy their noble thirst for\nknowledge. The life of the universities was indeed turbulent and\ndisorderly, the students were always at war with the citizens, and, when\nthey were not breaking the heads of the citizens or having their heads\nbroken by them, they were at war with each other, the men of the north\nwith the southerners, the western with the eastern; for the universities\nwere not local or national institutions, but were made up of a\ncosmopolitan crowd of men of every nation in Europe, intelligible to\neach other, as unhappily we are not, by the universal knowledge and use\nof that mediaeval Latin, which might distress the Ciceronian ears of a\npedant of the Renaissance, but was a good, useful, and adaptable\nlanguage. It was a turbulent, disorderly, brutal, profligate, and\ndrunken world, for the students were as hard drinkers as the citizens,\nbut it was animated, it was made alive by a true passion for knowledge,\nby an unwearied and never satisfied intellectual curiosity.\n\nBut it will be asked, what did they learn? Well, the only answer that\none can give is that they learned whatever there was to learn. Our\nliterary friends have often still the impression that in the Middle Ages\nmen spent their whole time in learning theology, and were afraid of\nother forms of knowledge, but this is a singular delusion. As the\nuniversities developed a system, their studies were arranged in the main\nunder four heads, the general studies of what came to be called the\nFaculty of Arts, and the professional studies of the three superior\nFaculties of Law, Medicine, and Theology, but the student was not\nnormally allowed to study in the three superior Faculties until he had\nspent some years in the studies of the Faculty of Arts. It is therefore\nwith this latter that we are primarily occupied. The studies in the\nFaculty of Arts consisted, to use our modern terminology, of literature,\nphilosophy, and science, and the accomplished mediaeval student was\nexpected to know whatever there was to know.\n\nAnd this means--what is strangely often forgotten--that the studies of\nthe mediaeval universities were primarily based upon the literature\nwhich had survived from the ancient world. The Latin poets and orators\nwere their models of literary art, the surviving treatises of the\nancients their text-books in medicine, and the Greek philosophers in\nLatin translations, or in Latin works founded on them, their masters in\nthought. To understand the extent of the influence and the knowledge of\nantiquity of a twelfth-century scholar we need only turn again to John\nof Salisbury, and we shall find him as familiar as any Renaissance\nscholar with Latin literature, and possessing a very considerable\nacquaintance with Greek literature so far as it could be obtained\nthrough the Latin.[30] Indeed, so much is he possessed by the literature\nof antiquity that in works like the _Policraticus_ he can hardly write\ntwo lines together without a quotation from some classical author. This\ntype of literary scholarship has been too much overlooked, and, as I\nsaid before, too exclusive an attention has been given to the\nthirteenth-century schoolmen, who are neither from a literary nor from a\nphilosophical point of view as representative of mediaeval scholars, and\nphilosophically they are often really unmediaeval, for the general\nquality of mediaeval thought is its Platonism: the Aristotelian logic\nwas indeed known to the Middle Ages through Boethius, but the other\nAristotelian works were not known till towards the middle of the\nthirteenth century.\n\nIt would be impossible here, even if I were competent, which I am not,\nto discuss the character of mediaeval thought, but one thing we can\nobserve, one aspect of the intellectual method which may serve to clear\naway some confusion. The great intellectual master of the Middle Ages\nwas Abelard, and the method which he elaborated in his _Sic et Non_ is\nthe method which imposed itself upon all aspects of mediaeval thought.\n\nIt has often been supposed that mediaeval thinkers were in such a sense\nthe creatures of authority that it was impossible for them to exercise\nany independent judgement; how far this may have been true of the\ndecadent scholasticism of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries I do\nnot pretend to say, but such a judgement is a ludicrous caricature of\nthe living and active thought of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,\nand a little consideration of the critical method which Abelard\ndeveloped is sufficient to correct this. This is as follows: first some\ngeneral principle is enunciated for consideration, then all the\nauthorities which may seem to support it are cited, then all the\nauthorities against, and finally the writer delivers his own judgement,\ncriticizing and explaining the opinions which may seem contrary to it.\nThe method has its defects and its limitations, but its characteristic\nis rather that of scepticism than of credulity. And it is on this method\nthat the most important systems of knowledge of the Middle Ages are\nconstructed. It was applied by Gratian in his _Decretum_, the first\ngreat reasoned treatise on Church law, and leads there often to somewhat\nunexpected conclusions, such as that even the legislative authority of\nthe Pope is limited by the consenting custom of the Christian\npeople;[31] and it is this method upon which the great systematic\ntreatises, like the _Suma Theologica_ of St. Thomas Aquinas, were\nconstructed in the thirteenth century. Whatever its defects may be the\nmethod cannot fairly be accused of ignoring difficulties and of a\nsubmission to authority which leaves no place for the critical reason.\n\nI have, I hope, said enough to make it clear that there was a real and\nliving intellectual movement in the Middle Ages, and that even in those\ndays men had resumed the great adventure of the pursuit of truth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe can only for a moment consider the significance and the character of\nmediaeval civilization as it expresses itself in Art, and we must begin\nby noticing a distinction between mediaeval art and mediaeval learning,\nwhich is of the first importance.\n\nThe intellectual movement of the Middle Ages was related to the ancient\nworld, both in virtue of that continuity which was mediated by the\nChristian Fathers, whose education was that of the later Empire, and\nalso in virtue of the intense and eager care with which mediaeval\nscholars studied all that they possessed of ancient literature. The\nrelation of the art of the Middle Ages to the ancient world was quite\ndifferent. There was no continuity between the vernacular poetry of the\nMiddle Ages and that of the ancient world, and while there was a certain\ncontinuity in architecture and in mosaic painting, this amounted to\nlittle more than that the mediaeval artists took the formal structure or\nmethod as the starting-point of their own independent and original work.\nFor the western art of the third and fourth centuries was conventional\nand decadent, and had apparently lost its power of recovery, while the\nart of the centuries which followed was at first rude and imperfect, but\nwas full of new life, determined in its reality and dominated by some\nintimate sense of beauty; it was in no sense imitative of ancient art,\nbut grew and changed under the terms of its own inherent life and power.\n\nMediaeval art, whatever else is to be said about it, was new and\nindependent, and it had all the variety, the audacious experiments,\ncharacteristic of a living art. Nothing is so foolish as to imagine that\nit was uniform and unchanging. Indeed, from the historical point of\nview, the interest of the study of it is curiously contrasted with that\nof the art of the ancient world. There we have only an imperfect and\nfragmentary knowledge of the earlier and ruder form; its history, as we\nknow it, might almost be said to begin with the perfection of the sixth\nand fifth centuries, and what we know after that is the history of a\nlong decadence, not indeed without new developments of importance, as\nfor instance in the architectural structure of Roman building, and\nperhaps in the sculpture of the Early Empire on one side, and in certain\naspects of Latin literature on another. The history of mediaeval art is\nthe history of the long development from what are generally rude forms\nto the highly developed art of the thirteenth century, a development\nfull of incidents and experiments and variety. I have called the early\nform rude, but the phrase is not very happy, as those who know either\nthe early mosaic or the early epic will understand.\n\nThere are still some people, I suppose, who think that mediaeval poetry\nwas all of one kind, cast in one mould, but the truth is that it is of\nevery form and character. It ranges from the bold imaginative realism of\nthe Epic of England, Iceland, Germany, and France, to the exquisite and\ngracious but somewhat artificial allegory of the _Romance of the Rose_.\nIt includes the first great emotional poetry of the modern world--the\nsense of the greatness and tragedy of human passion has perhaps never\nbeen expressed in more moving terms than in the _Tristan and Iseult_ of\nThomas or Beroul--but it also includes the mordant satire of the Renard\npoetry and of Jean de Meun, and the gross realistic humour of the\nFabliaux. The mediaeval drama, in whose complex development we have to\ntrace many strands, probably represents in its oldest forms the coarse\nfarcical buffoonery which may be related to the last fashions of the\nancient world; it received a new impulse from the dramatization of\nscripture history in the twelfth century; but in the thirteenth and\nfourteenth centuries, at least in France, it had already become\nsubstantially a drama of romantic or contemporary life, as we can see in\nJean Bodel's _Jeu de St. Nicholas_, in Adam de la Halle's _Jeu de la\nFeuillee_ and _Robin et Marion_, and in dramas like the _Empress of\nRome_ or the _Otho_. Whatever criticism we might want to make on\nmediaeval literature, at least we cannot say that it was of one type and\nof one mood.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to point out the movement and changes in the\nother forms of art in the Middle Ages; it is only necessary to remind\nourselves that, while we can see that the artists were often hampered by\ninadequate technical knowledge, they were not conventional or merely\nimitative.\n\nIt would be impossible here to consider the history of mosaic painting,\nand its development from the decadent Graeco-Roman work of Santa\nPudenziana in Rome, to the magnificent and living decorations of St.\nMark's in Venice, or of the cathedral of Monreale. It is enough to\nremind ourselves of the immense interval which lies between the rude but\nliving sculpture of the ninth century, and the exquisite grace of\nChester or Wells, and of that development of architecture which\nculminates in the majesty of Durham, and in the beauty of Chartres and\nWestminster Abbey.\n\nIt is doubtful if we have yet at all fully or correctly appreciated the\nnature of mediaeval art; there has been a good deal of foolish talk\nabout 'primitives', which usually goes with a singular ignorance of\nmediaeval civilization; the one thing which is already clear, and which\ngrows clearer, is that the men of those ages had an instinct and a\npassion for beauty which expressed itself in almost every thing that\nthey touched; and, whatever we have gained, we have in a large measure\nlost this.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe mediaeval world was then a living growing world, neither cut off\nfrom the past, nor unrelated to the future. It was a rough and turbulent\nworld, our ancestors were dogged, quarrelsome, and self-assertive, and\nthe first task of civilization was to produce some sort of decent order.\nThe world was a long way off from the firm urbanity of the English\npoliceman. And yet the men of the Middle Ages never fell into that\ndelusion which, as it would seem, has ruined other civilizations; the\ngreat effort for order was not in their mind to be fulfilled by any mere\nmechanical discipline, by any system imposed from outside, the only\nsystem of order which they were prepared to accept was one which should\nexpress the character, the tradition, and finally the will of the whole\ncommunity. The great phrase of Edward I's summons to Parliament, 'Quod\nomnes tangit, ab omnibus approbetur' (That which concerns all, must be\napproved by all), was not a mere tag, as some foolish people have\nthought, but expressed the character and the genius of a living\npolitical civilization.\n\nAnd this rough turbulent world was inspired by a great breath of\nspiritual and intellectual and artistic life and freedom.\n\nIt might well seem as though the Church and religion were merely a new\nbondage, and in part that is true, but it is not the whole truth. With\nall its mistakes the religion of the Middle Ages meant the growing\napprehension of the reality of that 'love which moves the sun and other\nstars', it meant the growth of reverence for that which is beyond and\nabove humanity and which is also within it. For it is the last truth of\nthe Christian faith that we know God only under the terms of human life\nand nature. And with all the cruelty and brutality of the Middle Ages\nthey taught men love as well as obedience.\n\nAgain, it was in these ages, as soon as the confusion of the outer world\nwas a little reduced, that the passion for knowledge awoke again in\nmen's hearts. It is true that some were afraid lest the eager inquiry of\nmen's minds should destroy the foundations of that order which men were\nslowly achieving, but still the passionate pursuit of knowledge has\nrarely been more determined. And once again the world was rough, but\nthese men had an instinct, a passion for beauty which expressed itself\nin almost everything which they touched. They had not, indeed, the\nalmost miraculous sense and mastery of the great artists of Greece, that\ndid not come again till the time of the great Italian artists of the\nfifteenth century. But they were free from pedantry, from formalism,\nthey left the dying art of the ancient world and made their own way.\nTheir sense of colour was almost infallible, as those who have seen the\nmosaics of the older Roman basilicas and of St. Mark's in Venice will\nknow; but, indeed, we have only to look at the illuminated manuscripts\nwhich are to be found in all our libraries. And in that great art in\nwhich, above all perhaps, they expressed themselves, in their great\narchitecture, we see the growth of a constructive genius which is only\novershadowed by the superb beauty of its form.\n\nA rough, disorderly, turbulent, greedy, cruel world, but it knew the\nhuman soul, and it knew the human heart. The ancient world had ended in\na great destruction, but the sadness and emptiness of its last days\ncompel us to feel that it was well that it should end. And the new world\nwas a world of life, of crude force and restless energy, and from it we\nhave received the principles and the forms of a great civilization, and\nthe temper which is never satisfied, for there is no end to life.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nH. W. C. Davis, _Mediaeval Europe_ (Home University Library).\n\nLord Bryce, _History of Roman Empire_.\n\nRashdall, _Universities of Empire in the Middle Ages_.\n\nR. L. Poole, _Illustrations of Mediaeval Thought_.\n\nGierke, _Political Theories of the Middle Ages_.\n\nW. P. Ker, _Epic and Romance_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[23] Cf. Cicero, _De Legibus_, i. 10-12; and Seneca, _De Beneficiis_,\niii. 18.\n\n[24] Cf. Decretals, v. 39. 44, 28.\n\n[25] Cf. Carlyle, _Mediaeval Political Theory_, vol. ii. pp. 244-9.\n\n[26] Cf. John of Salisbury, _Policraticus_, iv. 1.\n\n[27] Cf. Bracton, _De Legibus et Consuetudinibus_, i. 8, 5.\n\n[28] Cf. Manegold, _Ad Gebehardum_, c. XXX.\n\n[29] Cf. John of Salisbury, _Policraticus_, iii. 15, viii. 17, 18, 20.\n\n[30] Cf. C. C. J. Webb's edition of John of Salisbury's _Policraticus_,\nintroduction.\n\n[31] Cf. Gratian, _Decretum_, D. iv. c. 3.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nPROGRESS IN RELIGION\n\nBARON FRIEDRICH VON HUeGEL\n\n\nThe difficulties are deep and delicate which confront any man at all\nwell acquainted with the fuller significance of Religion and of\nProgress, who attempts clearly and shortly to describe or define the\nultimate relations between these two sets of fact and conviction. It is\nplain that Religion is the deeper and richer of the two terms; and that\nwe have here, above all, to attempt to fathom the chief elements and\nforces of Religion as such, and then to see whether Progress is really\ntraceable in Religion at all. And again it is clear that strongly\nreligious souls will, as such, hold that Religion answers to, and is\noccasioned by, the action, within our human life and needs, of great,\nabiding, living non-human Realities; and yet, if such souls are at all\nexperienced and sincere, they will also admit--as possibly the most\nbaffling of facts--that the human individuals, families, races, are\nrelatively rare in whom this sense and need of Religion is strongly,\nsensitively active. Thus the religion of most men will either all but\ncompletely wither or vanish before the invasion of other great facts and\ninterests of human life--Economics or Politics or Ethics, or again,\nScience, Art, Philosophy; or it will, more frequently, become largely\nassimilated, in its conception, valuation, and practice, to the quite\ndistinct, and often subtly different, conceptions, valuations, and\npractices pertaining to such of these other ranges and levels of human\nlife as happen here to be vigorously active. And such assimilations\nare, of course, effected with a particular Philosophy or Ethic, mostly\nsome passing fashion of the day, which does not reach the deepest laws\nand standards even of its own domain, and which, if taken as Religion,\nwill gravely numb and mar the power and character of such religious\nperception as may still remain in this particular soul.\n\nI will, then, first attempt some discriminations in certain fundamental\nquestions concerning the functioning of our minds, feelings, wills. I\nwill next attempt short, vivid descriptions of the chief stages in the\nJewish and Christian Religions, with a view to tracing here what may\nconcern their progress; and will very shortly illustrate the main\nresults attained by the corresponding main peculiarities of\nConfucianism, Buddhism, and Mohammedanism. And I will finally strive to\nelucidate and to estimate, as clearly as possible, the main facts in\npast and present Religion which concern the question of religious\n'Progressiveness'.\n\n\nI\n\nI begin with insisting upon some seven discriminations which, even only\nforty years ago, would have appeared largely preposterous to the then\nfashionable philosophy.\n\nFirst, then, our Knowledge is always wider and deeper than is our\nScience. I know my mother, I know my dog, I know my favourite rose-tree;\nand this, although I am quite ignorant of the anatomical differences\nbetween woman and man; of the psychological limits between dog and human\nbeing; or of the natural or artificial botanical order to which my\nrose-plant belongs. Any kind or degree of consciousness on my part as to\nthese three realities is a knowledge of their content. 'Knowledge is not\nsimply the reduction of phenomena to law and their resolution into\nabstract elements; since thus the unknowable would be found well within\nthe facts of experience itself, in so far as these possess a concrete\ncharacter which refuses translation into abstract relations.' So\nProfessor Aliotta urges with unanswerable truth.[32]\n\nAnd next, this spontaneous awareness of other realities by myself, the\nreality Man, contains always, from the first, both matter and form, and\nsense, reason, feeling, volition, all more or less in action. Sir Henry\nJones insists finely: 'The difference between the primary and elementary\ndata of thought on the one hand, and the highest forms of systematized\nknowledge on the other, is no difference in kind, analogous to a mere\nparticular and a mere universal; but it is a difference of\narticulation.'[33]\n\nThirdly, direct, unchallengeable Experience is always only experience of\na particular moment; only by means of Thought, and trust in Thought, can\nsuch Experience be extended, communicated, utilized. The sceptic, to be\nat all effective, practises this trust as really as does his opponent.\nThought, taken apart from Experience, is indeed artificial and arid; but\nExperience without Thought, is largely an orderless flux. Philosophers\nas different as the Neo-Positivist Mach and the Intuitionist Bergson, do\nindeed attempt to construct systems composed solely of direct Experience\nand pure Intuition; and, at the same time, almost ceaselessly insist\nupon the sheer novelty, the utter unexpectedness of all direct\nExperience, and the entire artificiality of the constructions of\nThought--constructions which alone adulterate our perceptions of reality\nwith the non-realities repetition, uniformity, foreseeableness. Yet the\namazing success of the application of such constructions to actual\nNature stares us all in the face. 'It is, indeed, strange,' if that\ncontention be right, 'that facts behave as if they too had a turn for\nmathematics.' Assuredly 'if thought, with its durable and coherent\nstructure, were not the reflection of some order of stable relations in\nthe nature of things, it would be worthless as an organ of life'.[34]\n\nFourthly, both Space and Time are indeed essential constituents of all\nour perceptions, thoughts, actions, at least in this life. Yet Time is\nperhaps the more real, and assuredly the richer, constituent of the two.\nBut this rich reality applies only to Concrete or Filled Time, Duration,\nin which our experiences, although always more or less successive,\ninterpenetrate each other in various degrees and ways, and are thus more\nor less simultaneous. An absolutely even flow of equal, mutually\nexclusive moments, on the contrary, exists only for our theoretical\nthinking, in Abstract, Empty, or Clock time. Already, in 1886, Professor\nJames Ward wrote: 'In time, conceived as physical, there is no trace of\nintensity; in time, as psychically experienced, duration is primarily an\nintensive magnitude.'[35] And in 1889 Professor Bergson, in his _Essai\nsur les Donnees Immediates de la Conscience_, gave us exquisite\ndescriptions of time as we really experience it, of 'duration strictly\nspeaking', which 'does not possess moments that are identical or\nexterior to each other'.[36] Thus all our real soul life, in proportion\nto its depth, moves in Partial Simultaneity; and it apprehends, requires\nand rests, at its deepest, in an overflowingly rich Pure Simultaneity.\n\nFifthly, Man is Body as well as Soul, and the two are closely\ninterrelated. The sensible perception of objects, however humble, is\nalways necessary for the beginning, and (in the long run) for the\npersistence and growth, of the more spiritual apprehensions of man.\nHence Historical Persons and Happenings, Institutions, affording\nSensible Acts and Contacts, and Social Corporations, each different\naccording to the different ranges and levels of life, can hardly fail to\nbe of importance for man's full awakening--even ethical and spiritual.\nProfessor Ernst Troeltsch, so free from natural prejudice in favour of\nsuch a Sense-and-Spirit position, has become perhaps the most adequate\nexponent of this great fact of life, which is ever in such danger of\nevaporation amidst the intellectual and leading minority of men.\n\nSixthly, the cultivated modern man is still largely arrested and stunted\nby the spell of Descartes, with his insistence upon immediate unity of\noutlook and perfect clearness of idea as the sole, universal tests,\nindeed constituents, of truth. 'I judged that I could take for my\ngeneral rule that the things which we conceive very clearly and very\ndistinctly are all true'--these and these alone.[37] Thus thenceforth\nMathematics and Mechanics have generally been held to be the only full\nand typical sciences, and human knowledge to be co-extensive with such\nsciences alone. Yet Biology and Psychology now rightly claim to be\nsciences, each with its own special methods and tests distinct from\nthose of Mathematics and Mechanics. Indeed, the wisest and most fruitful\nphilosophy is now coming to see that 'Reality generally eludes our\nthought, when thought is reduced to mathematical formulas'.[38] Concrete\nthought, contrariwise, finds full room also for History, Philosophy,\nReligion, for each as furnishing rich subject-matters for Knowledge or\nScience, of a special but true kind.\n\nSeventhly. Already Mathematics and Mechanics absolutely depend, for the\nsuccess of their applications to actual Nature, upon a spontaneous\ncorrespondence between the human reason and the Rationality of Nature.\nThe immensity of this success is an unanswerable proof that this\nrationality is not imposed, but found there, by man. But Thought without\na Thinker is an absurd proposition. Thus faith in Science is faith in\nGod. Perhaps the most impressive declaration of this necessary connexion\nbetween Knowledge and Theism stands at the end of that great work,\nChristoph Sigwart's _Logik_. 'As soon as we raise the question as to the\nreal _right_', the adequate reason, 'of our demands for a\ncorrespondence, within our several sciences, between the principles and\nthe objects of the researches special to each, there emerges the need\nfor the Last and Unconditional Reason. And the actual situation is not\nthat this Reason appears only on the horizon of our finite knowledge,'\nas Kant would have it. 'Not in thus merely extending our knowledge lies\nthe significance of the situation, but in the fact that this\nUnconditional Reason constitutes the presupposition without which no\ndesire for Knowledge (in the proper and strict sense of the word) is\ntruly thinkable.'[39]\n\nAnd lastly, all this and more points to philosophical Agnosticism as an\nartificial system, and one hopelessly inadequate to the depths of human\nexperience. Assuredly Bossuet is right: 'man knows not the whole of\nanything'; and mystery, in this sense, is also of the essence of all\nhigher religion. But what man knows of anything is that thing\nmanifested, not essentially travestied, in that same thing's\nappearances. We men are most assuredly realities forming part of a real\nworld-whole of various realities; those other realities continuously\naffect our own reality; we cannot help thinking certain things about\nthese other realities; and these things, when accepted and pressed home\nby us in action or in science, turn out, by our success in this their\nutilization, to be rightly apprehended by us, as parts of\ninterconnected, objective Nature. Thus our knowledge of Reality is real\nas far as it goes, and philosophical Agnosticism is a _doctrinaire_\nposition. We can say with Herbert Spencer, in spite of his predominant\nAgnosticism, that 'the error' committed by philosophers intent upon\ndemonstrating the limits and conditions of consciousness 'consists in\nassuming that consciousness contains _nothing but_ limits and\nconditions, to the entire neglect of that which is limited and\nconditioned'. In reality 'there is some thing which alike forms the raw\nmaterial of definite thought and remains after the definiteness, which\nthinking gave to it, has been destroyed'.[40]\n\n\nII\n\nLet us next consider five of the most ancient and extensively developed\namongst the still living Religions: the Israelitish-Jewish and the\nChristian religions shall, as by far the best known to us and as the\nmost fully articulated, form the great bulk of this short account; the\nConfucian, Buddhist, and Mohammedan religions will be taken quite\nbriefly, only as contrasts to, or elucidations of, the characteristics\nfound in the Jewish and Christian faiths. All this in view of the\nquestion concerning the relations between Religion and Progress.\n\n1. We can roughly divide the Israelitish-Jewish religion into three long\nperiods; in each the points that specially concern us will greatly vary\nin clearness, importance, and richness of content.\n\nThe first period, from the time of the founder Moses and the Jewish\nexodus out of Egypt to the appearance of the first great prophet Elijah\n(say 1300 B.C. to about 860 B.C.) is indeed but little known to us; yet\nit gives us the great historical figure of the initial lawgiver, the\nrecipient and transmitter of deep ethical and religious experiences and\nconvictions. True, the code of King Hammurabi of Babylon (in 1958 to\n1916 B.C.; or, according to others, in about 1650) anticipates many of\nthe laws of the _Book of the Covenant_ (Exod. xx, 22-xxiii. 33), the\noldest amongst the at all lengthy bodies of laws in the Pentateuch; and,\nagain, this covenant appears to presuppose the Jewish settlement in\nCanaan (say in 1250 B.C.) as an accomplished fact. And, indeed, the Law\nand the books of Moses generally have undoubtedly passed through a long,\ndeep, wide, and elaborate development, of which three chief stages, all\nconsiderably subsequent to the Covenant-Book, have, by now, been\nestablished with substantial certainty and precision. The record of\ndirectly Mosaic sayings and writings is thus certainly very small. Yet\nit is assuredly a gross excess to deny the historical reality of Moses,\nas even distinguished scholars such as Edward Meyer and Bernhard Stade\nhave done. Far wiser here is Wellhausen, who finds, in the very\ngreatness and fixity of orientation of the development in the Law and in\nthe figure of the Lawgiver, a conclusive proof of the rich reality and\ngreatness of the Man of God, Moses. Yet it is Hermann Gunkel, I think,\nwho has reached the best balanced judgement in this matter. With Gunkel\nwe can securely hold that Moses called God Yahweh, and proclaimed Him as\nthe national God of Israel; that Moses invoked Him as 'Yahweh is my\nbanner'--the divine leader of the Israelites in battle (Exod. xvii. 15);\nand that Yahweh is for Moses a God of righteousness--of the right and\nthe law which he, Moses, brought down from Mount Sinai and published at\nits foot. Fierce as may now appear to us the figure of Yahweh, thus\nproclaimed, yet the soul's attitude towards Him is already here, from\nthe first, a religion of the will: an absolute trust in God ('Yahweh\nshall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace,' Exod. xiv. 14), and\na terrible relentlessness in the execution of His commands--as when\nMoses orders the sons of Levi to go to and fro in the camp, slaying all\nwho, as worshippers of the Golden Calf, had not been 'on Yahweh's side'\n(Exod. xxxii. 25-29); and when the chiefs, who had joined in the worship\nof Baal-Peor, are 'hung up unto Yahweh before the sun' (Num. xxv. 1-5).\nLong after Moses the Jews still believed in the real existence of the\ngods of the heathen; and the religion of Moses was presumably, in the\nfirst instance, 'Monolatry' (the adoration of One God among many); but\nalready accompanied by the conviction that Yahweh was mightier than any\nother god--certainly Micah, 'Who is like Yahweh?,' is a very ancient\nIsraelitish name. And if Yahweh is worshipped by Moses on a mountain\n(Sinai) and His law is proclaimed at a spring, if Moses perhaps himself\nreally fashioned the brazen serpent as a sensible symbol of Yahweh,\nYahweh nevertheless remains without visible representation in or on the\nArk; He is never conceived as the sheer equivalent of natural forces;\nand all mythology is absent here--the vehement rejection of the\ncalf-worship shows this strikingly. Michael Angelo, himself a soul of\nfire, understood Moses well, Gunkel thinks.[41]\n\nThe second period, from Elijah's first public appearance (about 860\nB.C.) to the Dedication of the Second Temple (516 B.C.), and on to the\npublic subscription to the Law of Moses, under Ezra (in 444 B.C.), is\nsurpassed, in spiritual richness and importance, only by the classical\ntimes of Christianity itself. Its beginning, its middle, and its end\neach possess distinctive characters.\n\nThe whole opens with Elijah, 'the grandest heroic figure in all the\nBible,' as it still breathes and burns in the First Book of Kings. 'For\nElijah there existed not, in different regions, forces possessed of\nequal rights and equal claims to adoration, but everywhere only one Holy\nPower that revealed Itself, not like Baal, in the life of Nature, but\nlike Yahweh, in the moral demands of the Spirit' (Wellhausen).\n\nAnd then (in about 750 B.C.) appears Amos, the first of the noble\n'storm-birds' who herald the coming national destructions and divine\nsurvivals. 'Yahweh was for these prophets above all the god of justice,\nand God of Israel only in so far as Israel satisfied His demands of\njustice. And yet the special relation of Yahweh to Israel is still\nrecognized as real; the ethical truth, which now stood high above\nIsrael, had, after all, arisen within Israel and could still only be\nfound within it.' The two oldest lengthy narrative documents of the\nPentateuch--the Yahwist (J) and the Ephraemite (E)--appear to have been\ncomposed, the first in Judah in the time of Elijah, the second in Israel\nin the time of Amos. J gives us the immortal stories of Paradise and the\nFall, Cain and Abel, Noah and the Flood; E, Abraham's sacrifice of\nIsaac; and the documents conjointly furnish the more naive and\npicturesque parts of the grand accounts of the Patriarchs generally--the\nfirst great narrative stage of the Pentateuch. God here gives us some of\nHis most exquisite self-revelations through the Israelitish\npeasant-soul. And Isaiah of Jerusalem, successful statesman as well as\ndeep seer, still vividly lives for us in some thirty-six chapters of\nthat great collection the 'Book of Isaiah' (i-xii, xv-xx, xxii-xxxix).\nThere is his majestic vocation in about 740 B.C., described by himself,\nwithout ambiguity, as a precise, objective revelation (chap. vi); and\nthere is the divinely impressive close of his long and great activity,\nwhen he nerves King Hezekiah to refuse the surrender of the Holy City to\nthe all-powerful Sennacherib, King of Assyria: that Yahweh would not\nallow a single arrow to be shot against it, and would turn back the\nAssyrian by the way by which he came--all which actually happens as thus\npredicted (chap. xxxvii).\n\nThe middle of this rich second period is filled by a great\nprophet-priest's figure, and a great prophetical priestly reform.\nJeremiah is called in 628 B.C., and dies obscurely in Egypt in about 585\nB.C.; and the Deuteronomic Law and Book is found in the Temple, and is\nsolemnly proclaimed to, and accepted by, the people, under the\nleadership of the High Priest Hilkiah and King Josiah, 'the Constantine\nof the Jewish Church,' in 628 B.C. Jeremiah and Deuteronomy (D) are\nstrikingly cognate in style, temper, and injunctions; and especially D\ncontrasts remarkably in all this with the documents J and E. We thus\nhave here the second great development of the Mosaic Law. Both Jeremiah\nand Deuteronomy possess a deeply interior, tenderly spiritual, kernel\nand a fiercely polemical husk--they both are full of the contrast\nbetween the one All-Holy God to be worshipped in the one Holy Place,\nJerusalem, and the many impure heathen gods worshipped in so many places\nby the Jewish crowd. Thus in Jeremiah Yahweh declares: 'This shall be my\ncovenant that I will make with the house of Israel: I will write my law\nin their hearts: and they shall all know me, from the least to the\ngreatest: for I will remember their sin no more' (xxxi. 33, 34). And\nYahweh exclaims: 'My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken\nme, the fountain of living waters, and have hewn out cisterns that can\nhold no water.' 'Lift up thine eyes unto the high places ... thou hast\npolluted the land with thy wickedness.' 'Wilt thou not from this time\ncry unto me: My Father, thou art the guide of my youth?' (ii. 13, iii.\n2, 4). And Deuteronomy teaches magnificently: 'This commandment which I\ncommand you this day, is not too hard for thee, neither is it far off.\nIt is not in heaven, neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest\nsay: Who shall go up for us to heaven or over the sea, and bring it unto\nus? But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth and in thy heart,\nthat thou mayest do it' (xxx. 11-14). And there are here exquisite\ninjunctions--to bring back stray cattle to their owners; to spare the\nsitting bird, where eggs or fledglings are found; to leave over, at the\nharvest, some of the grain, olives, grapes, for the stranger, the\norphan, the widow; and not to muzzle the ox when treading out the corn\n(xxii. 1, 6, 7; xxiv. 19; xxv. 4). Yet the same Deuteronomy ordains: 'If\nthine own brother, son, daughter, wife, or bosom friend entice thee\nsecretly, saying, let us go and serve other gods, thine hand shall be\nfirst upon him to put him to death.' Also 'There shall not be found with\nthee any consulter with a familiar spirit ... or a necromancer. Yahweh\nthy God doth drive them out before thee.' And, finally, amongst the laws\nof war, 'of the cities of these people (Hittite, Amorite, Canaanite,\nPerizzite, Hivite, Jebusite) thou shalt save alive nothing that\nbreatheth, as Yahweh thy God hath commanded thee' (xii. 2-5; xiii. 6, 9;\nxviii. 10-13; xx. 16, 17). Here we must remember that the immorality of\nthese Canaanitish tribes and cults was of the grossest, indeed largely\nunnatural, kind; that it had copiously proved its terrible fascination\nfor their kinsmen, the Jews; that these ancient Easterns, e.g. the\nAssyrians, were ruthlessly cruel at the storming of enemy cities; and\nespecially that the morality and spirituality, thus saved for humanity\nfrom out of a putrid flood, was (in very deed) immensely precious. One\npoint here is particularly far-sighted--the severe watchfulness against\nall animism, spiritualism, worship of the dead, things in which the\nenvironing world of the Jews' fellow Semites was steeped. The\nIsraelitish-Jewish prophetic movement did not first attain belief in a\nFuture Life, and then, through this, belief in God; but the belief in\nGod, strongly hostile to all those spiritualisms, only very slowly, and\nnot until the danger of any infusion of those naturalisms had become\nremote, led on the Jews to a realization of the soul's survival with a\nconsciousness at least equal to its earthly aliveness. The Second Book\nof Kings (chaps. xxii, xxiii) gives a graphic account of King Josiah's\nrigorous execution of the Deuteronomic law.\n\nThe end of this most full second period is marked by the now rapid\npredominance of a largely technical priestly legislation and a\ncorresponding conception of past history; by the inception of the\nSynagogue and the religion of the Book; but also by writings the most\nprofound of any in the Old Testament, all presumably occasioned by the\nprobing experiences of the Exile. In 597 and 586 B.C. Jerusalem is\ndestroyed and the majority of the Jews are taken captives to Babylon;\nand in between (in 593) occurs the vocation of the prophet-priest\nEzekiel, and his book is practically complete by 573 B.C. Here the\nprophecies as to the restoration are strangely detailed and\nschematic--already somewhat like the apocalyptic writers. Yet Ezekiel\nreveals to us deathless truths--the responsibility of the individual\nsoul for its good and its evil, and God Himself as the Good Shepherd of\nthe lost and the sick (xviii. 20-32; xxxiv. 1-6); he gives us the grand\npictures of the resurrection unto life of the dead bones of Israel\n(chap. xxxvii), and of the waters of healing and of life which flow\nforth, ever deeper and wider, from beneath the Temple, and by their\nsweetness transform all sour waters and arid lands that they touch\n(xlvii. 1-12). A spirit and doctrine closely akin to those of Ezekiel\nproduced the third, last, and most extensive development of the\nPentateuchal legislation and doctrinal history--in about 560 B.C., the\nLaw of Holiness (Lev., chaps. xvii-xxvi); and in about 500 B.C., the\nPriestly Code. As with Ezekiel's look forward, so here with these\nPriests' look backward, we have to recognize much schematic precision of\ndates, genealogies, and explanations instinct with technical interests.\nThe unity of sanctuary and the removal from the feasts and the worship\nof all traces of naturalism, which in Jeremiah, Deuteronomy, and the\nSecond Book of Kings appear still as the subject-matters of intensest\neffort and conflict, are here assumed as operative even back to\npatriarchal times. Yet it can reasonably be pleaded that the life-work\nof Moses truly involved all this development; and even that Monotheism\n(at least, for the times and peoples here concerned) required some such\nrules as are assumed by P throughout.\n\nAnd P gives us the great six days' Creation Story with its splendid\nsense of rational order pervasive of the Universe, the work of the\nall-reasonable God--its single parts good, its totality very good; and\nman and woman springing together from the Creator's will. But the writer\nnowhere indicates that he means long periods by the 'days'; each\ncreation appears as effected in an instant, and these instants as\nseparated from each other by but twenty-four hours.\n\nIn between Deuteronomy and the Priestly Code, or a little later still,\nlies probably the composition of three religious works full,\nrespectively, of exultant thanksgiving, of the noblest insight into the\nfruitfulness of suffering, and of the deepest questionings issuing in\nchildlike trust in God. For an anonymous writer composes (say, in 550\nB.C.) the great bulk of the magnificent chapters forty to fifty-five of\nour Book of Isaiah--a paean of spiritual exultation over the Jews'\nproximate deliverance from exile by the Persian King Cyrus. In 538 B.C.\nCyrus issues the edict for the restoration to Judaea, and in 516 the\nSecond Temple is dedicated. Within this great Consolation stand (xlii.\n1-4; xlix. 1-6; l. 4-9; lii. 13-liii. 12) the four poems on the\nSuffering Servant of Yahweh--the tenderest revelation of the Old\nTestament--apparently written previously in the Exile, say in 570-560\nB.C. The Old Law here reaches to the very feet of the New Law--to the\nLamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. And the Book of Job,\nin its chief constituents (chaps. i-xxxi, xxxviii-xlii), was probably\ncomposed when Greek influences began--say in about 480 B.C., the year of\nthe battle of Thermopylae. The canonization of this daringly speculative\nbook indicates finely how sensitive even the deepest faith and holiness\ncan remain to the apparently unjust distribution of man's earthly lot.\n\nOur second period ends in 444 B.C., when the priest and scribe Ezra\nsolemnly proclaims, and receives the public subscription to, the Book of\nthe Law of Moses--the Priestly Code, brought by him from Babylon.\n\nThe Jewish last period, from Ezra's Proclamation 444 B.C. to the\ncompletion of the Fourth Book of Ezra, about A.D. 95, is (upon the\nwhole) derivative. Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah were absorbed in the realities\nof their own epoch-making times, and of God's universal governance of\nthe world past and future; Daniel now, with practically all the other\nApocalyptic writers in his train, is absorbed in those earlier\nprophecies, and in ingenious speculations and precise computations as to\nthe how and the when of the world's ending. The Exile had given rise to\nthe Synagogue, and had favoured the final development and codifying of\nthe Mosaic law; the seventy years intermission of the Temple sacrifices\nand symbolic acts had turned the worship, which had been so largely\nvisible, dramatic, social, into the praying, singing, reading, preaching\nof extant texts, taken as direct and final rules for all thought and\naction, and as incapable of additions or interpretations equal in value\nto themselves. Yet thus priceless treasures of spiritual truth and light\nwere handed down to times again aglow with great--the greatest religious\ngifts and growths; and indeed this literature itself introduced various\nconceptions or images destined to form a largely fitting, and in the\ncircumstances attractive, garment for the profound further realities\nbrought by Christianity.\n\nIn the Book of Daniel (written somewhere between 163 and 165 B.C.) all\nearthly events appear as already inscribed in the heavenly books (vii.\n10), and the events which have still really to come consist in the\ncomplete and speedy triumph of the Church-State Israel against King\nAntiochus Epiphanes. But here we get the earliest clear proclamation of\na heightened life beyond death--though not yet for all (xii. 2). The\nnoble vision of the four great beasts that came up from the sea, and of\none like unto a Son of Man that came with the clouds of heaven (chap.\nvii), doubtless here figures the earthly kingdoms, Babel, Media, Persia,\nGreece (Alexander), and God's kingdom Israel. The Psalter appears to\nhave been closed as late as 140 B.C.; some Psalms doubtless date back to\n701--a few perhaps to David himself, about 1000 B.C. The comminatory\nPsalms, even if spoken as by representatives of God's Church and people,\nwe cannot now echo within our own spiritual life; any heightened\nconsciousness after death is frequently denied (e.g. vi. 5: 'in the\ngrave who shall give thee thanks?' and cxv. 17: 'the dead praise not the\nLord')--we have seen the impressive reason of this; and perhaps a\nquarter of the Psalms are doubles, or pale imitations of others. But,\nfor the rest, the Psalter remains as magnificently fresh and powerful as\never: culminating in the glorious self-commitment (Ps. lxxiii), 'I was\nas a beast before Thee. Nevertheless I am continually with Thee. Whom\nhave I in heaven but Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire\nbeside Thee.' The keen sense, present throughout this amazingly rich\ncollection, of the reality, prevenience, presence, protection--of the\ncentral importance for man, of God, the All-Abiding, finds thus its\nfull, deathless articulation.\n\nReligiously slighter, yet interesting as a preparation for Christian\ntheology, are the writings of Philo, a devout, Greek-trained Jew of\nAlexandria, who in A.D. 40 appeared before the Emperor Caligula in Rome.\nPhilo does not feel his daringly allegorical sublimations as any\ndepartures from the devoutest Biblical faith. Thus 'God never ceases\nfrom action; as to burn is special to fire, so is action to God'--this\nin spite of God's rest on the seventh day (Gen. ii. 2). 'There exist two\nkinds of men: the heavenly man and the earthly man.'[42] The long Life\nof Moses[43] represents him as the King, Lawgiver, High Priest, Prophet,\nMediator. The Word, the Logos (which here everywhere hovers near, but\nnever reaches, personality) is 'the firstborn son of God', 'the image of\nGod'[44]; its types are 'the Rock', the Manna, the High Priest's Coat;\nit is 'the Wine Pourer and Master of the Drinking Feast of God'.[45] The\nmajority of the Jews, who did not accept Jesus as the Christ, soon felt\nthey had no need for so much allegory, and dropped it, with advantage\nupon the whole, to the Jewish faith. But already St. Paul and the Fourth\nGospel find here noble mental raiment for the great new facts revealed\nby Jesus Christ.\n\n2. The Christian Religion we will take, as to our points, at four stages\nof its development--Synoptic, Johannine, Augustinian, Thomistic.\n\nThe Synoptic material here specially concerned we shall find especially\nin Mark i. 1 to xv. 47; but also in Matt. iii. 1 to xxvii. 56, and in\nLuke iii. 1 to xxiii. 56. Within the material thus marked off, there is\nno greater or lesser authenticity conferred by treble, or double, or\nonly single attestation; for this material springs from two original\nsources--a collection primarily of doings and sufferings, which our Mark\nincorporates with some expansions; and a collection primarily of\ndiscourses, utilized especially by Matthew and Luke in addition to the\noriginal Mark. Both these sources contain the records of eyewitnesses,\nprobably Saints Peter and Matthew.\n\nThe chronological order and the special occasions of the growths in our\nLord's self-manifestation, or in the self-consciousness of His human\nsoul, are most carefully given by Mark and next by Luke. Matthew largely\nignores the stages and occasions of both these growths, and assumes, as\nfully explicit from the beginning of the Ministry, what was manifested\nonly later on or at the last; and he already introduces ecclesiastical\nand Christological terms and discriminations which, however really\nimplicit as to their substance in Jesus's teaching, or inevitable (as to\ntheir particular form) for the maintenance and propagation of\nChristianity in the near future, are nevertheless still absent from the\naccounts of Mark and Luke.\n\nThe chief rules for the understanding of the specific character of our\nLord's revelation appear to be the following. The life and teaching must\nbe taken entire; and, within this entirety, each stage must be\napprehended in its own special peculiarities. The thirty years in the\nhome, the school, the synagogue, the workshop at Nazareth, form a\nprofoundly important constituent of His life and teaching--impressively\ncontrasted, as they are, with the probably not full year of the Public\nMinistry, even though we are almost completely bereft of all details for\nthose years of silent preparation.\n\nThe Public Ministry, again, consists of two strongly contrasted stages,\ndivided by the great scene of Jesus with the Apostles alone at Caesarea\nPhilippi (Mark viii. 27-33; Luke ix. 18-22; Matt. xvi. 13-23). The stage\nbefore is predominantly expansive, hopeful, peacefully growing; the\nstage after, is concentrated, sad, in conflict, and in storm. To the\nfirst stage belong the plant parables, full of exquisite sympathy with\nthe unfolding of natural beauty and of slow fruitfulness; to the second\nstage belong the parables of keen watchfulness and of the proximate,\nsudden second coming. Both movements are essential to the physiognomy of\nour Lord. And they are not simply differences in self-manifestation;\nthey represent a growth, a relatively new element, in His human soul's\nexperience and outlook.\n\nThe central doctrine in the teaching is throughout the Kingdom of God.\nBut in the first stage this central doctrine appears as especially\nupheld by Jesus's fundamental experience--the Fatherhood of God. In the\nsecond stage the central doctrine appears as especially coloured by\nJesus's other great experience--of Himself as the Son of Man. In the\nearlier stage the Kingdom is presented more in the spirit of the ancient\nprophets, as predominantly ethical, as already come in its beginnings,\nand as subject to laws analogous to those obtaining in the natural\nworld. In the second stage the coming of the Kingdom is presented more\nwith the form of the apocalyptic writers, in a purely religious,\nintensely transcendent, and dualistic outlook--especially this also in\nthe Parables of Immediate Expectation--as not present but future (Matt.\nxix. 28); not distant but imminent (Matt. xvi. 28; xxiv. 33; xxvi. 64);\nnot gradual but sudden (Matt. xxiv. 27, 39, 43); not at all achieved by\nman but purely given by God (so still in Rev. xxi. 10).\n\nTo the earlier stage belongs the great Rejoicing of Jesus (Matt. xi.\n25-30; Luke x. 21, 22). The splendid opening, 'I thank Thee, Father--for\nso it hath seemed good in Thy sight', and the exquisite close, special\nto Matthew, 'Come unto Me--and my burthen is light', raise no grave\ndifficulty. But the intermediate majestic declaration, 'All things are\ndelivered unto Me by the Father--neither knoweth any man the Father save\nthe Son and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him', causes critical\nperplexities.\n\nI take this declaration to be modelled upon actual words of Jesus, which\ngenuinely implied rather than clearly proclaimed a unique relation\nbetween the Father and Himself. Numerous other words and acts involve\nsuch a relation and Jesus's full consciousness of it. His first public\nact, His baptism, is clearly described by Mark as a personal experience,\n'He saw the heavens opened' and heard a heavenly voice 'Thou art my\nbeloved Son, in whom I am well pleased' (i. 10, 11). Already in the\nfirst stage Jesus declares the Baptist to be 'more than a prophet'\n(Matt. xi. 9), yet claims superiority over him and over Solomon (xi. 11;\nxii. 42). His doctrine is new wine requiring new bottles (Mark ii. 22);\nindeed His whole attitude towards the law is that of a superior, who\nmost really exhorts all, 'Learn of Me'. And soon after Caesarea Philippi\nHe insists to the people: 'Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me in this\ngeneration, of him also shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when He cometh\nin the glory of the Father' (Mark viii. 38). The most numerous cures,\nphysical, psychical, moral, certainly performed by Him, appear as the\nspontaneous effect of a unique degree and kind of spiritual authority;\nand the sinlessness attributed to Him throughout by the apostolic\ncommunity (2 Cor. v. 21; Heb. iv. 15; John viii. 46; 1 John ii. 29)\nentirely corresponds to the absence, in the records of Him, of all\ntraits indicating troubles of conscience and the corresponding fear of\nGod. And this His unique Sonship is conjoined, in the earliest picture\nof Him, with an endless variety and combination of all the joys,\nadmirations, affections, disappointments, desolations, temptations\npossible to such a stainless human soul and will. We thus find here a\ncomprehensiveness unlike the attitude of the Baptist or St. Paul, and\nlike, although far exceeding, the joy in nature and the peace in\nsuffering of St. Francis of Assisi.\n\nThe Second Stage opens with the great scene at Caesarea Philippi and its\nsequel (given with specially marked successiveness in Mark viii. 27-x.\n45), when, for the first time in a manner beyond all dispute, Mark\nrepresents Jesus as adopting the designation 'the Son of Man' in a\nMessianic and eschatological sense. For our Lord here promptly corrects\nPeter's conception of 'Messiah' by repeated insistence upon 'the Son of\nMan'--His glory yet also His sufferings. Thus Jesus adopts the term of\nDaniel vii. 13 (which already the Apocalypse of Enoch had understood of\na personal Messiah) as a succinct description of His specific\nvocation--its heavenly origin and difference from all earthly\nMessianism; its combination of the depths of human weakness,\ndereliction, sufferings with the highest elevation in joy, power and\nglory; and its connexion of that pain with this triumph as strictly\ninterrelated--only with and through the Cross, was there here the offer\nand acceptance of the Crown.\n\nAs to the Passion and Death, and the Risen Life, four points appear to\nbe central and secured. Neither the Old Testament nor Jewish Theology\nreally knew of a Suffering Messiah. Jesus Himself clearly perceived,\naccepted, and carried out this profound new revelation. This suffering\nand death were conceived by Him as the final act and crown of His\nservice--so in Mark x. 44, 45 and Luke xxii. 24-7. (All this remains\nprevious to, and independent of, St. Paul's elaborated doctrine as to\nthe strictly vicarious and juridical character of the whole.) And the\nRisen Life is an objectively real, profoundly operative life--the\nvisions of the Risen One were effects of the truly living Jesus, the\nChrist.\n\nThe Second Christian Stage, the Johannine writings, are fully\nunderstandable only as posterior to St. Paul--the most enthusiastic and\ninfluential, indeed, of all our Lord's early disciples, but a convert,\nfrom the activity of a strict persecuting Pharisee, not to the earthly\nJesus, of soul and body, whom he never knew, but to the heavenly\nSpirit-Christ, whom he had so suddenly experienced. Saul, the man of\nviolent passions and acute interior conflicts, thus abruptly changed in\na substantially _pneumatic_ manner, is henceforth absorbed, not in the\npast Jewish Messiah, but in the present universal Christ; not in the\nKingdom of God, but in Pneuma, the Spirit. Christ, the second Adam, is\nhere a life-giving Spirit, an element that surrounds and penetrates the\nhuman spirit; we are baptized, dipped, into Christ, Spirit; we can drink\nChrist, the Spirit. And this Christ-Spirit effects and maintains the\nuniversal brotherhood of mankind, and articulates in particular posts\nand functions the several human spirits, as variously necessary members\nof the one Christian society and Church.\n\nNow the Johannine Gospel indeed utilizes considerable Synoptic\nmaterials, and does not, as St. Paul, restrict itself to the Passion and\nResurrection. Yet it gives us, substantially, the Spirit-Christ, the\nHeavenly Man; and the growth, prayer, temptation, appeal for sympathy,\ndereliction, agony, which, in the Synoptists, are still so real for the\nhuman soul of Jesus Himself, appear here as sheer condescensions, in\ntime and space, of Him who, as all things good, descends from the\nEternal Above, so that we men here below may ascend thither with Him.\nOn the other hand, the Church and the Sacraments, still predominantly\nimplicit in the Synoptists, and the subjects of costly conflict and\norganization in the Pauline writings, here underlie, as already fully\noperative facts, practically the entire profound work. The great\ndialogue with Nicodemus concerns Baptism; the great discourse in the\nsynagogue at Capernaum, the Holy Eucharist--in both cases, the strict\nneed of these Sacraments. And from the side of the dead Jesus flow blood\nand water, as those two great Sacraments flow from the everliving\nChrist; whilst at the Cross's foot He leaves His seamless coat, symbol\nof the Church's indivisible unity. The Universalism of this Gospel is\nnot merely apparent: 'God so loved the world' (iii. 16), 'the Saviour of\nthe world' (iv. 42)--this glorious teaching is traceable in many a\npassage. Yet Christ here condemns the Jews--in the Synoptists only the\nPharisees; He is from above, they are from below; all those that came\nbefore Him were thieves and robbers; He will not pray for the world--'ye\nshall die in your sins' (xvii. 9; viii. 24); and the commandment,\ndesignated here by Jesus as His own and as new, to 'love one another',\nis for and within the community to which He gives His 'example' (xv. 12;\nxiii. 34)--in contrast with the great double commandment of love\nproclaimed by Him, in the Synoptists, as already formulated in the\nMosaic Law (Mark xii. 28-34), and as directly applicable to every\nfellow-man--indeed, a schismatic Samaritan is given as the pattern of\nsuch perfect love (Luke x. 25-37).\n\nDeuteronomy gained its full articulation in conflict with Canaanite\nimpurity; the Johannine writings take shape during the earlier battles\nof the long war with Gnosticism--the most terrible foe ever, so far,\nencountered by the Catholic Church, and conquered by her in open and\nfair fight. Also these writings lay much stress upon Knowing and the\nTruth: 'this is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God and Jesus\nChrist whom Thou hast sent' (xvii. 3); symbolism and mysticism prevail\nvery largely; and, in so far as they are not absorbed in an Eternal\nPresent, the reception of truth and experience is not limited to\nChrist's earthly sojourn--'the Father will give you another Helper, the\nspirit of truth who will abide with you forever' (xiv. 16). Yet here the\nknowing and the truth are also deeply ethical and social: 'he who doeth\nthe truth cometh to the light' (iii. 21); and Christ has a fold, and\nother sheep not of this fold--them also He must bring, there will be one\nfold, one Shepherd; indeed, ministerial gradations exist in this one\nChurch (so in xiii. 5-10; xx. 3-8; xxi. 7-19). And the Mysticism here is\nbut an emotional intuitive apprehension of the great historical figure\nof Jesus, and of the most specifically religious of all facts--of the\nalready overflowing operative existence, previous to all our action, of\nGod, the Prevenient Love. 'Not we loved God (first), but He (first)\nloved us,' 'let us love Him, because He first loved us,' 'no man can\ncome to Me, unless the Father draw him'--a drawing which awakens a\nhunger and thirst for Christ and God (1 John iv. 10, 19; John vi. 44;\niv. 14; vi. 35).\n\nThe Third Stage we can find in St. Augustine, who, born a North African\nRoman (A.D. 354) and a convert from an impure life and Manichaeism, with\nits spatially extended God (A.D. 386), wrote his _Confessions_ in 397,\nlived to experience the capture and sack of Rome by Alaric the Goth,\n410, composed his great work, _The City of God_, amidst the clear\ndissolution of a mighty past and the dim presage of a problematical\nfuture, and died at Hippo, his episcopal city, in 430, whilst the\nVandals were besieging it. St. Augustine is more largely a convert and a\nrigorist even than St. Paul when St. Paul is most incisive. But here he\nshall testify only to the natures of Eternity and of real time, a matter\nin which he remains unequalled in the delicate vividness and balance of\nhis psychological analysis and religious perception. 'Thou, O God,\nprecedest all past times by the height of Thine ever-present Eternity;\nand Thou exceedest all future times, since they _are_ future, and, once\nthey have come, will be past times. All thy years abide together,\nbecause they abide; but these our years will all be, only when they all\nwill have ceased to be. Thy years are but One Day--not every day, but\nTo-Day. This Thy To-Day is Eternity'.[46] The human soul, even in this\nlife, has moments of a vivid apprehension of Eternity, as in the great\nscene of Augustine and Monica at the window in Ostia.[47] And this our\nsense of Eternity, Beatitude, God, proceeds at bottom from Himself,\nimmediately present in our lives; the succession, duration of man is\nsustained by the Simultaneity, the Eternity of God: 'this day of ours\n_does_ pass within Thee, since all these things' of our deeper\nexperience 'have no means of passing unless, somehow, Thou dost contain\nthem all'. 'Behold, Thou wast within, and I was without ... Thou wast\nwith me, but I was not with Thee.' 'Is not the blessed life precisely\n_that_ life which all men desire? Even those who only hope to be blessed\nwould not, unless they in some manner already possessed the blessed\nlife, desire to be blessed, as, in reality, it is most certain that they\ndesire to be.'[48] Especially satisfactory is the insistence upon the\nfutility of the question as to what God was doing in Time before He\ncreated. Time is only a quality inherent in all creatures; it never\nexisted of itself.[49]\n\nAnd our fourth, last Christian Stage shall be represented by St. Thomas\nAquinas (A.D. 1225-74), in the one great question where this\nNorman-Italian Friar Noble, a soul apparently so largely derivative and\nabstractive, is more complete and balanced, and penetrates to the\nspecific genius of Christianity more deeply, than Saints Paul and\nAugustine with all their greater directness and intensity. We saw how\nthe deepest originality of our Lord's teaching and temper consisted in\nHis non-rigoristic earnestness, in His non-Gnostic detachment from\nthings temporal and spatial. The absorbing expectation of the Second\nComing, indeed the old, largely effete Graeco-Roman world, had first to\ngo, the great Germanic migrations had to be fully completed, the first\nCrusades had to pass, before--some twelve centuries after Nazareth and\nCalvary--Christianity attained in Aquinas a systematic and promptly\nauthoritative expression of this its root-peculiarity and power. No one\nhas put the point better than Professor E. Troeltsch: 'The decisive\npoint here is the conception, peculiar to the Middle Ages, of what is\nChristian as Supernatural, or rather the full elaboration of the\nconsequences involved in the conception of the Supernatural. The\nSupernatural is now recognized not only in the great complicated miracle\nof man's redemption from out of the world corrupted by original sin. But\nthe Supernatural now unfolds itself as an autonomous principle of a\nlogical, religious and ethical kind. The creature, even the perfect\ncreature, is only Natural--is possessed of only natural laws and ends;\nGod alone is Supernatural. Hence the essence of Christian\nSupernaturalism consists in the elevation of the creature, above this\ncreature's co-natural limitations, to God's own Supernature'. The\ndistinction is no longer, as in the Ancient Church, between two kinds\n(respectively perfect and relative) of the one sole Natural Law; the\ndistinction here is between Natural Law in general and Supernature\ngenerally. 'The Decalogue, in strictness, is not yet the Christian\nEthic. \"Biblical\" now means revealed, but not necessarily Christian; for\nthe Bible represents, according to Aquinas, a process of development\nwhich moves through universal history and possesses various stages. The\nDecalogue is indeed present in the legislation of Christ, but as a stage\npreliminary to the specifically Christian Ethic. The formula, on the\ncontrary, for the specifically Christian Moral Law is here the\nAugustinian definition of the love of God as the highest and absolute,\nthe entirely simple, Moral end--an end which contains the demand of the\nlove of God in the stricter sense (self-sanctification, self-denial,\ncontemplation) and the demand of the love of our neighbour (the active\nrelating of all to God, the active interrelating of all in God, and the\nmost penetrating, mutual self-sacrifice for God). This Ethic, a mystical\ninterpretation of the Evangelical Preaching, forms indeed a strong\ncontrast to the This-World Ethic of the Natural Law, Aristotle, the\nDecalogue and Natural Prosperity; but then this cannot fail to be the\ncase, given the entire fundamental character of the Christian\nEthic'.[50]\n\nThus the widest and most primitive contrasts here are, not Sin and\nRedemption (though these, of course, remain) but Nature (however good in\nits kind) and Supernature. The State becomes the complex of that\nessentially good thing, Nature; the Church the complex of that\ndifferent, higher good, Supernature; roughly speaking, where the State\nleaves off, the Church begins.\n\nIt lasted not long, before the Canonists and certain ruling Churchmen\nhelped to break up, in the consciousness of men at large, this noble\nperception of the two-step ladder from God to man and from man to God.\nAnd the Protestant Reformers, as a whole, went even beyond Saints Paul\nand Augustine in exclusive preoccupation with Sin and Redemption.\nHenceforth the single-step character of man's call now more than ever\npredominates. The Protestant Reformation, like the French Revolution,\nmarks the existence of grave abuses, the need of large reforms, and,\nespecially on this point, the all but inevitable excessiveness of man\nonce he is aroused to such 'reforming' action. Certainly, to this hour,\nProtestantism as such has produced, within and for religion\nspecifically, nothing that can seriously compare, in massive, balanced\ncompleteness, with the work of the short-lived golden Middle Ages of\nAquinas and Dante. Hence, for our precise present purpose, we can\nconclude our Jewish and Christian survey here.\n\n3. Only a few words about Confucianism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism, as\nthese, in some of their main outlines, illustrate the points especially\nbrought out by the Jewish Christian development.\n\nConfucianism admittedly consists, at least as we have it, in a greatly\ncomplicated system of the direct worship of Nature (Sun, Moon, Stars\nespecially) and of Ancestors, and of a finely simple system of ethical\nrules for man's ordinary social intercourse. That Nature-worship closely\nresembles what the Deuteronomic reform fought so fiercely in Israel; and\nthe immemorial antiquity and still vigorous life of such a worship in\nChina indicates impressively how little such Nature-worship tends, of\nitself, to its own supersession by a definite Theism. And the Ethical\nRules, and their very large observance, illustrate well how real can be\nthe existence, and the goodness in its own kind, of Natural, This-World\nmorality, even where it stands all but entirely unpenetrated or\nsupplemented by any clear and strong supernatural attraction or\nconviction.\n\nBuddhism, in its original form, consisted neither in the Wheel of\nReincarnation alone, nor in _Nirvana_ alone, but precisely in the\ncombination of the two; for that ceaseless flux of reincarnation was\nthere felt with such horror, that the _Nirvana_--the condition in which\nthat flux is abolished--was hailed as a blessed release. The judgement\nas to the facts--that all human experience is of sheer, boundless\nchange--was doubtless excessive; but the value-judgement--that if life\nbe such pure shiftingness, then the cessation of life is the one end for\nman to work and pray for--was assuredly the authentic cry of the human\nsoul when fully normal and awake. This position thus strikingly confirms\nthe whole Jewish and Christian persistent search for permanence in\nchange--for a Simultaneity, the support of our succession.\n\nAnd Mohammedanism, both in its striking achievements and in its marked\nlimitations, indeed also in the presentations of it by its own\nspokesmen, appears as a religion primarily not of a special pervasive\nspirit and of large, variously applicable maxims, but as one of precise,\nentirely immutable rules. Thus we find here something not all unlike,\nbut mostly still more rigid than, the post-Exilic Jewish\nreligion--something doubtless useful for certain times and races, but\nwhich could not expand and adapt itself to indefinite varieties of\ngrowths and peoples without losing that interior unity and self-identity\nso essential to all living and powerful religion.\n\n\nIII\n\nLet us now attempt, in a somewhat loose and elastic order, a short\nallocation and estimate of the facts in past and present religion which\nmainly concern the question of Religion and Progress.\n\nWe West Europeans have apparently again reached the fruitful stage when\nman is not simply alive to this or that physical or psychic need, nor\neven to the practical interest and advantage of this or that Art,\nScience, Sociology, Politics, Ethics; but when he awakens further to the\nquestion as to why and how these several activities, all so costly where\nat all effectual, can deserve all this sacrifice--can be based in\nanything sufficiently abiding and objective. The history of all the past\nefforts, and indeed all really adequate richness of immediate outlook,\ncombine, I think, to answer that only the experience and the conviction\nof an Objective Reality distinct from, and more than, man, or indeed\nthan the whole of the world apprehended by man as less than, or as equal\nto, man himself, can furnish sufficiently deep and tenacious roots for\nour sense and need of an objective supreme Beauty, Truth, and\nGoodness--of a living Reality already overflowing that which, in lesser\ndegrees and ways, we small realities cannot altogether cease from\ndesiring to become. It is Religion which, from first to last, but with\nincreasing purity and power, brings with it this evidence and\nconviction. Its sense of the Objective, Full Reality of God, and its\nneed of Adoration are quite essential to Religion, although considerable\nsystems, which are largely satisfactory in the more immediate questions\nraised by Aesthetics and even by Ethics, and which are sincerely anxious\nto do justice also to the religious sense, are fully at work to explain\naway these essential characteristics of all wideawake Religion. Paul\nNatorp, the distinguished Plato-scholar in Germany, the short-lived\npathetically eloquent M. Guyau in France, and, above all, Benedetto\nCroce, the large encyclopaedic mind in Italy, have influenced or led\nmuch of this movement, which, in questions of Religion, has assuredly\nnot reached the deepest and most tenacious teachings of life.\n\nThe intimations as to this deepest Reality certainly arise within my own\nmind, emotion, will; and these my faculties cannot, upon the whole, be\nconstrained by my fellow mortals; indeed, as men grow more manysidedly\nawake, all attempts at any such constraint only arrest or deflect the\ngrowth of these intimations. Yet the dispositions necessary for the\nsufficient apprehension of these religious intimations--sincerity,\nconscientiousness, docility--are not, even collectively, already\nReligion, any more than they are Science or Philosophy. With these\ndispositions on our part, objective facts and living Reality can reach\nus--and, even so, these facts reach us practically always, at first,\nthrough human teachers already experienced in these things. The need of\nsuch facts and such persons to teach them are, in the first years of\nevery man, and for long ages in the history of mankind, far more\npressing than any question of toleration. Even vigorous persecution or\nkeen exclusiveness of feeling have--_pace_ Lord Acton--saved for\nmankind, at certain crises of its difficult development, convictions of\npriceless worth--as in the Deuteronomic Reform and the Johannine\nWritings. In proportion as men become more manysidedly awake, they\nacquire at least the capacity for greater sensitiveness concerning the\nlaws and forces intrinsic to the various ranges and levels of life; and,\nwhere such sensitiveness is really at work, it can advantageously\nreplace, by means of the spontaneous acceptance of such objective\nrealities, the constraints of past ages--constraints which now, in any\ncase, have become directly mischievous for such minds. None the less\nwill men, after this change as before, require the corporate experience\nand manifestation of religion as, in varying degrees and ways, a\npermanent necessity for the vigorous life of religion. Indeed, such\ncorporate tradition operates strongly even where men's spiritual sense\nseems most individual, or where, with the retention of some ethical\nnobility of outlook, they most keenly combat all and every religious\ninstitution. So with George Fox's doctrine of the Divine Enlightenment\nof every soul separately and without mediation of any kind, a doctrine\nderived by him from that highly ecclesiastical document, the Gospel of\nSt. John; and with many a Jacobin's fierce proclamation of the rights of\nMan, never far away from reminiscences of St. Paul.\n\nThis permanent necessity of Religious Institutions is primarily a need\nfor men to teach and exemplify, not simply Natural, This-World Morality,\nbut a Supernatural, Other-World Ethic; and not simply that abstraction,\nReligion in General or a Religious Hypothesis, but that rich concretion,\nthis or that Historical Religion. In proportion as such an Historical\nReligion is deep and delicate, it will doubtless contain affinities with\nall that is wholesome and real within the other extant historical\nreligions. Nevertheless, all religions are effectual through their\nspecial developments, where these developments remain true at all. As\nwell deprive a flower of its 'mere details' of pistil, stamen, pollen,\nor an insect of its 'superfluous' antennae, as simplify any Historical\nReligion down to the sorry stump labelled 'the religion of every honest\nman'. We shall escape all bigotry, without lapsing into such most unjust\nindifferentism, if we vigorously hold and unceasingly apply the doctrine\nof such a Church theologian as Juan de Lugo. De Lugo (A.D. 1583-1660),\nSpaniard, post-Reformation Roman Catholic, Jesuit, Theological\nProfessor, and a Cardinal writing in Rome under the eyes of Pope Urban\nVIII, teaches that the members of the various Christian sects, of the\nJewish and Mohammedan communions, and of the heathen religions and\nphilosophical schools, who achieve their salvation, do so, ordinarily,\nsimply through the aid afforded by God's grace to their good faith in\nits instinctive concentration upon, and in its practice of, those\nelements in their respective community's worship and teaching, which are\ntrue and good and originally revealed by God.[51] Thus we escape all\nundue individualism and all unjust equalization of the (very variously\nvaluable) religious and philosophical bodies; and yet we clearly hold\nthe profound importance of the single soul's good faith and religious\ninstinct, and of the worship or school, be they ever so elementary and\nimperfect, which environ such a soul.\n\nA man's religion, in proportion to its depth, will move in a Concrete\nTime which becomes more and more a Partial Simultaneity. And these his\ndepths then more and more testify to, and contrast with, the Fully\nSimultaneous, God. Because man thus lives, not in an ever-equal chain of\nmutually exclusive moments, in Clock Time, but in Duration, with its\nvariously close interpenetrations of the successive parts; and because\nthese interpenetrations are close in proportion to the richness and\nfruitfulness of the durations he lives through; he can, indeed he must,\nconceive absolutely perfect life as absolutely simultaneous. God is thus\nnot Unending, but Eternal; the very fullness of His life leaves no room\nor reason for succession and our poor need of it. Dr. F. C. S. Schiller\nhas admirably drawn out this grand doctrine, with the aid of Aristotle's\nUnmoving Action, in _Humanism_, 1903, pp. 204-27. We need only\npersistently apprehend this Simultaneity as essential to God, and\nSuccession as varyingly essential to all creatures, and there remains no\ndifficulty--at least as regards the Time-element--in the doctrine of\nCreation. For only with the existence of creatures does Time thus arise\nat all--it exists only in and through them. And assuredly all finite\nthings, that we know at all, bear traces of a history involving a\nbeginning and an end. Professor Bernardino Varisco, in his great _Know\nThyself_, has noble pages on this large theme.[52] In any case we must\nbeware of all more or less Pantheistic conceptions of the simultaneous\nlife of God and the successive life of creatures as but essential and\nnecessary elements of one single Divine-Creaturely existence, in the\nmanner, e.g., of Professor Josiah Royce, in his powerful work _The World\nand the Individual_, 2nd series, 1901. All such schemes break down under\nan adequate realization of those dread facts error and evil. A certain\nreal independence must have been left by God to reasonable creatures.\nAnd let it be noted carefully: the great difficulty against all Theism\nlies in the terrible reality of Evil; and the deepest adequacy of this\nsame Theism, especially of Christianity, consists in its practical\nattitude towards, and success against, this most real Evil. But\nPantheism increases, whilst seeming to surmount, the theoretical\ndifficulty, since the world as it stands, and not an Ultimate Reality\nbehind it, is held to be perfect; and it entirely fails really to\ntransmute Evil in practice. Theism, no more than any other outlook,\nreally explains Evil; but it alone, in its fullest, Jewish-Christian\nforms, has done more, and better, than explain Evil: it has fully faced,\nit has indeed greatly intensified, the problem, by its noble insistence\nupon the reality and heinousness of Sin; and it has then overcome all\nthis Evil, not indeed in theory, but in practice, by actually producing\nin the midst of deep suffering, through a still deeper faith and love,\nsouls the living expression of the deepest beatitude and peace.\n\nThe fully Simultaneous Reality awakens and satisfies man's deepest, most\nnearly simultaneous life, by a certain adaptation of its own intrinsic\nlife to these human spirits. In such varyingly 'incarnational' acts or\naction the non-successive God Himself condescends to a certain\nsuccessiveness; but this, in order to help His creatures to achieve as\nmuch simultaneity as is compatible with their several ranks and calls.\nWe must not wonder if, in the religious literature, these condescensions\nof God largely appear as though they themselves were more or less\nnon-successive; nor, again, if the deepest religious consciousness tends\nusually to conceive God's outward action, if future, then as proximate,\nand, if present, then as strictly instantaneous. For God in Himself is\nindeed Simultaneous; and if we try to picture Simultaneity by means of\ntemporal images at all, then the instant, and not any period long or\nshort, is certainly nearest to the truth--as regards the form and\nvehicle of the experience.\n\nThe greater acts of Divine Condescension and Self-Revelation, our\nReligious _Accessions_, have mostly occurred at considerable intervals,\neach from the other, in our human history. After they have actually\noccurred, these several acts can be compared and arranged, according to\ntheir chief characteristics, and even in a series of (upon the whole)\ngrowing content and worth--hence the Science of Religion. Yet such\nScience gives us no power to produce, or even to foresee, any further\nacts. These great Accessions of Spiritual Knowledge and Experience are\nnot the simple result of the conditions obtaining previously in the\nother levels of life, or even in that of religion itself; they often\nmuch anticipate, they sometimes greatly lag behind, the rise or decline\nof the other kinds of life. And where (as with the great Jewish\nProphets, and, in some degree, with John the Baptist and Our Lord) these\nAccessions do occur at times of national stress, these several crises\nare, at most, the occasion for the demand, not the cause of the supply.\n\nThe mostly long gaps between these Accessions have been more or less\nfilled up, amongst the peoples concerned, by varyingly vigorous and\nvaluable attempts to articulate and systematize, to apply in practice,\nand rightly to place (within the other ranges of man's total life) these\ngreat, closely-packed masses of spiritual fact; or to elude, to deflect,\nor directly to combat them, or some of their interpretations or\napplications. Now fairly steady improvement is possible, desirable, and\nlargely actual, in the critical sifting and appraisement, as to the\ndates and the actual reality, of the historical documents and details of\nthese Accessions; in the philosophical articulation of their doctrinal\nand evidential content; in the finer understanding and wider application\nof their ethical demands; and in the greater adequacy (both as to\nfirmness and comprehensiveness) of the institutional organs and\nincorporations special to these same Accessions. All this can and does\nprogress, but mostly slowly, intermittently, with short violent\nparoxysms of excess and long sleepy reactions of defect, with\none-sidedness, travesties, and--worst of all--with worldly indifference\nand self-seeking. The grace and aid of the Simultaneous Richness are\nhere also always necessary; nor can these things ever really progress\nexcept through a deep religious sense--all mere scepticism and all\nlevelling down are simply so much waste. Still, we can speak of progress\nin the Science of Religion more appropriately than we can of progress in\nthe Knowledge of Religion.\n\nThe Crusades, the Renaissance, the Revolution, no doubt exercised, in\nthe long run, so potent a secularizing influence, because men's minds\nhad become too largely other-worldly--had lost a sufficient interest in\nthis wonderful world; and hence all those new, apparently boundless\noutlooks and problems were taken up largely as a revolt and escape from\nwhat looked like a prison-house--religion. Yet through all these violent\noscillations there persisted, in human life, the supernatural need and\ncall. In this God is the great central interest, love and care of the\nsoul. We must look to it that both these interests and Ethics are kept\nawake, strong and distinct within a costingly rich totality of life: the\nEthic of the honourable citizen, merchant, lawyer--of Confucius and\nSocrates; and the Ethic of the Jewish Prophets at their deepest, of the\nSuffering Servant, of our Lord's Beatitudes, of St. Paul's great eulogy\nof love, of Augustine and Monica at the window in Ostia, of Father\nDamian's voluntarily dying a leper amidst the lepers. The Church is the\nborn incorporation of this pole, as the State is of the other. The\nChurch indeed should, at its lower limit, also encourage the This-world\nStage; the State, at its higher limit, can, more or less consciously,\nprepare us for the Other-World Stage. Both spring from the same God, at\ntwo levels of His action; both concern the same men, at two stages of\ntheir response and need. Yet the primary duty of the State is turned to\nthis life; the primary care of the Church, to that life--to life in its\ndeepest depths.\n\nWill men, after this great war, more largely again apprehend, love, and\npractise this double polarity of their lives? Only thus will the truest\nprogress be possible in the understanding, the application, and the\nfruitfulness of Religion, with its great central origin and object, God,\nthe beginning and end of all our true progress, precisely because He\nHimself already possesses immeasurably more than all He helps us to\nbecome,--He Who, even now already, is our Peace in Action, our Joy even\nin the Cross.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nI.   1. Oswold Kuelpe, _The Philosophy of the Present in Germany_,\n     English translation. London: George Allen, 1913, _3s. 6d._\n     net.\n\n     2. J. McKeller Stewart, _A Critical Exposition of Bergon's\n     Philosophy_. London: Macmillan, 1913, _6s._ net.\n\nII.  1. R. H. Charles, _A Critical History of the Doctrine of a Future\n     Life_. London: A. & C. Black, 1899, _10s. 6d._ net.\n\n     2. Ernest T. Scott, _The Fourth Gospel_. Edinburgh: T. & T.\n     Clark, 1906, _6s._ net.\n\nIII. 1. Aliotta, _The Idealistic Reaction against Science_. English\n     translation. Macmillan, 1914, _12s._ net.\n\n     2. F. C. Schiller, _Humanism_, Macmillan, 1903, _7s. 6d._ net.\n\n     3. C. C. J. Webb, _Group Theories of Religion and the Individual_,\n     Allen and Unwin, 1916, _5s._ net.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[32] _The Idealistic Reaction against Science_, Engl. tr. 1914, pp. 6,\n7.\n\n[33] _A Critical Account of the Philosophy of Lotze_, 1895, p. 104.\n\n[34] Aliotta, op. cit., pp. 89, 187.\n\n[35] _Encyl. Brit._, 'Psychology,' 11th ed., p. 577.\n\n[36] Ed. 1898, p. 90.\n\n[37] _Discours sur la Methode_, 1637, IVe Partie.\n\n[38] Aliotta, op. cit., p. 408.\n\n[39] Ed. 1893, vol. ii, p. 759.\n\n[40] _First Principles_, 6th ed., 1900, vol. i, p. 67.\n\n[41] Article, 'Moses,' in _Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart_,\n1913.\n\n[42] Ed. Mangey, vol. i, pp. 44, 49.\n\n[43] Ibid., pp. 80-179.\n\n[44] Ibid., pp. 308, 427.\n\n[45] Ibid., pp. 213, 121, 562, 691.\n\n[46] _Conf._ x, 13, 2.\n\n[47] Autumn, 387.\n\n[48] _Conf._ 1, 6, 3; x, 27; x, 20.\n\n[49] _Conf._ xi, 13.\n\n[50] _Die Soziallehren der christlichen Kirchen und Gruppen_, 1912, pp.\n263-5.\n\n[51] _De Fide_, Disp. xix, 7, 10; xx, 107, 194.\n\n[52] _Cognosci Te Stesso_, 1912, pp. 144-7.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nMORAL PROGRESS\n\nL. P. JACKS\n\n\nFrom the syllabus of all the lectures in this course I gather that every\nlecturer on the programme is dealing with the question of moral\nprogress. This is inevitable. Each lecturer must show that the\nparticular sort of progress he is dealing with is real or genuine\nprogress, and this it cannot be unless it is moral. That is itself a\nsignificant fact and throws a valuable light on our subject. It shows\nthat progress, as it is studied throughout the course, is not progress\nin the abstract, whatever that may mean, but progress _for us_\nconstituted as we are; and since our constitution is essentially moral\nall progress that we can recognize as such must be moral also. Science,\nIndustry, Government, might all claim progress on their own ground and\nin their own nature, but this would not prove progress as we understand\nthe word, unless it could be shown further that these things contribute\nto human betterment in the highest sense of the word. _Their_ progress\nmight conceivably involve _our_ regress.\n\nTo believe in moral progress as an historical fact, as a process that\nhas begun, and is going on, and will be continued--that is one thing,\nand it is my own position. To believe that this progress is far advanced\nis another thing, and is not my position. While believing in Moral\nProgress as a fact, I also believe that we are much nearer to the\nbeginnings of it than the end. We should do well to accustom ourselves\nto this thought. Many of our despairs, lamentations, and pessimisms are\ndisappointments which arise from our extravagant notions of the degree\nof progress already attained. There has been a great deal of what I have\ncalled philosophic pharisaism. Perhaps it would be better called aeonic\npharisaism. I mean the spirit in the present age which seems to say 'I\nthank thee, O God, that I am not as former ages: ignorant, barbaric,\ncruel, unsocial; I read books, ride in aeroplanes, eat my dinner with a\nknife and fork, and cheerfully pay my taxes to the State; I study human\nscience, talk freely about humanity, and spend much of my time in making\nspeeches on social questions'. Now there is truth in all this, but not\nthe kind of truth which should lead us to self-flattery. A good rule for\noptimists would be this: 'Believe in moral progress, but do not believe\nin too much of it.' I think there would be more optimists in the world,\nmore cheerfulness, more belief in moral progress, if we candidly faced\nthe fact that morally considered we are still in a neolithic age, not\nbrutes indeed any longer, and yet not so far outgrown the brutish stage\nas to justify these trumpetings. One of the beneficent lessons of the\npresent war has been to moderate our claims in this respect. It has\nrevealed us to ourselves as nothing else in history has ever done, and\nit has revealed, among other things, that moral progress is not nearly\nso advanced as we thought it was. It has been a terrible blow to the\npharisaism of which I have just spoken. It has not discredited science,\nnor philosophy, nor government, nor anything else that we value, but it\nhas shown that these things have not brought us as far as we thought.\nThat very knowledge, when you come to think of it, is itself a very\ndistinct step in moral progress. Before the war we were growing morally\nconceited; we thought ourselves much better, more advanced in morality,\nthan we really were, and this conceit was acting as a real barrier to\nour farther advance. A sharp lesson was needed to take this conceit out\nof us--to remind us that as yet we are only at the bare beginnings of\nmoral advance--and not, as some of us fondly imagined, next door to the\ngoal. This sudden awakening to the truth is full of promise for the\nfuture.\n\nAnd now what is the cause of these exaggerated notions which so many of\nus have entertained? I think they arise from our habit of letting\nourselves be guided by words rather than by realities, by what men are\n_saying_ rather than by what they are _doing_, by what teachers are\nteaching than by what learners are learning. If you take your stand in\nthe realm of words, of doctrines, of theories, of philosophies, of\nbooks, preachings, and uttered ideals, you might make out a strong case\nfor a high degree of moral progress actually attained. But if you ask\nhow much of this has been learnt by mankind at large, and learnt in such\na way as to issue in practice, you get a different story. We have\nattached too much importance to the first story and too little to the\nsecond. There has been a great deal of false emphasis in consequence.\nThis false emphasis is especially prominent in the education controversy\nwhich is now going on--and the question of moral progress, by the way,\nis the question of education in the widest and highest sense of the\nterm. People seem quite content so long as they can get the right thing\ntaught. They don't always see that unless the right thing is taught by\nthe right people and in the right way it will not be _learnt_. Now\neducation is ultimately a question of what is being _learnt_, not of\nwhat is being _taught_. The process of learning is a very curious and\ncomplicated one, and it often happens that what goes in at the teacher's\nend comes out at the pupil's end in a wholly different form and with a\nwholly different value; and we have the highest authority for believing\nthat what really counts is not so much that which goeth into a man but\nthat which cometh out of him. That applies to all education--especially\nmoral education. So that if you argue from what has gone into the human\nrace in the way of moral teaching you may be greatly surprised and\nperhaps disappointed when you compare it with what has come out of the\nhuman race in the meantime. What has been taught is not what has been\nlearnt. It has suffered a sea change in the process. Nor is the question\nwholly one of learning. There is the further question of remembering. I\nbelieve that a candid examination of the facts would convince us that\nthe human race has proved itself a forgetful pupil. It has not always\nretained what it has learnt. Emerson has said that no account of the\nHoly Ghost has been lost. But how did Emerson find that out? The only\naccents Emerson knew of were those which the world happened to have\nremembered. If any had been lost in the meantime Emerson naturally would\nnot know of their existence. I have heard of a functionary, whose\nprecise office I am not able to define, called 'the Lord's\nRemembrancer'. It would be a great help to Moral Progress if we had in\nmodern life a People's Remembrancer. His place is occupied to some\nextent by the study of history, and for that reason one could wish for\nthe sake of Moral Progress that the study of history were universal. For\nmy own part I seldom open a book of history without recovering what for\nme is a lost account of the Holy Ghost. Next to conceit I reckon\nforgetfulness as the greatest enemy of Moral Progress. I suppose Rudyard\nKipling had something of this in mind when he wrote his poem--\n\n    Lord God of Hosts be with us yet,\n    Lest we forget, lest we forget.\n\nAnother cause of our over-estimate of Moral Progress is that we have\nthought too much of the abstract State and too little of the actual\nStates now in being. Our devotion to 'the' State as an ideal has led us\nto overlook the fact that many actual States represent a form of\nmorality so low that it is doubtful if it can be called morality at all.\nIn their relations _with one another_ they display qualities which would\ndisgrace the brutes. And the worst of it is that at times these States\ndrag down to their own low level the morality of the individuals\nbelonging to them. Thus at the present moment we see quite decent\nEnglishmen and quite decent Germans tearing one another to pieces like\nmad dogs, a thing they would never dream of doing as between man and\nman, and which they do only because they are in the grip of forces alien\nto their own nature. We have overestimated Progress by thinking only of\nwhat is happening inside each of the States. We have forgotten to\nconsider the bearing of the States to one another, which remains on a\nlevel lower than that of individuals.\n\nThe impression has gone abroad that the nations of the world need to\ntake _only one step_ from the position where they now stand to\naccomplish the final unity of all mankind. Taking any one of these\nnations--our own for example--we can trace the steps by which the\nwarring elements within it have become reconciled, until finally there\nhas emerged that vast unitary corporation--the British Empire. So with\nall the others. What more is required therefore than one step further in\nthe same direction, to join up all the States into a single world State.\nBut I am bound to think we are too hasty in treating the unity of\nmankind as needing only one step more. It is not so easy as all that.\nWhen you study the process by which unity has been brought about in the\nvarious European communities you find that motives of conquest and\ncorresponding motives of defence have had a great deal to do with it.\nGermany, for example, was built up and now holds together as a fighting\nunit. Whether Germany and the other States would still maintain their\ncohesion when they were no longer fighting units, and when the motives\nof conquest and defence were no longer in operation, is a question on\nwhich I should not like to dogmatize either way. Certainly we have no\nright to assume offhand that the unifying process which has given the\nnations the mass cohesion and efficiency they require for holding their\nown against enemy States would still remain in full power when there\nwere no longer any enemy States to be considered.\n\nBut what do we mean by Progress?\n\nProgress may be defined as that process by which a thing advances from a\nless to a more complete state of itself. Now whether this process is a\ndesirable one or not obviously depends on the nature of the thing which\nis progressing. Take the largest and most inclusive of all things--the\nwhole world. And now suppose philosophy to have proved that the world,\nthe whole world, is advancing from a less to a more complete state of\nitself--which as a matter of fact is what the doctrine of evolution\nclaims to have proved. Ought I to rejoice in this discovery? Will it\ngive me satisfaction? That clearly depends on the nature of the world.\nIf I am antecedently assured that the world is good, I shall naturally\nrejoice on hearing that it is advancing from a less to a more complete\nstate of itself. But if the nature of the world is evil, what reason can\nI possibly have for rejoicing in its evolution? Assuming the world to be\nevil in its essential nature, I for my part, if I were consulted in the\nmatter, would certainly give my vote against its being allowed to\nadvance from a less to a more complete state of itself. The less such a\nworld progresses the easier it will be for moral beings to live in it.\nOur interest lies in its remaining as undeveloped as possible.\n\nObvious as this seems there are some evolutionists who take a rather\ndifferent view. They seem to think that any sort of world, no matter\nwhat its nature might be, would ultimately become a good world if it\nwere allowed to develop its nature far enough. It is just the fact of\nits continually becoming more of itself that makes it good. But this\nwould compel us to abandon our definition that progress is the advance\nof a thing from a less to a more complete state of _itself_. For if\nitself were a bad self to begin with all such advance of _itself_ would\nonly make it worse. It is possible that an essentially bad man like Iago\nmight be converted into a good one, but not by advancing from a less to\na more complete state of _himself_ as he originally was--unless indeed\nwe change the hypothesis and suppose that he was not essentially bad to\nbegin with. So with the world at large. Our nature being what it is,\nnamely moral, we must first be convinced that the world is in principle\ngood before we can derive the least satisfaction from knowing that it is\nadvancing from a less to a more complete state of _itself_. The\nalternative doctrine makes a breach in the doctrine of progress which is\ninconsistent with its original form. A thing develops by retaining its\nessential nature--that is the original form. But a bad world which\ndevelops into a good one doesn't retain its essential nature. There\ncomes a point somewhere when the next step of progress can be achieved\nonly by the thing dropping its original nature--a point at which the\nthing is no longer becoming more of its former self, which was bad, but\nis ceasing to be its former self altogether and becoming something else,\nwhich is good.\n\nLet us apply this to progress in three specific directions--Science, the\nMechanical Arts, and Government.\n\nWe find that the progress of science has enormously increased man's\npower over the forces of nature. Is it a good thing that man's power\nover the forces of nature should be increased? That surely depends on\nthe manner in which this power is used, and this depends again on the\nmoral nature of man. When we observe, as we may truly observe,\nespecially at the present time, that of all the single applications\nwhich man has made of science, the most extensive and perhaps the most\nefficient is that of devising implements for destroying his brother man,\nit is at least permissible to raise the question whether the progress of\nscience has contributed on the whole to the progress of humanity. Had it\nnot been for the progress of science, which has enormously increased the\nwealth of the world, it is doubtful if this war, which is mainly a war\nabout wealth, would have taken place at all. Or if a war had broken out,\nit would not have involved the appalling destruction of human life and\nproperty we are now witnessing--such that, within a space of two years,\nabout six million human beings have been killed, thirty-five millions\nwounded, and wealth destroyed to the extent of about fifteen thousand\nmillions sterling--though some say it is very much more. Science taught\nus to make this wealth: science has also taught us how to destroy it.\nWhen one thinks of how much of this is attributable to the progress of\nscience, I say it is _permissible to raise the question_ whether man is\na being who can safely be entrusted with that control over the forces of\nnature which science gives him. What if he uses this power, as he\nplainly can do, for his own undoing? To ask this, as we can hardly help\nasking, is to transfer the question of scientific progress into the\nsphere of morality. It is conceivable that the progress of science might\ninvolve for us no progress at all. It might be, and some have feared\nthat it may become, a step towards the self-destruction of the human\nrace.\n\nTake the mechanical arts. The chief effects of progress in the\nmechanical arts have been an enormous increase in the material wealth\nof mankind, and, partly consequent upon this, a parallel growth of\npopulation in the industrial countries of the world. It is by no means\nclear that either of these things constitutes a definite step in human\nprogress. Consider the growth of population--the immense increase in the\ntotal bulk and volume of the human race. Whether this constitutes a\nclear gain to humanity obviously cannot be answered without reference to\nmoral considerations. To increase the arithmetical quantity of life in\nthe world can be counted a gain only if the general tendencies of life\nare in the right direction. If they are in the wrong direction, then the\nmore lives there are to yield to these tendencies the less reason has\nthe moralist to be satisfied with what is happening. No one, so far as I\nknow, has ever seriously maintained that the end and aim of progress is\nto increase the number of human beings up to the limit which the planet\nis able to support; though some doctrines if pressed to their conclusion\nwould lead to that, notably the doctrine that all morality rests\nultimately on the instinct for the preservation and the reproduction of\nlife. We have first to be convinced that the human race is not on the\nwrong road before we can look with complacency on the increase of its\nnumbers. We may note in this connexion that mankind possesses no sort of\ncollective control over its own mass or volume. The mass or total number\nof lives involved is determined by forces which are not subject to the\nunitary direction of any existing human will either individual or\ncollective. This applies not only to the human race as a whole, but to\nparticular communities. Their growth is unregulated. They just come to\nbe what they are in point of size. This fact seems to me a very\nimportant one to bear in mind when we talk of the progress of science\ngiving us control over the forces of nature. So far no state, no\ngovernment, no community has won any effective control over that group\nof the forces of nature which determine the total size of the community\nin question. It is an aspect of human destiny which appears to be left\nto chance; and yet when we consider what it means, is there any aspect\nof human destiny on which such tremendous consequences depend? And ought\nwe not to consider this before claiming, as we so often claim, that the\nprogress of science has given us control of the forces of nature? It is\nstrange that this point has not been more considered, especially by\nthinkers who are fond of the word 'humanity'--'the good of humanity'--or\nthe 'greatest happiness of the greatest number'. Humanity has an\narithmetical or quantitative side, and the good of humanity surely\ndepends, to some extent, on how much humanity there is. I can imagine\nmany things which might be good for a Greek city state of 10,000 souls\nwhich would not be good, or not good in the same sense, for a community\nof 100,000,000 souls. Surely it needs no reasoning to prove that our\npower to do our duty to others is affected by the number of others to\nwhom duty has to be done--it makes a difference where there are 10,000\nof men or 100,000,000. Similarly with the greatest happiness of the\ngreatest number. What is the _greatest_ number? A great deal that has\nbeen said about this would not have been said if we had considered that\nthe _greatest number_ itself is left at the disposal of forces outside\nthe present scope of our own will. Even the proposal to sell our goods\nand give the proceeds to the poor would surely be affected, from the\nmoral point of view, by the number of the poor who were to receive the\ndistribution. Were this so small that the poor would get five pounds\napiece it would be one question; were it so large that they would\nreceive a halfpenny apiece it would be another question. Thus we may\nconclude that the progress of the mechanical arts with the consequent\nincrease in the bulk of the human race has not solved the problem of\nmoral progress, but only placed that problem in a new and more\nperplexing context. A similar conclusion would meet us if we were to\nconsider the parallel increase of the wealth of the world. The moral\nquestion is not about the amount of wealth the world possesses, but\nabout the way men spend it and the use they make of it. Industrially\nspeaking, the human race has made its fortune during the last hundred\nyears. But has it made up its mind what to do with the fortune? And has\nits mind been made up in the right way? To raise these questions is to\nsee that progress from the economic point of view may be the reverse of\nprogress from the moral. But I shall not further enlarge upon this--the\ntheme being too familiar.\n\nThe third question which relates itself to moral progress is that of\nGovernment. Now Government, I need hardly say, is not an end in itself.\nIt is a device which man has set up to help him in attaining the true\nend of his life. To make up our minds how we ought to be governed is\ntherefore impossible unless we have previously made up our minds how we\nought to live. What might be a good government for a people whose end is\nindustrial success might be a very bad one for a people who had some\nother end in view. Well, then, are we well governed at the present time?\nAre we better governed than we were? Has progress taken place in this\ndepartment? Plainly we cannot answer these questions unless we have\nchosen our end in life and are morally satisfied with it. In the history\nof modern states we discover a tendency, more strongly marked in some\nquarters than in others, towards that form of democracy which is called\nresponsible self-government. Government of the people, for the people,\nby the people. The people are going to govern themselves. But they may\ndo so in a thousand different ways--each of which has a different moral\nvalue. A people may go wrong just as fatally in governing itself as in\nbeing governed by some external authority. I confess that nothing I can\nlearn from the history of government entirely reassures me on this\npoint. I see everywhere progress towards organization, but then one is\nbound to ask on what ulterior end is this organization directed? I see\neverywhere a growing subordination of the individual to the State. This\nmay or may not be a very good thing. What _kind of State_ is it to which\nthe individual is becoming subordinated? There are great differences\namong them--some seem to me, one in particular at the present time,\nthoroughly bad, and I cannot see that the individual gains morally by\nbeing subordinated to such a State--at least if he gains in one\ndirection he loses more in another.\n\nEven the social unity which Governments are capable of achieving must\nnot be too hastily translated into moral progress. We are entitled to\nask several questions before the one can be equated with the other. To\nbegin with, do men know what they want to achieve by their unified life?\nAnd if they do know what they want, have we not still the right to\ncriticize its moral value and say 'this is right' or this is wrong?\nShould the time ever come when the common will of mankind should get\nitself expressed by the decrees of a universal democracy, would moral\ncriticism be at an end so far as the said decrees were concerned? For my\npart I cannot see that it would. Perhaps it were truer to say that only\nthen would moral criticism effectively begin. As things now are, we are\nprevented from criticizing the common will because none of us knows what\nexactly the common will demands. But if it could get itself expressed\nand defined by the decrees of a perfect democracy we should know. Those\ndecrees would reveal the human community to itself, and it is possible\nthat the revelation would not be altogether agreeable to our moral\nsense. We might then discover that the common will is capable of being\ngrossly immoral. So far it has been impossible for us to make this\ndiscovery because no organ exists for expressing the common will on the\nhuman scale, and even those which express it on the national scale are\nnot perfect. I am far from saying the discovery would be made; but I\nknow of no line of argument which rules it out as impossible. Meanwhile\nwe are scarcely justified in regarding the common will as necessarily\nmoral until we know more than we do of what precisely it is that the\ncommon will aims at and intends to achieve. To back the common will\nthrough thick and thin, as some of our philosophers seem disposed to do,\nis a dangerous speculation--it might perhaps be described as putting\nyour money on a dark horse.\n\nThis leads me to say a word concerning a phrase which has been much in\nuse of late--the Collective Wisdom of Mankind, or the Collective Wisdom\nof the State. Progress is sometimes defined as a gradual approach to a\nstate of things where this collective wisdom rules the course of events.\nAnd collective wisdom is sometimes represented as vastly wiser than that\npossessed by any individual, even the wisest.\n\nNow if this really is so it seems pretty obvious that, when the\ncollective wisdom speaks, no individual can have the right of appeal.\nWhat are you, what am I, that either of us should set up our private\nintelligence against the intelligence of forty million of our fellow\ncitizens? That surely would be a preposterous claim. The collective\nwisdom must know best: at least it knows much better than you or I.\n\nBut is the collective wisdom of the State so immensely superior to that\nof the individual, and of necessity so? Have we any means of bringing\nthe matter to the test? It is extremely difficult to do so. Not until\nwe make the experiment do we find how rare are the occasions of which we\ncan say that then and there the collective wisdom of the community\nfairly and fully expressed itself. Acts of Parliament are not good\nexamples. They usually represent not the collective wisdom of the whole\ncommunity, but the wisdom of the majority after it has been checked,\nmodified, and perhaps nullified by the opposing wisdom of an almost\nequal minority. Take as an example the history of the Irish Question.\nHow difficult it is to put one's finger on any moment in that tangled\nstory and say that then and there the collective wisdom of the community\nknew what it wanted to do and did it! So with almost everything else.\n\nNow if there be such a thing as the collective wisdom of the State I\nsuppose that the moment when we are most likely to find it in action is\nthe moment when one State has dealings with another State. That surely\nis a fair test. If States possess collective wisdom they ought to show\nits existence and measure when they confront one another _as\nStates_--when State calls to State across the great deeps of\ninternational policy. What should we say of any State which claimed\ncollective wisdom only when dealing with its own individual\nmembers--with you and me--but dropped the claim when the question was\none of reasonable intercourse with another State similarly endowed? This\nwe should say is a very dubious claim.\n\nWell, how stands the matter when this test is applied? The present war\nprovides the answer. The war arose out of a type of quarrel which, had\nit occurred between half a dozen individuals of average intelligence,\nwould have been amicably settled, by reasonable human intercourse, in\ntwenty minutes. Does not this afford a rough measure of the collective\nwisdom of such States as at present exist in this world? Does it not\nsuggest that they have little faculty of reasonable intercourse with\none another? And when you say _that_ of any being, or any collection of\nbeings, do you not put it pretty low down in the scale of intelligence?\nIt is literally true that these States do not understand one another.\nThus we are driven back upon a plain alternative; either the States do\nnot represent collective wisdom, or else this collective wisdom is one\nof the lowest forms of wisdom now extant on this planet. In either case\nwe must be very cautious in our use of the phrase. We must not infer\nmoral progress from the reign of collective wisdom until we are assured\nthat collective wisdom is really as wise as some of its devotees assume\nit to be.\n\nAbout the idea of moral progress, which is only another name for the\nidea of progress in its widest form, I need say little, the question\nhaving been adequately treated by other lecturers. But I will add this.\nBelief in moral progress is a belief which no man can live without, and,\nat the same time, a belief which cannot be proved by any appeal to human\nexperience. We cannot live without it, because life is just the process\nof reaching forward to a better form of itself. Were a man to say that\nsince the world began no moral progress has taken place he would thereby\nshow his latent belief in moral progress. For no man would take the\ntrouble to deny moral progress unless he believed that the world would\nin some way be made better by his denial. He would not even trouble to\ncome to a private conclusion in the matter unless he believed that his\nprivate conclusion was something to the good. In that sense perhaps we\nmay say that moral progress is proved, for the best proof of any belief\nis that it remains indispensable to the life we have to live. But the\nappeal to experience would not prove it--and for this reason. A\nprogressive world is a world which not only makes gains, but _keeps_ its\ngains when they are made. If the Kingdom of Heaven were to become a\nfact to-morrow, that of itself would not prove progress, if you admit\nthe possibility that the world might hereafter retreat from the position\nit had won. That possibility you could never rule out--except by an\nappeal to faith. A world which attained the goal and then lost it would\nbe a greater failure, from the point of view of moral progress, than one\nwhich never attained the goal at all. The doctrine that the gains of\nmorality can never be lost is widely held; but it does not rest on a\nphilosophic or a scientific basis. As Hume taught long ago, you cannot\ninfer an infinite conclusion from finite data--and in this case the\nconclusion is infinite and the data are finite. They are not only finite\nbut various: some pointing one way, some another.\n\nFinally we cannot prove moral progress by appeal to any objective\nstandard, such as the amount of happiness existing in the world at\nsuccessive dates. Suppose you were able to show that, up to date, the\namount of happiness in the world has shown a steady increase until it\nhas reached the grand sum total now existing. Now suppose that you were\ntransferred to another planet where the conditions were the exact\nopposite: where the inhabitants ages ago started with the happiness we\nnow possess, and gradually declined until, at the present moment, they\nare no happier than the human race was at the first stage of its career.\nNow add together the totals of happiness for both your worlds, the\nascending world which starts with the minimum and ends with the maximum,\nthe declining world which starts with the maximum and ends with the\nminimum. The grand totals in both cases are exactly the same. So far as\nthe total result is concerned, the declining world has just as much to\nshow for itself as the ascending. Valued in terms of happiness, the one\nworld would be worth as much as the other.\n\nAnd yet we know that the value of these two worlds is not the same. The\nascending is worth a lot more than the descending. Why? I leave you with\nthat conundrum. Answer it, and you have the key to the meaning of Moral\nProgress.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nT. H. Green, _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Book III, ch. 3.\n\nLecky, _History of European Morals_, ch. 1.\n\nSpencer, _Data of Ethics_, ch. 13 to 14.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nPROGRESS IN GOVERNMENT\n\nA. E. ZIMMERN\n\n\nWhen I was asked to speak to you on the subject of Progress in\nGovernment I gladly accepted, for it is a subject on which I have\nreflected a good deal. But when I came to think over what I should say,\nI saw that you had asked me for the impossible. For what is Government?\nI do not know whether there are any here for whom Government means no\nmore than a policeman, or a ballot-box, or a list of office-holders. The\ndays of such shallow views are surely over. Government is the work of\nordering the external affairs and relationships of men. It covers all\nthe activities of men as members of a community--social, industrial, and\nreligious as well as political in the narrower sense. It is concerned,\nas the ancients had it, with 'that which is public or common', what the\nGreeks called [Greek: to koinon] and the Romans _res publica_. The Old\nEnglish translation of these classical terms is 'The Commonwealth' or\nCommon Weal; and I do not see that we can do better than adopt that\nword, with its richness of traditional meaning and its happy association\nof the two conceptions, too often separated in modern minds, of Wealth\nand Welfare.\n\nOur subject then is the Progress of the Commonwealth or, in other words,\nthe record of the course of the common life of mankind in the world. It\nis a theme which really underlies all the other subjects of discussion\nat this week's meetings: for it is only the existence of the\nCommonwealth and its organized efforts to preserve and sustain the life\nof the individuals composing it, which have made possible the\nachievements of mankind in the various separate fields of effort which\nare claiming your attention. Lord Acton spent a lifetime collecting\nmaterial for a History of Liberty. He never wrote it: but, if he had, it\nwould have been a History of Mankind. A History of Government or of the\nCommonwealth would be nothing less. Such is the nature of the invitation\nso kindly given to me and so cheerfully accepted. If you could wait a\nlifetime for the proper treatment of the subject I would gladly give the\ntime; for, in truth, it is worth it.\n\nWhat is the nature of this common life of mankind and with what is it\nconcerned? The subjects of its concern are as wide as human nature\nitself. We cannot define them in a formula: for human nature overleaps\nall formulas. Whenever men have tried to rule regions of human activity\nand aspiration out of the common life of mankind, and to hedge them\nround as private or separate or sacred or by any other kind of taboo,\nhuman nature has always ended by breaking through the hedges and\ninvading the retreat. Man is a social animal. If he retires to a\nmonastery he finds he has carried problems of organization with him, as\nthe promoters of this gathering would confess you have brought with you\nhere. If he shuts himself up in his home as a castle, or in a workshop\nor factory as the domain of his own private power, social problems go\nwith him thither, and the long arm of the law will follow after. If he\ncrosses the seas like the Pilgrim Fathers, to worship God unmolested in\na new country, or, like the merchant-venturers, to fetch home treasure\nfrom the Indies, he will find himself unwittingly the pioneer of\ncivilization and the founder of an Empire or a Republic. In the life of\nour fellows, in the Common Weal, we live and move and have our being.\nLet us recall some wise words on this subject from the Master of\nBalliol's book on the Middle Ages. 'The words \"Church\" and \"State\"', he\nwrites,\n\n     represent what ought to be an alliance, but is, in modern\n     times, at best a dualism and often an open warfare.... The\n     opposition of Church and State expresses an opposition\n     between two sides of human nature which we must not too\n     easily label as good and evil, the heavenly and the earthly,\n     the sacred and the profane. For the State, too, is divine as\n     well as the Church, and may have its own ideals and\n     sacramental duties and its own prophets, even its own\n     martyrs. The opposition of Church and State is to be\n     regarded rather as the pursuit of one great aim, pursued by\n     contrasted means. The ultimate aim of all true human\n     activity must be in the noble words of Francis Bacon 'the\n     glory of God and the relief of man's estate'.[53]\n\nBacon's words form a fitting starting-point for our reflections: for\nthey bring vividly before us both the idealism which should inspire all\nwho labour at the task of government and the vastness and variety of the\nfield with which they are concerned. Looked at in this broad light, the\nhistory of man's common life in the world will, I think, show two great\nstreams of progress--the progress of man over Nature, or, as we say\nto-day, in the control of his environment, and the progress of man in\nwhat is essentially a moral task--the art of living together with his\nfellows. These two aspects of human activity and effort are in constant\ncontact and interaction. Studied together, they reveal an advance which,\nin spite of man's ever-present moral weakness, may be described as an\nadvance from Chaos to Cosmos in the organization of the world's common\nlife; yet they are so distinct in method and spirit that they can best\nbe described separately.\n\nLet us first, then, consider the history of Government, as a record of\nthe progress of man's power over Nature.\n\nHuman history, in this sphere, is the story of man making himself at\nhome in the world. When human history begins we find men helpless,\nsuperstitious, ignorant, the plaything of blind powers in the natural\nand animal world. Superstitious because he was helpless, helpless\nbecause he was ignorant, he eked out a bare existence rather by avoiding\nthan controlling the forces in the little world by which he found\nhimself surrounded. Human life in its earliest stages is, as Hobbes\ndescribed it, nasty, brutish, and short. Man was the slave of his\nenvironment. He has risen to become its master. The world, as the\nprophetic eye of Francis Bacon foretold, has become 'The Kingdom of\nMan'.\n\nHow complete this conquest is, can best be realized perhaps by\nconsidering man's relation to the lower animals. When history opens, the\nanimals are in their element; it is man who is the interloper. Two\nthousand years ago it was not the Society of Friends but wolves and wild\nboars who felt themselves at home on the site of Bournville Garden\nVillage. To-day we are surprised when we read that in remote East Africa\nlions and giraffes venture occasionally to interfere in the murderous\nwarfare between man and man. Man has imposed himself on the animals, by\ndint of his gradual accumulation of knowledge and his consequent power\nof organization and government. He has destroyed the conditions under\nwhich the animals prospered. He has, as we might say, destroyed their\nhome life, exposing them to dangers of his own making against which they\nare now as powerless as he was once against them. 'It is a remarkable\nthing,' writes Sir E. Ray Lankester,\n\n     which possibly may be less generally true than our present\n     knowledge seems to suggest--that the adjustment of organisms\n     to their surroundings is so severely complete in Nature\n     apart from Man, that diseases are unknown as constant and\n     normal phenomena under those conditions. It is no doubt\n     difficult to investigate this matter, since the presence of\n     Man as an observer itself implies human intervention. But it\n     seems to be a legitimate view that every disease to which\n     animals (and probably plants also) are liable, excepting as\n     a transient and very exceptional occurrence, is due to Man's\n     interference. The diseases of cattle, sheep, pigs, and\n     horses are not known except in domesticated herds and those\n     wild creatures to which Man's domesticated productions have\n     communicated them. The trypanosome lives in the blood of\n     wild game and of rats without producing mischief. The hosts\n     have become tolerant of the parasite. It is only when man\n     brings his unselected, humanly-nurtured races of cattle and\n     horses into contact with the parasite, that it is found to\n     have deadly properties. The various cattle-diseases which in\n     Africa have done so much harm to native cattle, and have in\n     some regions exterminated big game, have _per contra_ been\n     introduced by man through his importation of diseased\n     animals of his own breeding from Europe. Most, if not all,\n     animals in extra-human conditions, including the minuter\n     things such as insects, shellfish, and invisible aquatic\n     organisms, have been brought into a condition of\n     'adjustment' to their parasites as well as to the other\n     conditions in which they live: it is this most difficult and\n     efficient balance of Nature which Man everywhere upsets.[54]\n\nAnd Sir E. Ray Lankester goes on to point out the moral to be drawn from\nthis development. He points out that\n\n     civilized man has proceeded so far in his interference with\n     extra-human nature, has produced for himself and the living\n     organisms associated with him such a special state of things\n     by his rebellion against natural selection and his defiance\n     of Nature's pre-human dispositions, that he must either go\n     on and acquire firmer control of the conditions, or perish\n     miserably by the vengeance certain to fall on the\n     half-hearted meddler in great affairs. We may indeed compare\n     civilized man to a successful rebel against Nature, who, by\n     every step forward, renders himself liable to greater and\n     greater penalties, and so cannot afford to pause or fail in\n     one single step. Or again we may think of him as the heir to\n     a vast and magnificent kingdom, who has been finally\n     educated so as to take possession of his property, and is at\n     length left alone to do his best; he has wilfully abrogated,\n     in many important respects, the laws of his mother Nature by\n     which the kingdom was hitherto governed; he has gained some\n     power and advantage by so doing, but is threatened on every\n     hand by dangers and disasters hitherto restrained: no\n     retreat is possible--his only hope is to control, as he\n     knows that he can, the sources of these dangers and\n     disasters.\n\nThe time will come, not too long hence, as I believe, when men have\nrealized, with the scientists, that the world is one kingdom not many,\nand these problems of man's relation to his non-human environment will\nbe the first concern of statesmen and governors. In some of our tropical\ncolonies they have, perforce, become so already. If you live on the Gold\nCoast, the war against malaria cannot help seeming more important to you\nthan the war against German trade: and in parts of Central Africa the\nwhole possibility of continued existence centres round the presence or\nabsence of the tsetse fly which is the carrier of sleeping sickness.\nSome day, when means have been adopted for abating our fiercer\ninternational controversies, we shall discover that in these and kindred\nmatters lies the real province of world-politics. When that day comes\nthe chosen representatives of the human race will see their\nconstituents, as only philosophers see them now, as the inheritors of a\ngreat tradition of service and achievement, and as trustees for their\nsuccessors of the manifold sources of human happiness which the advance\nof knowledge has laid open to us.\n\nIf the first and most important of these sources is the discovery of\nthe conditions of physical well-being, the second is the discovery of\nmeans of communication between the widely separate portions of man's\nkingdom. The record of the process of bringing the world under the\ncontrol of the organized government of man is largely the record of the\nimprovement of communications. Side by side with the unending struggle\nof human reason against cold and hunger and disease we can watch the\ncontest against distance, against ocean and mountain and desert, against\nstorms and seasons. There can be few subjects more fascinating for a\nhistorian to study than the record of the migrations of the tribes of\nmen. He might begin, if he wished, with the migrations of animals and\ndescribe the westward progress of the many species whose course can be\ntraced by experts along the natural highways of Western Europe. Some of\nthem, so the books tell us, reached the end of their journey while\nBritain was still joined to the continent. Others arrived too late and\nwere cut off by the straits of Dover. I like to form an imaginary\npicture, which the austerity of the scientific conscience will, I know,\nrepudiate with horror, of the unhappy congregation, mournfully assembled\nbag and baggage on the edge of the straits and gazing wistfully across\nat the white cliffs of England, which they were not privileged to\nreach--_tendentesque manus ripae ulterioris amore_, 'stretching out\ntheir paws in longing for the further bank.'\n\nOur historian would then go on to describe the early 'wanderings of\npeoples' (_Voelkerwanderungen_) how whole tribes would move off in the\nspring-time in the search for fresh hunting-grounds or pasture. He would\ntrace the course of that westward push which, starting from somewhere in\nAsia, brought its impact to bear on the northern provinces of the Roman\nEmpire and eventually loosened its whole fabric. He would show how\nEurope, as we know it, was welded into unity by the attacks of\nmigratory warriors on three flanks--the Huns and the Tartars, a host of\nhorsemen riding light over the steppes of Russia and Hungary: the Arabs,\nbearing Islam with them on their camels as they moved westward along\nNorth Africa and then pushing across into Spain: and the Northmen of\nScandinavia, those carvers of kingdoms and earliest conquerors of the\nopen sea, who left their mark on England and northern France, on Sicily\nand southern Italy, on the Balkan Peninsula, on Russia, on Greenland,\nand as far as North America. Then, passing to Africa and Asia, he would\ndescribe the life of the pack-saddle and the caravan, the long and\nmysterious inland routes from the Mediterranean to Nubia and Nigeria, or\nfrom Damascus with the pilgrims to Medina, and the still longer and more\nmysterious passage through the ancient oases of Turkestan, now buried in\nsand, along which, as recent discoveries have shown us, Greece and\nChina, Christianity and Buddhism, exchanged their arts and ideas and\nproducts. Then he would tell of the great age of maritime discovery, of\nthe merchant-adventurers and buccaneers, of their gradual transformation\ninto trading companies, in the East and in the West, from companies to\nsettlements, from settlements to colonies. Then perhaps he would close\nby casting a glimpse at the latest human migration of all, that which\ntakes place or took place up to 1914, at the rate of a million a year\nfrom the Old World into the United States. He would take the reader to\nEllis Island in New York harbour, where the immigrants emerge from the\nsteerage to face the ordeal of the Immigration Officer. He would show\nhow the same causes, hunger, fear, persecution, restlessness, ambition,\nlove of liberty, which set the great westward procession in motion in\nthe early days of tribal migration, are still alive and at work to-day\namong the populations of Eastern Europe. He would look into their minds\nand read the story of the generations of their nameless fore-runners;\nand he would ask himself whether rulers and statesmen have done all that\nthey might to make the world a home for all its children, for the poor\nas for the rich, for the Jew as for the Gentile, for the yellow and\ndark-skinned as for the white.\n\nLet us dwell for a moment more closely on one phase of this record of\nthe conquest of distance. The crucial feature in that struggle was the\nconquest of the sea. The sea-surface of the world is far greater than\nits land-surface, and the sea, once subdued, is a far easier and more\nnatural means of transport and communication. For the sea, the\nuncultivable sea, as Homer calls it, is itself a road, whereas on earth,\nwhether it be mountain or desert or field, roads have first painfully to\nbe made. Man's definitive conquest of the sea dates from the middle of\nthe fifteenth century when, by improvements in the art of sailing and by\nthe extended use of the mariner's compass, it first became possible to\nundertake long voyages with assurance. These discoveries are associated\nwith the name of Prince Henry of Portugal, whose life-long ambition it\nwas, to quote the words engraved on his monument at the southern\nextremity of Portugal, 'to lay open the regions of West Africa across\nthe sea, hitherto not traversed by man, that thence a passage might be\nmade round Africa to the most distant parts of the East.'\n\nThe opening of the high seas which resulted from Prince Henry's\nactivities is one of the most momentous events in human history. Its\neffect was, sooner or later, to unite the scattered families of mankind,\nto make the problems of all the concern of all: to make the world one\nplace. Prince Henry and his sailors were, in fact, the pioneers of\ninternationalism, with all the many and varied problems that\ninternationalism brings with it. 'In 1486,' says the most recent history\nof this development,\n\n     Bartholomew Dias was carried by storm beyond the sight of\n     land, round the southern point of Africa, and reached the\n     Great Fish River, north of Algoa Bay. On his return journey\n     he saw the promontory which divides the oceans, as the\n     narrow waters of the Bosphorus divide the continents, of the\n     East and West. As in the crowded streets of Constantinople,\n     so here, if anywhere, at this awful and solitary headland\n     the elements of two hemispheres meet and contend. As Dias\n     saw it, so he named it, 'The Cape of Storms'. But his\n     master, John II, seeing in the discovery a promise that\n     India, the goal of the national ambition, would be reached,\n     named it with happier augury 'The Cape of Good Hope'. No\n     fitter name could have been given to that turning-point in\n     the history of mankind. Europe, in truth, was on the brink\n     of achievements destined to breach barriers, which had\n     enclosed and diversified the nations since the making of the\n     World, and commit them to an intercourse never to be broken\n     again so long as the World endures. That good rather than\n     evil may spring therefrom is the greatest of all human\n     responsibilities.[55]\n\nThe contrast between Constantinople and the Cape, so finely drawn in\nthese lines, marks the end of the age when land-communications and\nland-power were predominant over sea-power. The Roman Empire was, and\ncould only be, a land-power. It is no accident that the British\nCommonwealth is, as the American Commonwealth is fast becoming,\npredominantly a sea-power.\n\nHow was 'the greatest of all human responsibilities', arising from this\nnew intercourse of races, met? Knowledge, alas, is as much the devil's\nheritage as the angels': it may be used for ill, as easily as for good.\nThe first explorers, and the traders who followed them, were not\nidealists but rough adventurers. Breaking in, with the full tide of\nwestern knowledge and adaptability, to the quiet backwaters of primitive\nconservatism, they brought with them the worse rather than the better\nelements of the civilization, the control of environment, of which they\nwere pioneers. To them Africa and the East represented storehouses of\ntreasure, not societies of men; and they treated the helpless natives\naccordingly.\n\n     England and Holland as well as the Latin monarchies treated\n     the natives of Africa as chattels without rights and as\n     instruments for their own ends, and revived slavery in a\n     form and upon a scale more cruel than any practised by the\n     ancients. The employment of slaves on her own soil has\n     worked the permanent ruin of Portugal. The slave trade with\n     America was an important source of English wealth, and the\n     philosopher John Locke did not scruple to invest in it.\n     There is no European race which can afford to remember its\n     first contact with the subject peoples otherwise than with\n     shame, and attempts to assess their relative degrees of\n     guilt are as fruitless as they are invidious. The question\n     of real importance is how far these various states were able\n     to purge themselves of the poison, and rise to a higher\n     realization of their duty towards their races whom they were\n     called by the claims of their own superior civilization to\n     protect. The fate of that civilization itself hung upon the\n     issue.[56]\n\nThe process by which the Western peoples have risen to a sense of their\nduty towards their weaker and more ignorant fellow citizens is indeed\none of the chief stages in that progress of the common life of mankind\nwith which we are concerned.\n\nHow is that duty to be exercised? The best way in which the strong can\nhelp the weak is by making them strong enough to help themselves. The\nwhite races are not strong because they are white, or virtuous because\nthey are strong. They are strong because they have acquired, through a\nlong course of thought and work, a mastery over Nature and hence over\ntheir weaker fellow men. It is not virtue but knowledge to which they\nowe their strength. No doubt much virtue has gone to the making of that\nknowledge--virtues of patience, concentration, perseverance,\nunselfishness, without which the great body of knowledge of which we are\nthe inheritors could never have been built up. But we late-born heirs of\nthe ages have it in our power to take the knowledge of our fathers and\ncast away any goodness that went to its making. We have come into our\nfortune: it is ours to use it as we think best. We cannot pass it on\nwholesale, and at one step, to the more ignorant races, for they have\nnot the institutions, the traditions, the habits of mind and character,\nto enable them to use it. Those too we must transmit or develop together\nwith the treasure of our knowledge. For the moment we stand in the\nrelation of trustees, teachers, guides, governors, but always in their\nown interest and not ours, or rather, in the interest of the\ncommonwealth of which we and they, since the opening of the high seas,\nform an inseparable part.\n\nIt has often been thought that the relation of the advanced and backward\nraces should be one purely of philanthropy and missionary enterprise\nrather than of law and government. It is easy to criticize this by\npointing to the facts of the world as we know it--to the existing\ncolonial empires of the Great Powers and to the vast extension of the\npowers of civilized governments which they represent. But it may still\nbe argued that the question is not Have the civilized powers annexed\nlarge empires? but Ought they to have done so? Was such an extension of\ngovernmental authority justifiable or inevitable? Englishmen in the\nnineteenth century, like Americans in the twentieth, were slow to admit\nthat it was; just as the exponents of _laissez-faire_ were slow to\nadmit the necessity for State interference with private industry at\nhome. But in both cases they have been driven to accept it by the\ninexorable logic of facts. What other solution of the problem, indeed,\nis possible? 'Every alternative solution', as a recent writer\nremarks,[57]\n\n     breaks down in practice. To stand aside and do nothing under\n     the plea that every people must be left free to manage its\n     own affairs, and that intervention is wicked, is to repeat\n     the tragic mistake of the Manchester School in the economic\n     world which protested against any interference by the State\n     to protect workmen ... from the oppression and rapacity of\n     employers, on the ground that it was an unwarranted\n     interference with the liberty of the subject and the freedom\n     of trade and competition. To prevent adventurers from\n     entering the territory is impossible, unless there is some\n     civilized authority within it to stop them through its\n     police. To shut off a backward people from all contact with\n     the outside world by a kind of blockade is not only\n     unpracticable, but is artificially to deny them the chances\n     of education and progress. The establishment of a genuine\n     government by a people strong enough and liberal enough to\n     ensure freedom under the law and justice for all is the only\n     solution.... They must undertake this duty, not from any\n     pride of dominion, or because they wish to exploit their\n     resources, but in order to protect them alike from\n     oppression and corruption, by strict laws and strict\n     administration, which shall bind the foreigner as well as\n     the native, and then they must gradually develop, by\n     education and example, the capacity in the natives to manage\n     their own affairs.\n\nThus we see that the progress in knowledge and in the control of their\nenvironment made by the civilized peoples has, in fact and inevitably,\nled to their leadership in government also, and given them the\npredominant voice in laying down the lines along which the common life\nof mankind is to develop. If we are to look for the mainspring of the\nworld's activities, for the place where its new ideas are thought out,\nits policies framed, its aspirations cast into practical shape, we must\nnot seek it in the forests of Africa or in the interior of China, but in\nthose busy regions of the earth's surface where the knowledge, the\nindustries, and all the various organizations of government and control\nfind their home. Because organization is embodied knowledge, and because\nknowledge is power, it is the Great Powers, as we truly name them,[58]\nwho are predominantly responsible for the government of the world and\nfor the future of the common life of mankind.\n\nIn the exercise of this control the world has already, in many respects,\nbecome a single organism. The conquest of distance in the fifteenth\ncentury was the beginning of a process which led, slowly but inevitably,\nto the widening of the boundaries of government. Two discoveries made\nabout the same time accentuated the same tendency. By the invention of\ngunpowder the people of Europe were given an overwhelming military\nsuperiority over the dwellers in other continents. By the invention of\nprinting, knowledge was internationalized for all who had the training\nto use it. Books are the tools of the brain-worker all the world over;\nbut, unlike the file and the chisel, the needle and the hammer, books\nnot only create, but suggest. A new idea is like an electric current set\nrunning throughout the world, and no man can say into what channels of\nactivity it may not be directed.\n\nBut neither travel nor conquest nor books and the spread of ideas caused\nso immense a transformation in the common life of mankind as the process\nbeginning at the end of the eighteenth century which is known to\nhistorians as the Industrial Revolution. As we have spoken of the\nconquest of distance perhaps a better name for the Industrial\nRevolution would be the Conquest of Organization. For it was not the\ndiscovery of the steam-engine or the spinning-jenny which constituted\nthe revolution: it was the fact that men were now in a position to apply\nthese discoveries to the organization of industry. The ancient Greeks\nplayed with the idea of the steam-engine: it was reserved for\neighteenth-century England to produce a generation of pioneers endowed\nwith the knowledge, the power, the foresight, and the imagination to\nmake use of the world-transforming potentialities of the idea. The\nIndustrial Revolution, with its railways and steamships, telegraphs and\ntelephones, and now its airships and submarines and wireless\ncommunication, completed the conquest of distance. Production became\nincreasingly organized on international lines. Men became familiar with\nthe idea of an international market. Prices and prospects, booms and\ndepressions, banking and borrowing, became international phenomena. The\norganization of production led to an immensely rapid increase of wealth\nin Western Europe. The application of that wealth to the development of\nthe world's resources in and outside Europe led to a correspondingly\nhuge advance in trade and intercourse. The breakfast-table in an\nordinary English home to-day is a monument to the achievements of the\nIndustrial Revolution and to the solid reality of the economic\ninternationalism which resulted from it. There is still poverty in\nWestern Europe, but it is preventable poverty. Before the Industrial\nRevolution, judged by a modern standard, there was nothing but poverty.\nThe satisfying physical and economic condition which we describe by the\nname of comfort did not exist. The Italian historian Ferrero, in one of\nhis essays, recommends those who have romantic yearnings after the good\nold times to spend one night on what our forefathers called a bed. Mr.\nCoulton, in his books on the Middle Ages, has used some very plain\nlanguage on the same text. And Professor Smart, in his recently\npublished posthumous work, pointing a gentle finger of rebuke at certain\ncommon Socialist fantasies, remarks:\n\n     There never was a golden age of equality of wealth: there\n     was rather a leaden one of inequality of poverty.... We\n     should speak more guardedly of the riches of the old world.\n     A careful examination of any old book would show that the\n     most splendid processions of pomp and luxury in the Middle\n     Ages were poor things compared to the parade of a modern\n     circus on its opening day.[59]\n\nSuch prosperity as we enjoy to-day, such a scene as we can observe on\nthese smiling outskirts of Birmingham, is due to man's Conquest of\nOrganization and to the consequent development and linking-up, by mutual\nintercourse and exchange, of the economic side of the world's life.\n\nSo far we have been watching the progress of man in his efforts to 'make\nhimself at home' in the world. We have seen him becoming more skilful\nand more masterful century by century, till in these latter days the\nwhole world is, as it were, at his service. He has planted his flag at\nthe two poles: he has cut a pathway for his ships between Asia and\nAfrica, and between the twin continents of America: he has harnessed\ntorrents and cataracts to his service: he has conquered the air and the\ndepths of the sea: he has tamed the animals: he has rooted out\npestilence and laid bare its hidden causes: and he is penetrating\nfarther and ever farther in the discovery of the causes of physical and\nmental disease. He has set his foot on the neck of Nature. But the last\nand greatest conquest is yet before him. He has yet to conquer himself.\nVictorious against Nature, men are still at war, nay, more than ever at\nwar, amongst themselves. How is it that the last century and a half,\nwhich have witnessed so unparalleled an advance in the organization of\nthe common life of man on the material side, should have been an age of\nwars and rumours of wars, culminating in the vastest and most\ndestructive conflict that this globe of ours has ever witnessed? What\nexplanation could we give of this to a visitor from the moon or to those\ncreatures of inferior species whom, as Sir E. Ray Lankester has told us,\nit is our function, thanks to our natural superiority, to command and\ncontrol?\n\nThis brings us to the second great branch of our subject--the progress\nof mankind in the art of living together in the world.\n\nGovernment, as we have seen, covers the whole social life of man: for\nthe principles that regulate human association are inherent in the\nnature of man. But in what follows we shall perforce confine ourselves\nmainly to the sphere of what is ordinarily called politics, that is to\nthe recognized and authoritative form of human association called the\nState, as opposed to the innumerable subordinate or voluntary bodies and\nrelationships, which pervade every department of man's common life.\n\nThe progress of Government in this second sphere may be defined as the\ndeepening and extension of man's duty towards his neighbour. It is to be\nreckoned, not in terms of knowledge and organization, but of character.\nThe ultimate goal of human government, in the narrower sense, as of all\nsocial activity--let us never forget it--is liberty, to set free the\nlife of the spirit. 'Liberty,' said Lord Acton, who could survey the\nages with a wealth of knowledge to which no other man, perhaps, ever\nattained, 'Liberty is not a means to a higher political end. It is\nitself the highest political end. It is not for the sake of a good\npublic administration that it is required but for security in the\npursuit of the highest objects of civil society and of private\nlife.'[60] Government is needed in order to enable human life to become,\nnot efficient or well-informed or well-ordered, but simply good; and\nLord Acton believed, as the Greeks and generations of Englishmen\nbelieved before him, that it is only in the soil of liberty that the\nhuman spirit can grow to its full stature, and that a political system\nbased upon any other principle than that of responsible self-government\nacts as a bar at the outset to the pursuit of what he called 'the\nhighest objects of civil society or of private life'. For though a\nslave, or a man living under a servile political system, may develop\nmany fine qualities of character: yet such virtues will, in Milton's\nwords, be but 'fugitive and cloistered', 'unexercised and unbreathed'.\nFor liberty, and the responsibilities that it involves, are the school\nof character and the appointed means by which men can best serve their\nneighbours. A man deprived of such opportunities, cut off from the\nquickening influence of responsibility, has, as Homer said long ago\n'lost half his manhood'. He may be a loyal subject, a brave soldier, a\ndiligent and obedient workman: but he will not be a full-grown man.\nGovernment will have starved and stunted him in that which it is the\nsupreme object of government to develop and set free.\n\nIt is idle, then, to talk in general terms about the extension of\ngovernment as a good thing, whether in relation to the individual\ncitizen or to the organization of the world into an international State.\nWe have always first to ask: What kind of Government? On what principles\nwill it be based? What ideal will it set forth? What kind of common life\nwill it provide or allow to its citizens? If the whole world were\norganized into one single State, and that State, supreme in its control\nover Nature, were armed with all the knowledge and organization that\nthe ablest and most farseeing brains in the world could supply, yet\nmankind might be worse off under its sway, in the real essentials of\nhuman life, than if they were painted savages. 'Though I have the gift\nof prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge: and though I\nhave all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity,\nI am nothing.' Government may be the organization of goodness, or the\norganization of evil. It may provide the conditions by which the common\nlife of society can develop along the lines of man's spiritual nature:\nor it may take away the very possibility of such a development. Till we\nknow what a Government stands for, do not let us judge it by its\nimposing externals of organization. The Persian Empire was more imposing\nthan the Republics of Greece: Assyria and Babylon than the little tribal\ndivisions of Palestine: the Spanish Empire than the cities of the\nNetherlands. There is some danger that, in our new-found sense of the\nvalue of knowledge in promoting happiness, we should forget what a\ntyrant knowledge, like wealth, can become. No doubt, just as we saw that\nmoral qualities, patience and the like, are needed for the advancement\nof knowledge, so knowledge is needed, and greatly needed, in the task of\nextending and deepening the moral and spiritual life of mankind. But we\ncannot measure that progress in terms of knowledge or organization or\nefficiency or culture. We need some other standard by which to judge\nbetween Greece and Persia, between Israel and Babylon, between Spain and\nthe Netherlands, between Napoleon and his adversaries, and between\ncontending powers in the modern world. What shall that standard be?\n\nIt must be a similar standard--let us boldly say it--to that by which we\njudge between individuals. It must be a standard based on our sense of\nright and wrong. But right and wrong in themselves will not carry us\nvery far, any more than they will carry the magistrate on the bench or\nthe merchant in his counting-house. Politics, like business, is not the\nwhole of life--though some party politicians and some business men think\notherwise--but a department of life: both are means, not ends; and as\nsuch they have developed special rules and codes of their own, based on\nexperience in their own special department. In so far as they are framed\nin accordance with man's spiritual nature and ideals these rules may be\nconsidered to hold good and to mark the stage of progress at which\nPolitics and Business have respectively arrived in promoting the common\nweal in their own special sphere. With the rules of business, or what is\ncalled Political Economy, we have at the moment no concern. It is the\nrules of politics, or the working experience of rulers, crystallized in\nwhat is called Political Science or Political Philosophy, to which we\nmust devote a few moments' attention.\n\nWe are all of us, of course, political philosophers. Whether we have\nvotes or not, whether we are aware of it or not, we all have views on\npolitical philosophy and we are all constantly making free use of its\nown peculiar principles and conceptions. Law, the State, Liberty,\nJustice, Democracy are words that are constantly on our lips. Let us try\nto form a clear idea of the place which these great historic ideals\noccupy in the progress of mankind.\n\nThe great political thinkers of the world have always been clear in\ntheir own minds as to the ultimate goal of their own particular study.\nPolitical thought may be said to have originated with the Jewish\nprophets, who were the first to rebuke kings to their faces and to set\nforth the spiritual aims of politics--to preach Righteousness and Mercy\nas against Power and Ambition and Self-interest. Their soaring\nimagination, less systematic than the Greek intellect, was wider in its\nsweep and more farseeing in its predictions. 'As the earth bringeth\nforth her bud and as the garden causeth the things sown in it to spring\nforth', says Isaiah, in magnificent anticipation of the doctrine of\nNatural Law, 'so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to\nspring forth before all the nations.' 'Peace, peace, to him that is far\noff, and to him that is near, saith the Lord, and I will heal him: but\nthe wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters\ncast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked.'\n'Out of Zion shall go forth the Law and the word of the Lord from\nJerusalem. And he shall judge between the nations and shall reprove many\npeoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their\nspears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against\nnation, neither shall they learn war any more.'[61]\n\nIt was, however, Plato and Aristotle who first made politics a branch of\nseparate study: and, unlike many of their modern successors, they\npursued it throughout in close connexion with the kindred studies of\nethics and psychology. Their scope was, of course, confined to the field\nof their own experience, the small self-contained City-States of Greece,\nand it did not fall within their province to foreshadow, like the Jewish\nProphets, the end of warfare, or to speculate on the ultimate unity of\nmankind. Their task was to interpret the work of their own\nfellow-countrymen on the narrow stage of Greek life. Their lasting\nachievement is to have laid down for mankind what a State is, as\ncompared with other forms of human association, and to have proclaimed,\nonce and for all, in set terms, that its object is to promote the 'good\nlife' of its members. 'Every State', says Aristotle in the opening\nwords of his _Politics_, 'is a community of some kind.' That is to say,\nStates belong to the same _genus_, as it were, as political parties,\ntrade unions, cricket clubs, business houses, or such gatherings as\nours. What, then, is the difference between a State and a political\nparty? 'If all communities', he goes on, 'aim at some good, the State or\npolitical community, which is the highest of all and which embraces all\nthe rest, aims, and in a greater degree than any other, at the highest\ngood.'\n\nWhy is the State the highest of all forms of association? Why should our\ncitizenship, for instance, take precedence of our trade unionism or our\nbusiness obligations? Aristotle replies, and in spite of recent critics\nI think the reply still holds good: because, but for the existence of\nthe State and the reign of law maintained by it, none of these\nassociations could have been formed or be maintained. 'He who first\nfounded the State was the greatest of benefactors. For man, when\nprotected, is the best of animals, but when separated from law and\nrighteousness, he is the worst of all.' Or, to put it in the resounding\nElizabethan English of Hooker: 'The public power of all societies is\nabove every soul contained in the same societies. And the principal use\nof that power is to give laws to all that are under it; which laws, in\nsuch case, we must obey, unless there be reason showed which may\nnecessarily enforce that the law of Reason or of God doth enjoin the\ncontrary. Because except our own private and probable resolutions be by\nthe law of public determinations overruled, we take away all possibility\nof social life in the world.'[62] The Greeks did not deny, as the\nexample of Socrates shows, the right of private judgement on the\nquestion of obedience to law, or the duty of respect for what Hooker\ncalls the Law of Reason or of God. Against the authentic voice of\nconscience no human authority can or should prevail. But Aristotle\nheld, with Hooker, that obedience to law and faithful citizenship are\nthemselves matters normally ordained by the law of Reason or of God and\nthat, as against those of any other association ([Greek: koinonia]), the\nclaims of the State are paramount. In other words, he would deny what is\nsometimes loosely called the _right_ of rebellion, whilst not closing\nthe door to that _duty_ of rebellion which has so often advanced the\ncause of liberty. When Aristotle speaks of the State, moreover, he does\nnot mean a sovereign authority exercising arbitrary power, as in Persia\nor Babylon: he means an authority administering Law and Justice\naccording to recognized standards: and he is thinking of Law and\nJustice, not simply as part of the apparatus of government but as based\nupon moral principles. 'Righteousness', he says, 'is the bond of men in\nStates and the administration of Justice, which is the determination of\nwhat is righteous, is the principle of order in political society.' 'Of\nLaw', says Hooker,[63] here as elsewhere echoing the ancients, 'there\ncan be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God, her\nvoice the harmony of the world.' The State takes precedence of the party\nor the trade union because, however idealistic in their policy these\nlatter may be, the State covers all, not merely a section of the\ncommunity, and is able not merely to proclaim but to enforce the rule of\nlaw and justice. Put in modern language, one might define the Greek idea\nof the State as the Organization of Mutual Aid.\n\nThe Greek States did not remain true to this high ideal. Faced with the\ntemptations of power they descended almost to the level of the oriental\nmonarchies with which they were contrasted. But even had they remained\nfaithful to their philosophers' ideal of public service they would not\nhave survived. Unable to transcend the limits of their own narrow\nState-boundaries and to merge their ideals with those of their\nneighbours, they were helpless in the face of the invader. First\nMacedonia and then Rome swept over them, and political idealism\nslumbered for many centuries. Rome gave the world, what it greatly\nneeded, centuries of peace and order and material prosperity: it built\nup an enduring fabric of law on principles of Reason and Humanity: it\ndid much to give men, what is next to the political sense, the social\nsense. It made men members of one another from Scotland to Syria and\nfrom Portugal to Baghdad. But it did not give them 'the good life' in\nits fullness: for it did not, perhaps it could not, give them liberty.\nFaced with the choice between efficiency and the diffusion of\nresponsibility, the rulers of the Roman Empire unhesitatingly chose\nefficiency. But the atrophy of responsibility proved the canker at the\nheart of the Empire. Deprived of the stimulus that freedom and the habit\nof responsibility alone can give, the Roman world sank gradually into\nthe morass of Routine. Life lost its savour and grew stale, flat and\nunprofitable, as in an old-style Government office. 'The intolerable\nsadness inseparable from such a life', says Renan, 'seemed worse than\ndeath.' And when the barbarians came and overturned the whole fabric of\nbureaucracy, though it seemed to educated men at the time the end of\ncivilization, it was in reality the beginning of a new life.\n\nAmid the wreckage of the Roman Empire, one governing institution alone\nremained upright--the Christian Church with its organization for\nministering to the spiritual needs of its members. With the conversion\nof the barbarians to Christianity the governing functions and influence\nof the Church became more and more important; and it was upon the basis\nof Church government that political idealism, so long in abeyance, was\nreawakened. The thinkers who took up the work of Plato and Aristotle on\nthe larger stage of the Holy Roman Empire boldly looked forward to the\ntime when mankind should be united under one government and that\ngovernment should embody the highest ideals of mankind. Such an ideal\nseemed indeed to many one of the legacies of the Founder of\nChristianity. The familiar petition in the Lord's Prayer: _thy kingdom\ncome, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven_ sounded, in the ears\nof Dante and Thomas Aquinas and innumerable theologians and canonists,\nas a prayer and a pledge for the ultimate political unity of mankind on\nthe basis of Christian Law. Such a belief was indeed the bedrock of\nmediaeval political thought. To devout Christians, brought up in the\noecumenical traditions of the Roman Empire,\n\n     'every ordering of a human community must appear as a\n     component part of that ordering of the world which exists\n     because God exists, and every earthly group must appear as\n     an organic member of that _Civitas Dei_, that God-State,\n     which comprehends the heavens and the earth.[1] ... Thus the\n     Theory of Human Society must accept the divinely created\n     organization of the Universe as a prototype of the first\n     principles which govern the construction of human\n     communities.... Therefore, in all centuries of the Middle\n     Age, Christendom, which in destiny is identical with\n     Mankind, is set before us as a single, universal Community,\n     founded and governed by God Himself. Mankind is one\n     \"mystical body\"; it is one single and internally connected\n     \"people\" or \"folk\"; it is an all-embracing corporation,\n     which constitutes that Universal Realm, spiritual and\n     temporal, which may be called the Universal Church, or, with\n     equal propriety, the Commonwealth of the Human Race.\n     Therefore, that it may attain its one purpose, it needs One\n     Law and One Government.'[64]\n\n\nBut the mediaeval ideal, like the Greek, broke down in practice. 'Where\nthe Middle Ages failed', says the Master of Balliol, continuing a\npassage already quoted, 'was in attempting ... to make politics the\nhandmaid of religion, to give the Church the organization and form of a\npolitical State, that is, to turn religion from an indwelling spirit\ninto an ecclesiastical machinery.' In other words, the mediaeval attempt\nbroke down through neglecting the special conditions and problems of the\npolitical department of life, through declining, as it were, to\nspecialize. While men were discussing the Theory of the Two Swords,\nwhether the Emperor derived his power directly from God or indirectly\nthrough the Pope, or whether the sword should be used at all, the actual\nwork of government in laying the foundations of the good life was\nneglected. Not only Liberty but Justice and Order were largely in\nabeyance and the range of State action which we to-day describe as\n'social legislation' was not even dreamed of. Absorbed in theory or\nwrapped in ignorance, men forget the practical meaning of Statehood and\nits responsibilities. Central Europe languished for centuries, under a\nsham Empire, in the unprogressive anarchy of feudalism. 'The feudal\nsystem', it has been said,[65] 'was nothing more nor less than the\nattempt of a society which had failed to organize itself as a State, to\nmake contract do the work of patriotism.' It is the bitter experience\nwhich Germany went through under the anarchy of feudalism and petty\ngovernments, lasting to well within living memory, which by a natural\nreaction has led the German people, under Prussian tutelage, to cling to\nthe conception of the State as Power and nothing more.\n\nThe study of politics had to become secular before it could once more\nbecome practical, and, by being practical, ministering to practical\nideals and enlisting practical devotion, become, as it were, sacred\nonce more. Where the well-being of our fellow men is concerned it is not\nenough to be well-meaning. Government is an art, not an aspiration: and\nthose who are concerned with it, whether as rulers or voters, should\nhave studied its problems, reflected on its possibilities and\nlimitations, and fitted themselves to profit by its accumulated\nexperience.\n\nSince the close of the Middle Ages, when politics became secular, the\nart of government has advanced by giant strides. Invention has followed\ninvention, and experiment experiment, till to-day skilled specialists in\nthe Old World and the New are at hand to watch and to record the latest\ndevices for dealing with a hundred difficult special problems--whether\nit be the administration of justice or patronage, the organization of\npolitical parties, the fixing of Cabinet responsibility, the\npossibilities and limits of federalism, the prevention of war. There\nhas, indeed, been as great an advance in the political art in the last\nfour centuries and particularly in the last century, as in the very\nkindred art of medicine. The wonderful concentration of energy which the\nvarious belligerent powers have been able to throw into the present war\nis at once the best and the most tragic illustration of this truth.\nMan's common life in the State is more real, more charged with meaning\nand responsibility, more potent for good or for ill than it has ever\nbeen before--than our predecessors even in the time of Napoleon could\nhave dreamed of.\n\nThe greatest inventors and most skilful practitioners of the political\nart in the modern world have been the English, for it is the English\nwho, of all nations, have held closest to the ideal of freedom in its\nmany and various manifestations. Superficially regarded, the English are\na stupid people, and so their continental neighbours have often\nregarded them. But their racial heritage and their island situation seem\nto have given them just that combination of experience and natural\nendowment necessary to success in the task of government. Taken as a\nwhole, the English are not brilliant, but they are clear-headed: they\nare not far-sighted, but they can see the fact before their eyes: they\nare ill equipped with theoretical knowledge, but they understand the\nworking of institutions and have a good eye for judging character: they\nhave little constructive imagination of the more grandiose sort, but\nthey have an instinct for the 'next step' which has often set them on\npaths which have led them far further than they dreamed; above all, they\nhave a relatively high standard of individual character and public duty,\nwithout which no organization involving the free co-operation of man and\nman can hope to be effective. It is this unique endowment of moral\nqualities and practical gifts, coupled with unrivalled opportunities,\nwhich has made the English the pioneers in modern times in the art of\nhuman association. Englishmen, accustomed to what eighteenth-century\nwriters used to call 'the peculiar felicity of British freedom', do not\nalways remember how far their own experience has carried them on the\nroad of political progress. They do not realize how many problems they\nhave solved and abolished, as the art of medicine has abolished\ndiseases. When they hear speak of the eternal conflict between\nNationality and Nationality, they often forget that a war between\nEngland and Scotland has long since become unthinkable and that the\nplatitudes of St. Andrew's Day are still paradoxes in Central and\nEastern Europe. When they are told of States where the spontaneous\nmanifestations of group-life, non-conforming sects, workmen's\nassociations, and ordinary social clubs, are driven underground and\nclassed as dangerous secret societies, they should realize how precious\na thing is that freedom of association which is one of the dearest\nattributes of English liberty. So too when they read of monarchical and\nmilitary supremacy in a country like Germany, which is still politically\nspeaking in the stage of England under the Tudors, or of Russian\nautocracy, or of the struggle over the King's prerogative which has been\ntaking place in Greece. If we believe, as we must, in the cause of\nliberty, let us not be too modest to say that nations which have not yet\nachieved responsible self-government, whether within or without the\nBritish Commonwealth, are politically backward, and let us recall the\nlong stages of political invention by which our own self-government has\nbeen achieved. Representation, trial by jury, an independent judiciary,\nequality before the law, habeas corpus, a limited monarchy, the practice\nof ministerial responsibility, religious toleration, the freedom of\nprinting and association, colonial autonomy--all these are distinctly\nEnglish inventions, but time has shown that most of them are definite\nadditions to the universal art of government. We can survey the Balkans,\nfor instance, and say with confidence that one thing, amongst others,\nthat those nations are in need of is toleration, both in the sphere of\nnationality and of religion: or declare of the United States that their\nindustrial future will be menaced till they have freed Trade Unionism\nfrom the threat of the so-called law of Conspiracy: or ask of our own\nso-called self-governing Dominions whether they are content with a\nsystem that concedes them no responsible control over the issues of\npeace and war. This is not to say that our own governmental machinery is\nperfect. Far from it. It was never in greater need of overhauling. It is\nonly to reaffirm the belief, which no temporary disillusionment can\nshake, that it is founded on enduring principles which are not political\nbut moral. To compare a system which aims at freedom and seeks to\nattain that aim through the working of responsible self-government with\nsystems, however logically perfect or temporarily effective, which set\nno value on either, is, as it were, to compare black with white. It is\nto go back on the lessons of centuries of experience and to deny the\ncause, not of liberty alone, but of that progress of the spirit of man\nwhich it is the highest object of liberty to promote.\n\nWe have no time here to discuss in detail the various English inventions\nin the art of politics, but we must pause to consider two of the most\nimportant, because they are typical of British methods. The first is the\ninvention called the Principle of Representation. Representation is a\ndevice by which, and by which alone, the area of effective government\ncan be extended without the sacrifice of liberty. It is a device by\nwhich the scattered many can make their will prevail over the few at the\ncentre. Under any non-representative system, whether in a State or a\nChurch or a Trade Union or any other association, men always find\nthemselves set before the inexorable dilemma between freedom and\nweakness on the one hand and strength and tyranny on the other. Either\nthe State or the association has to be kept small, so that the members\nthemselves can meet and keep in touch with all that goes on. Or it is\nallowed to expand and grow strong, in which case power becomes\nconcentrated at the centre and the great body of members loses all\neffective control. The ancient world saw no way out of this dilemma. The\ngreat Oriental monarchies never contemplated even the pretence of\npopular control. The city-states of Greece, where democracy originated,\nset such store in consequence by the personal liberty of the individual\ncitizen, that they preferred to remain small, and suffered the\ninevitable penalty of their weakness. Rome, growing till she\novershadowed the world, sacrificed liberty in the process. Nor was the\nChristian Church, when it became a large-scale organization, able to\novercome the dilemma. It was not till thirteenth-century England that a\nway out was found. Edward I in summoning two burgesses from each borough\nand two knights from each shire to his model Parliament in 1295, hit on\na method of doing business which was destined to revolutionize the art\nof government. He stipulated that the men chosen by their fellows to\nconfer with him must come, to quote the exact words of the summons,\narmed with 'full and sufficient power for themselves and for the\ncommunity of the aforesaid county, and the said citizens and burgesses\nfor themselves and the communities of the aforesaid cities and boroughs\nseparately, there and then, for doing what shall then be ordained\naccording to the Common Council in the premises, so that the aforesaid\nbusiness shall not remain unfinished in any way for defect of this\npower'. In other words, the members were to come to confer with the king\nnot as individuals speaking for themselves alone, but as\nrepresentatives. Their words and acts were to bind those on whose behalf\nthey came, and those who chose them were to do so in the full knowledge\nthat they would be so bound. In choosing them the electors deliberately\nsurrendered their own share of initiative and sovereignty and combined\nto bestow it on a fellow citizen whom they trusted. In this way, and in\nthis way alone, the people of Cornwall and of Northumberland could bring\ntheir wishes to bear and play their part, together with the people at\nthe centre, in the government of a country many times the size of a\ncity-state of ancient Greece. There had been assemblies before in all\nages of history: but this was something different. It was a Parliament.\n\nRepresentation seems to us such an obvious device that we often forget\nhow comparatively modern it is and what a degree of responsibility and\nself-control it demands both in the representative and in those whom he\nrepresents. It is very unpleasant to hear of things done or acquiesced\nin by our representatives of which we disapprove, and to have to\nremember that it is our own fault for not sending a wiser or braver man\nto Westminster in his place. It is still more unpleasant for a\nrepresentative to feel, as he often must, that his own honest opinion\nand conscience draw him one way on a matter of business and the opinions\nof most of his constituents another. But these are difficulties inherent\nin the system, and for which there is no remedy but sincerity and\npatience. It is part of the bargain that a constituency should not be\nable to disavow a representative: and that a representative should feel\nbound to use his own best judgement on the issues put before him. To\nturn the representative, as there is a tendency to do in some quarters,\ninto a mere mouthpiece with a mandate, is to ignore the very problem\nwhich made representation necessary, and to presume that a local\nmass-meeting can be as well informed or take as wide a view as those who\nhave all the facts before them at the centre. The ancient Greeks, who\nhad a strong sense of individuality, were loth to believe that any one\nhuman being could make a decision on behalf of another. In the deepest\nsense of course they were right. But government, as has been said, is at\nbest a rough business. Representation is no more than a practical\ncompromise: but it is a compromise which has been found to work. It has\nmade possible the extension of free government to areas undreamed of. It\nhas enabled the general sense of the inhabitants of the United States,\nan area nearly as large as Europe, to be concentrated at Washington, and\nit may yet make it possible to collect the sense of self-governing\nDominions in four continents in a Parliament at London. All this lay\nimplicit in the practical instructions sent by the English king to his\nsheriffs; but its development would only have been possible in a\ncommunity where the general level of character was a high one and where\nmen were, therefore, in the habit of placing implicit trust in one\nanother. The relationship of confidence between a member of Parliament\nand his constituents, or a Trade Union leader and his rank and file, is\na thing of which public men are rightly proud: for it reflects honour on\nboth parties and testifies to an underlying community of purpose which\nno passing disagreement on details can break down.\n\nRepresentation paved the way for the modern development of responsible\nself-government. But it is important to recognize that the two are not\nthe same thing. Responsible self-government, in its modern form, is a\nseparate and more complex English invention in the art of government. A\ncommunity may be decked out with a complete apparatus of representative\ninstitutions and yet remain little better than an autocracy. Modern\nGermany is a case in point. The parliamentary suffrage for the German\nReichstag is more representative than that for the British House of\nCommons. The German workman is better represented in his Parliament than\nthe British workman is in ours. But the German workman has far less\npower to make his will effective in matters of policy than the British,\nbecause the German constitution does not embody the principle of\nresponsible self-government. Sovereignty still rests with the Kaiser as\nit rested in the thirteenth century with Edward I. The Imperial\nChancellor is not responsible to the Reichstag but to the Kaiser, by\nwhom he is appointed and whose personal servant he remains. The\nReichstag can discuss the actions of the Chancellor: it can advise him,\nor protest to him, or even pass votes of censure against him; but it\ncannot make its will effective. We can observe the working of similar\nrepresentative institutions in different parts of the British\nCommonwealth. The provinces of India and many British Colonies have\nvariously composed representative assemblies, but in all cases without\nthe power to control their executives. The self-governing Dominions, on\nthe other hand, do enjoy responsible self-government, but in an\nincomplete form, because the most vital of all issues of policy are\noutside their control. On questions of foreign policy, and the issues of\nwar and peace, the Parliaments of the Dominions, and the citizens they\nrepresent, are, constitutionally speaking, as helpless as the most\nignorant native in the humblest dependency. Representative institutions\nin themselves thus no more ensure real self-government than the setting\nup of a works committee of employees in a factory would ensure that the\nworkmen ran the factory. The distinction between representation and\neffective responsibility is so simple that it seems a platitude to\nmention it. Yet it is constantly ignored, both in this country by those\nwho speak of Colonial self-government as though the Dominions really\nenjoyed the same self-government as the people of these islands, and by\nthe parties in Germany whose programme it is, not to make Germany a\ntruly constitutional country, but to assimilate the retrograde Prussian\nfranchise to the broader representation of the Reichstag.\n\nWherein does the transition from representation to full responsibility\nconsist? It came about in England when Parliament, instead of merely\nbeing consulted by the sovereign, felt itself strong enough to give\norders to the sovereign. The sovereign naturally resisted, as the Kaiser\nand the Tsar will resist in their turn; but in this country the battle\nwas fought and won in the seventeenth century. Since that time, with a\nfew vacillations, Parliament has been the sovereign power. But once this\ntransfer of sovereignty has taken place, a new problem arises. A\nParliament of several hundred members, even though it meets regularly,\nis not competent to transact the multitudinous and complex and highly\nspecialized business of a modern State. The original function of\nParliament was to advise, to discuss, and to criticize. It is not an\ninstrument fit for the work of execution and administration. Having\nbecome sovereign, its first business must be to create out of its own\nmembers an instrument which should carry out its own policy and be\nresponsible to itself for its actions. Hence arose the Cabinet. The\nCabinet is, as it were, a distillation of Parliament, just as Parliament\nitself is a distillation of the country. It consists of members of\nParliament and it is in constant touch with Parliament; but its methods\nare not the methods of Parliament but of the older, more direct, organs\nof government which Parliament superseded. It meets in secret: it holds\nall the strings of policy: it has almost complete control of political\nand legislative initiative: it decides what is to be done and when and\nhow: it has its own staff of agents and confidential advisers in the\nDepartments and elsewhere whose acts are largely withdrawn from the\nknowledge and criticism of Parliament. A modern Cabinet in fact is open\nto the charge of being autocracy in a new guise. Such a charge would, of\ncourse, be a gross overstatement. But there is no doubt that the\nincreasing complexity in the tasks of government has led to a\ncorresponding growth of power and organization at the centre which has\nstrengthened the Cabinet immeasurably of recent years at the expense of\nthe direct representatives of the people. There are, however, powerful\ninfluences at work in the opposite direction, towards decentralization\nand new forms of representation, which there is no space to touch on\nhere. Suffice it to say that here, as elsewhere, the price of liberty is\neternal vigilance.\n\nEngland, then, and all who enjoy the full privileges of British\ncitizenship have been placed by the progress of events in a position of\npeculiar responsibility. The twentieth century finds us the centre of\nthe widest experiment of self-government which the world has ever seen;\nfor the principles of liberty, first tested in this island, have\napproved themselves on the soil of North America, Australasia, and South\nAfrica. It finds us also responsible for the government and for the\ntraining in responsibility of some 350,000,000 members of the more\npolitically inexperienced and backward races of mankind, or about\none-fifth of the human race. The growth of the British Commonwealth,\nabout which so astonishingly little is known either by ourselves or by\nother peoples, is not a mere happy or unhappy accident. It is one of the\ninevitable and decisive developments in the history of mankind. It is\nthe direct result of that widening of intercourse, that\ninternationalizing of the world, to which reference has already been\nmade. It represents the control of law and organized government over the\nblind and selfish forces of exploitation. In the exercise of this\ncontrol we have often ourselves been blind and sometimes selfish. But\n'the situation of man', as Burke finely said of our Indian Empire, 'is\nthe preceptor of his duty'. The perseverance of the British character,\nits habit of concentration on the work that lies to hand, and the\ninfluence of our traditional social and political ideals, have slowly\nbrought us to a deeper insight, till to-day the Commonwealth is becoming\nalive to the real nature of its task--the extension and consolidation of\nliberty. If it has thus taken up, in part, the work of the mediaeval\nEmpire and has had a measure of success where the other failed, it is\nbecause of the character of its individual citizens, because despite\nconstant and heart-breaking failures in knowledge and imagination, we\nare a people who, in the words of a stern, if friendly, critic, 'with\ngreat self-assertion and a bull-dog kind of courage, have yet a\nsingular amount of gentleness and tenderness'.[66]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have come to the end of our long survey. Some of you may feel that I\nhave fetched too wide a compass and given too wide an extension to the\nmeaning of government. But if I have sinned I have sinned of set\npurpose. I refuse to confine government within the limits of what is\nordinarily called politics, or to discuss the association called the\nState in isolation from other sides of man's community life. To do so, I\nfeel, is to lay oneself open to one of two opposite errors: the error of\nthose for whom the State is the Almighty, and who invest it with a\nsuperhuman morality and authority of its own; and the error of those who\ndraw in their skirts in horror from the touch of what Nietzsche called\nthis 'cold monster' and take refuge in monastic detachment from the\npolitical responsibilities of their time. We must be able to see\npolitics as a part of life before we can see it steadily and see it\nwhole. We must be able to see it in relation to the general ordering of\nthe world and to connect it once more, as in the Middle Ages, with\nreligion and morality. No thinking man can live through such a time as\nthis and preserve his faith unless he is sustained by the belief that\nthe clash of States which is darkening our generation is not a mere\nblind collision of forces, but has spiritual bearings which affect each\nindividual living soul born or to be born in the world. It is not for us\nto anticipate the verdict of history. But what we can do is to bear\nourselves worthily, in thought and speech, like our soldiers in action,\nof the times in which we live--to testify, as it were, in our own lives,\nto that for which so many of our friends have laid down theirs. We are\nmet at a culminating moment of human fate--when, so far as human\njudgement can discern, the political destinies of this planet are being\nsettled for many generations to come--perhaps for good. If the task of\nleadership in the arts of government remains with us, let us face the\nresponsibility conscious of the vast spiritual issues which it involves,\nand let us so plan and act that history, looking back on these years of\nblood, may date from them a new birth of freedom and progress, not for\nourselves in this country alone but throughout that kingdom of Man which\nmust one day, as we believe, become in very truth the kingdom of God.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\n1. _Man's Control over Nature_:\n\n   Ray Lankester, _The Kingdom of Man_, and other essays. 1912.\n\n   Demolins, _Comment la route cree le type social_.\n\n   Curtis (ed. by), _The Commonwealth of Nations_. Vol. i, 1916.\n\n   Murphy, _The Basis of Ascendancy_. 1909.\n\n   _Introduction to the Study of International Relations_ (Greenwood\n   and others). 1916.\n\n2. _Political Ideals_:\n\n   _The Jews_: Todd, _Politics and Religion in Ancient Israel_. 1904.\n\n   _Greece_: _Aristotle's Politics_, translated by B. Jowett. 1908.\n\n   Dickinson, _The Greek View of Life_. 1909.\n\n   Barker, _The Political thought of Plato and Aristotle_. 1908.\n\n   _Rome_: H. Stuart Jones, _The Roman Empire_. (Story of the\n   Nations.) 1908. Warde Fowler, _Rome_ (Home University\n   Series).\n\n   _The Middle Ages_: A. L. Smith, _Church and State in the Middle\n   Ages_. 1911.\n\n   Gierke, _Political Theories of the Middle Ages_ (introduction by\n   Maitland). 1900.\n\n   _Miscellaneous_: Wallas, _Human Nature in Politics_. 1908.\n\n   Acton, _The History of Freedom_, and other essays. 1909.\n\n   Lowell, _The Government of England_.\n\n   Buelow, _Imperial Germany_. 1916.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[53] A. L. Smith, _Church and State in the Middle Ages_, pp. 207-8.\n\n[54] Lankester, _Nature and Man_, Romanes Lecture, 1905, pp. 27-9.\n\n[55] _The Commonwealth of Nations_, edited by L. Curtis, Part I, p. 130.\n\n[56] Ibid., p. 166.\n\n[57] P. H. Kerr in _An Introduction to the Study of International\nRelations_, 1915, p. 149.\n\n[58] A still better name would be the Great Responsibilities.\n\n[59] _Second Thoughts of an Economist_, 1916, pp. 17-18, 22.\n\n[60] _Freedom and other Essays_, p. 22.\n\n[61] Isaiah lxvi. 2; lvii. 19, 21; ii. 3, 4.\n\n[62] _Ecclesiastical Polity_, Book I, ch. xvi. 5.\n\n[63] End of Book I of the _Ecclesiastical Polity_.\n\n[64] Gierke, _Political Theories of the Middle Age_, pp. 8 and 10.\n\n[65] _The Commonwealth of Nations_, Part I, p. 73.\n\n[66] _Memoirs and letters of Sir Robert Morier_, ii. 276.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nPROGRESS IN INDUSTRY\n\nA. E. ZIMMERN\n\n\nIn our study of Government we traced the upward course of the common\nlife of mankind in the world. We saw it in the increasing control of Man\nover his physical environment, and we saw it also in his clearer\nrealization of the ultimate ideal of government--the ordering of the\nworld's affairs on the basis of liberty. We have now to turn aside from\nthis main stream of social development to watch one particular branch of\nit--to survey man's record in the special department of economics. We\nshall no longer be studying human history, or the history of human\nsociety, as a whole, but what is known as economic or industrial\nhistory.\n\nIt is important to be clear at the outset that economic or industrial\nhistory _is_ a tributary stream and not the main stream: for there are a\nnumber of people who are of the contrary opinion. There has been an\nincreasing tendency of recent years to write human history in terms of\neconomic or industrial progress. 'Tell me what men ate or wore or\nmanufactured,' say historians of this school, 'and we will tell you what\nstage of civilization he had reached. We will place him in his proper\npigeonhole in our arrangement of the record of human progress.' Did he\nuse flint implements or fight with nothing but a bow and arrow? Did he\nuse a canoe with a primitive pole which he had not even the sense to\nflatten so as to make it into a serviceable paddle? Then our\nsociologist will put him very low down on his list of the stages of\nhuman progress. For the modern sociologist is a confirmed plutocrat. He\nmeasures the character of men and races by their wealth. Just as\nold-fashioned people still think of the society of our own country as a\nhierarchy, in which the various classes are graded according to their\nsocial prestige and the extent of their possessions: so students of\nprimitive civilization classify races according to their material\nequipment, and can hardly help yielding to the temptation of reckoning\ntheir stage of progress as a whole by the only available test. Thus it\nis common, especially in Germany and the United States, to find\nhistories of what purports to be the progress of mankind which show man\nfirst as a hunter and a fisherman, then as a shepherd, then as a tiller\nof the soil, and then work upwards to the complicated industrial system\nof to-day. We are asked to accept the life of Abraham or David among the\nsheepfolds as the bottom of the ladder, and the life of a modern\nwage-earner under the smoky sky of a manufacturing area as the top; and\nwhen we complain and say, as men like William Morris and Stephen Graham\nare always saying, that we would far prefer to live in David's world, in\nspite of all its discomforts, we are told that we have no right to\nquarrel with the sacred principle of Evolution.\n\nTo interpret human history in this way is, of course, to deny its\nspiritual meaning, to deny that it is a record of the progress of the\nhuman _spirit_ at all. It is to read it as a tale of the improvement, or\nrather the increasing complication, of _things_, rather than of the\nadvance of man. It is to view the world as a Domain of Matter, not as\nthe Kingdom of Man--still less, as the Kingdom of God. It is to tie us\nhelplessly to the chariot wheels of an industrial Juggernaut which knows\nnothing of moral values. Let the progress of industry make life noisy\nand ugly and anxious and unhappy: let it engross the great mass of\nmankind in tedious and uncongenial tasks and the remainder in the\nfoolish and unsatisfying activities of luxurious living; let it defile\nthe green earth with pits and factories and slag-heaps and the mean\nstreets of those who toil at them, and dim the daylight with exhalations\nof monstrous vapour. It is not for us to complain or to resist: for we\nare in the grip of a Power which is greater than ourselves, a Power to\nwhich mankind in all five continents has learnt to yield--that Economic\nProcess which is, in truth, the God, or the Devil, of the modern world.\n\nNo thinking man dare acquiesce in such a conclusion or consent to bow\nthe head before such fancied necessities. The function of industry, he\nwill reply, is to serve human life not to master it: to beautify human\nlife not to degrade it: to set life free not to enslave it. Economics is\nnot the whole of life: and when it transgresses its bounds and exceeds\nits functions it must be controlled and thrust back into its place by\nthe combined activities of men. The soul is higher than the body, and\nlife is more than housekeeping. Liberty is higher than Riches, and the\nwelfare of the community more important than its economic and material\nprogress. These great processes, which the increase of man's knowledge\nhas set in motion, are not impersonal inhuman forces: Men originated\nthem: men administer them: and men must control them. Against economic\nnecessity let us set political necessity: and let the watchword of that\npolitical necessity, here as always, be the freedom and the well-being\nof mankind.\n\nWith this caution in mind, then, let us approach our subject.\n\nWhat is Economics? Economics is simply the Greek for 'house-keeping'. If\nwriters and thinkers on the subject had only kept this simple fact in\nmind, or used the English word instead of the Greek, the world would\nhave been saved much misery and confusion. Political economy is not,\nwhat Mill and other writers define it to be, 'the Science of Wealth'. It\nis the art of community-housekeeping, and community-housekeeping, as\nevery woman knows, is a very important if subsidiary branch of the art\nof community-management or government.\n\nHousekeeping, of course, is not a selfish but a social function.\nHousewives do not lay in bread and cheese simply to gratify their own\ndesire to be possessors of a large store, but for the sake of their\nhousehold. The true housekeeper or economic man is the man who is\nconsciously ministering to the real needs of the community. Like the\nruler or minister in the political sphere, he is a man who is performing\na public service.\n\nThis is equally true whether the housekeeper has a monopoly of the\npurchase of bread and cheese for the household, or whether he or she has\nto compete with others as to which is to be allowed to serve the public\nin that particular transaction. Just as, under the party system, which\nseems to be inseparable from the working of democratic institutions, men\nstand for Parliament and compete for the honour of representing their\nneighbours, so in most systems of industry men compete for the honour of\nsupplying the public. Competition in industry is practically as old as\nindustry. In the earliest picture that has come down to us of Greek\nvillage life we read of the competition between potter and potter and\nbetween minstrel and minstrel--a competition as keen and as fierce, we\nmay be sure, as that between rival shopkeepers to-day. For the opposite\nof competition, as has been truly said, is not co-operation but monopoly\nor bureaucracy: and there is no short and easy means of deciding between\nthe rival systems. Sometimes the community is better served by\nentrusting one department wholly to one purveyor or one system of\nmanagement--as in the Postal Service, or the Army and Navy. Sometimes it\nis clearly better to leave the matter open to competition. Nobody, for\ninstance, would propose to do with only one minstrel, and seal the lips\nof all poets but the Poet Laureate. Sometimes, as in the case of the\norganized professions and the liquor trade, a strictly regulated system\nof competition has been considered best. No doubt the tendency at the\npresent time is setting strongly against competition and towards more\nunified and more closely organized systems of doing business. But it is\nimportant to make quite clear that there is nothing immoral or\nanti-social about the fact of competition itself, and nothing\ninconsistent with the idea of service and co-operation which should\nunderlie all social and economic activity. It is not competition itself,\nas people often wrongly think, which is the evil, but the shallow and\nselfish motives and the ruthless trampling down of the weak that are too\noften associated with it. When we condemn the maxim 'the Devil take the\nhindmost', it is not because we think we ought to treat the hindmost as\nthough he were the foremost--to buy cracked jars or patronize incapable\nminstrels. It is because we feel that there is a wrong standard of\nreward among those who have pushed to the front, and that the community\nas a whole cannot ignore its responsibility towards its less fortunate\nand capable members.\n\nIt is, indeed, quite impossible to abolish competition for the patronage\nof the household without subjecting its members to tyranny or tying them\ndown to an intolerable uniformity--forcing them to suppress their own\ntemporary likes or dislikes and to go on taking in the same stuff in the\nsame quantities world without end. For the most serious and permanent\ncompetition is not that between rival purveyors of the same goods,\nbetween potter and potter and minstrel and minstrel, but between one\nset of goods and another: between the potter and the blacksmith, the\nminstrel and the painter. If we abolished competition permanently\nbetween the British railways we could not make sure that the public\nwould always use them as it does now. People would still be at liberty\nto walk or to drive or to bicycle or to fly, or, at the very worst, to\nstay at home. Competition, as every business man knows, sometimes arises\nfrom the most unexpected quarters. The picture-house and the bicycle\nhave damaged the brewer and the publican. Similarly the motor-car and\nthe golf links have spoilt the trade in the fine china ornaments such as\nused to be common in expensively furnished drawing-rooms. People sit\nless in their rooms, so spend less on decorating them. The members of\nthe household always retain ultimate control over their economic life,\nif they care to exercise it. 'Whoso has sixpence,' as Carlyle said, 'is\nsovereign (to the length of sixpence), over all men; commands Cooks to\nfeed him, Philosophers to teach him, Kings to mount guard over him,'--to\nthe length of sixpence. Passive resistance and the boycott are always\nopen to the public in the last resort against any of their servants who\nhas abused the powers of his position. A good instance of this occurred\nin the events which led to the so-called Tobacco riots in Milan in 1848.\nThe Austrians thought they could force the Italians in their Lombard\nprovinces to pay for a government they hated by putting a heavy tax on\ntobacco. But the Italians, with more self-control than we have shown in\nthe present war, with one accord gave up smoking. Here was a plain\ncompetition between a monopoly and the consumer, between tobacco and\npatriotism: between a united household and an unpopular servant: and the\nhousehold won, as it always can unless its members are incapable of\ncombined action or have been deprived by governmental tyranny of all\npower to associate and to organize.\n\nWe are faced then with a community or household which has certain wants\nthat need to be supplied. The individual members of the community are\njustified, within the limits of general well-being,[67] in deciding what\nare their own wants and how to satisfy them. They claim the right to\n_demand_, as the economists put it, the goods and services they require,\nbread and cheese, poetry, tobacco, motor-bicycles, china ornaments. In\norder to meet those demands, which are stable in essentials but subject\nto constant modification in detail, there is ceaseless activity,\nrivalry, competition, on the part of the purveyors--on the side of what\neconomists call _supply_. The business of housekeeping, or what is\ncalled the economic process, is that of bringing this demand and this\nsupply into relation with one another. If the members of the household\nsaid they wanted to eat the moon instead of sugar, their demand would\nnot be an economic demand: for no housekeeper could satisfy it.\nSimilarly on the supply side: if the baker insisted on bringing round\nbad epics instead of bread and the grocer bad sonatas instead of sugar,\nthe supply, however good it might seem to the baker and the grocer, and\nhowever much satisfaction they might personally have derived from their\nwork, would not be an economic supply: for the housekeeper, acting on\nbehalf of the household, would not take it in. But if the demand was for\nsomething not yet available, but less impossibly remote than the moon,\nthe housekeeper might persuade the purveyors to cudgel their brains till\nthey had met the need. For, as we know, Necessity, which is another word\nfor Demand, is the mother of invention. Similarly, if a purveyor\nsupplied something undreamed of by the household, but otherwise good of\nits kind, he might succeed in persuading the household to like it--in\nother words, in creating a demand. The late Sir Alfred Jones, by putting\nbananas cheap on the market, persuaded us that we liked them. Similarly\nMr. Marvin, who deals in something better than bananas, has persuaded us\nall to come here, though most of us would never have thought of it\nunless he had created the demand in us.\n\nEconomic Progress, then, is progress both on the side of demand and on\nthe side of supply. It is a progress in wants as well as in their means\nof satisfaction: a progress in the aspirations of the household as well\nas in the contrivances of its purveyors: a progress in the sense of what\nlife might be, as well as in the skill and genius and organizing powers\nof those to whom the community looks for help in the realization of its\nhopes. It is important that this double aspect of our subject should be\nrealized, for in what follows we shall have no opportunity to dwell\nfurther upon it. Space compels us to leave the household and its wants\nand aspirations out of account and to direct our attention solely to the\nside of supply; although it must always be remembered that no real and\npermanent progress in the organization of production is possible without\nimprovements in the quality and reduction in the number of the\nrequirements of what is called civilization.[68] What we have to watch,\nin our study of progress in industry, is the history of man as a\npurveyor of the household: in other words, as a producer of goods and\nservices: from the days of the primitive savage with his bark canoe to\nthe gigantic industrial enterprises of our own time.\n\nWe can best do so by dividing our subject into two on somewhat similar\nlines to the division in our study of government. Let us consider\nindustry, first as an activity involving a relationship between man and\nNature; secondly, as involving what may be called a problem of\nindustrial government, a problem arising out of the co-operation between\nman and man in industrial work. In the first of these aspects we shall\nsee man as a maker, an inventor, an artist; in the second as a subject\nor a citizen, a slave or a free man, in the Industrial Commonwealth.\n\nMan as a maker or producer carries us back to the dawn of history. Man\nis a tool-using animal and the early stages of human history are a\nrecord of the elaboration of tools. The flint axes in our museums are\nthe earliest monuments of the activity of the human spirit. We do not\nknow what the cave men of the Old Stone Age said or thought, or indeed\nwhether they did anything that we should call speaking or thinking at\nall; but we know what they made. Centuries and millenniums elapsed\nbetween them and the first peoples of whom we have any more intimate\nrecord--centuries during which the foundations of our existing\nindustrial knowledge and practice were being steadily laid. 'One may say\nin general,' says Mr. Marvin,[69]\n\n     that most of the fruitful practical devices of mankind had\n     their origin in prehistoric times, many of them existing\n     then with little essential difference. Any one of them\n     affords a lesson in the gradual elaboration of the simple. A\n     step minute in itself leads on and on, and so all the\n     practical arts are built up, a readier and more observant\n     mind imitating and adapting the work of predecessors, as we\n     imagined the first man making his first flint axe. The\n     history of the plough goes back to the elongation of a bent\n     stick. The wheel would arise from cutting out the middle of\n     a trunk used as a roller. House architecture is the\n     imitation with logs and mud of the natural shelters of the\n     rocks, and begins its great development when men have learnt\n     to make square corners instead of a rough circle. And so on\n     with all the arts of life or pleasure, including clothing,\n     cooking, tilling, sailing, and fighting.\n\nHow did this gradual progress come about? Mr. Marvin himself supplies\nthe answer. Through the action of the 'readier and more observant\nminds'--in other words, through specialization and the division of\nlabour. As far back as we can go in history we find a recognition that\nmen are not all alike, that some have one gift and some another, and\nthat it is to the advantage of society to let each use his own gift in\nthe public service. Among primitive peoples there has indeed often been\na belief that men are compensated for physical weakness and disability\nby peculiar excellence in some sphere of their own. Hephaestos among the\nGreek gods was lame: so he becomes a blacksmith and uses his arms. Homer\nis blind: so instead of fighting he sings of war. They would not go so\nfar as to maintain that all lame men must be good blacksmiths or all\nblind men good poets: but at least they recognized that there was room\nin the community for special types and that the blacksmith and the poet\nwere as useful as the ordinary run of cultivators and fighting men. The\nGreek word for craftsman--[Greek: demiourgos]--'worker for the people,'\nshows how the Greeks felt on this point. To them poetry and\ncraftsmanship were as much honourable occupations or, as we should say,\nprofessional activities as fighting and tilling. Whether Homer took to\npoetry because he could not fight or because he had an overwhelming\npoetic gift, he had justified his place in the community.\n\nSpecialization is the foundation of all craftsmanship and therefore the\nsource of all industrial progress. We recognize this, of course, in\ncommon speech. 'Practice makes perfect,' 'Genius is an infinite capacity\nfor taking pains,' are only different ways of saying that it is not\nenough to be 'ready' and 'observant', but that continued activity and\nconcentration are necessary. A perfect industrial community would not be\na community where everybody was doing the same thing: nor would it be a\ncommunity where every one was doing just what he liked at the moment: it\nwould be a community where every one was putting all his strength into\nthe work which he was by nature best qualified to do--where, in the\nwords of Kipling:\n\n    No one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,\n    But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,\n    Shall draw the thing as he sees it for the God of Things as They Are.\n\nProgress in industry, then, on this side, consists in increasing\nspecialization and in the perfection of the relationship between the\nworkman and his work. Man in this world is destined to labour, and\nlabour is often described as the curse of Adam. But in reality, as every\none knows who has tried it, or observed the habits of those who have,\nidleness is far more of a curse than labour. Few men--at any rate in the\ntemperate zone--can be consistently idle and remain happy. The born\nidler is almost as rare as the born poet. Most men, and, it must be\nadded, most women, are happier working. If holidays were the rule and\nwork the exception the world would be a much less cheerful place than it\nis even to-day. Purposeful activity is as natural to man as playing is\nto a kitten. From a purely natural point of view, no one has ever given\na better definition of happiness than Aristotle when he defined it as\n_an activity of the soul in the direction of excellence in an unhampered\nlife_. By excellence, of course, in this famous definition, Aristotle\ndoes not mean simply virtue: he means excellence in work. It is\nimpossible, as we all know, to be good in the abstract. We must be good\nin some particular directions, _at_ some particular thing. And the\nparticular thing that we are good at is _our_ work, our craft, our\nart--or, to use our less aesthetic English word, for which there is no\nequivalent in Greek, our duty. If happiness is to be found in doing\none's duty, it does not result from doing that duty badly, but from\ndoing it well--turning out, as we say, a thoroughly good piece of work,\nwhether a day's work or a life work. There is a lingering idea, still\nheld in some quarters, that the more unpleasant an activity is the more\nvirtuous it is. This is a mere barbarous survival from the days of what\nNietzsche called slave-morality. We are each of us born with special\nindividual gifts and capacities. There is, if we only knew it, some\nparticular kind or piece of work which we are pre-eminently fitted to\ndo--some particular activity or profession, be it held in high or in low\nrepute in the world of to-day, in which we can win the steady happiness\nof purposeful labour. Shall we then say that it ministers to human\nprogress and to the glory of God deliberately to bury our talent out of\nsight and to seek rather work which, because it is irksome and\nunpleasant to us, we can never succeed in doing either easily or really\nwell? No one who knows anything of education or of the training of the\nyoung, no one, indeed, who has any love for children, would dare to say\nthat we should. Our State educational system, miserably defective though\nit is in this regard, is based upon the idea of ministering to the\nspecial gifts of its pupils--of trying by scholarships, by Care\nCommittees, by the institution of schools with a special 'bias', to meet\nthe needs of different kinds of young people and to set them in the path\non which they are best fitted to travel.\n\nIn doing this the modern State is only trying to carry out the\nprinciple laid down in the greatest book ever written on\neducation--Plato's _Republic_. Plato's object was to train every citizen\nto fill the one position where he could lead the best life for the good\nof the State. His aim was not to make his citizens happy but to promote\ngoodness; but he had enough faith in human nature--and who can be an\neducational thinker without having faith in human nature?--to be\nconvinced that to enable men to 'do their bit', as we say to-day, was to\nassure them of the truest happiness. We of this generation know how\nabundantly that faith has been confirmed. And indeed we can appeal in\nthis matter not only to the common sense of Education Authorities or to\nthe philosophy of the ancients, but to the principles of the Christian\nreligion. The late Professor Smart, who was not only a good economist\nbut a good man; has some very pertinent words on this subject. 'If for\nsome reason that we know not of,' he remarks,[70]\n\n     this present is merely the first stage in being; if we are\n     all at school, and not merely pitched into the world by\n     chance to pick up our living as best we can ... it seems to\n     me that we have reason enough to complain of the existing\n     economic system.... I imagine that many of our churchgoing\n     people, if they ever get to the heaven they sing about, will\n     find themselves most uncomfortable, if it be a place for\n     which they have made no preparation but in the 'business' in\n     which they have earned their living.... A man's daily work\n     is a far greater thing towards the development of the God\n     that is in him than his wealth. And, however revolutionary\n     the idea is, I must say that all our accumulations of wealth\n     are little to the purpose of life if they do not tend\n     towards the giving to all men the opportunity of such work\n     as will have its reward _in the doing_.\n\nAnd of his own particular life-work, teaching, he remarks, in words that\ntestify to his own inner peace and happiness, that 'some of us have got\ninto occupations which almost seem to guarantee immortality'.\n\nLet us, then, boldly lay it down that the best test of progress in\nindustry and the best measure of success in any industrial system is the\ndegree to which it enables men to 'do their bit' and so to find\nhappiness in their daily work, or if you prefer more distinctively\nreligious language, the degree to which it enables men to develop the\nGod that is in them. Let us have the courage to say that in the great\nbattle which Ruskin and William Morris fought almost single-handed\nagainst all the Philistines of the nineteenth century, Ruskin and\nMorris, however wrong they may have been on points of practical detail,\nwere right in principle. Let us make up our minds that a world in which\nmen have surrendered the best hours of the day to unsatisfying drudgery,\nand banished happiness to their brief periods of tired leisure, is so\nfar from civilized that it has not even made clear to itself wherein\ncivilization consists. And when we read such a passage as the following\nfrom a leading modern economist, let us not yield to the promptings of\nour lower nature and acquiesce in its apparent common sense, but\nremember that economists, like all workmen, are bounded by the limits of\ntheir own particular craft or study. 'The greater part of the world's\nwork,' says Professor Taussig,[71] the leading exponent of Economics at\nHarvard,\n\n     is not in itself felt to be pleasurable. Some reformers have\n     hoped to reach a social system under which all work would be\n     in itself a source of satisfaction. It is probable that\n     such persons are made optimistic by the nature of their own\n     doings. They are writers, schemers, reformers; they are\n     usually of strongly altruistic character, and the\n     performance of any duty or set task brings to them the\n     approval of an exacting conscience; and they believe that\n     all mankind can be brought to labour in their own spirit.\n     The world would be a much happier place if their state of\n     mind could be made universal. But the great mass of men are\n     of a humdrum sort, not born with any marked bent or any\n     loftiness of character. Moreover, most of the world's work\n     for the satisfaction of our primary wants must be of a\n     humdrum sort, and often of a rough and coarse sort. There\n     must be ditching and delving, sowing and reaping, hammering\n     and sawing, and all the severe physical exertion which,\n     however lightened by tools and machinery, yet can never be\n     other than labour in the ordinary sense of the word.\n\nWhen Professor Taussig assures us that 'the great mass of men are of a\nhumdrum sort, not born with any marked bent or loftiness of character'\nhe is simply denying the Christian religion. To argue the point with him\nwould carry us too far. We will do no more here than remind him that the\npeople to whom the Founder of Christianity preached, and even those who\nwere chosen to be its first disciples, were, like this audience,\ndistinctly humdrum, and that assuredly the American Professor would not\nhave discerned in them promising material for a world-transforming\nreligious movement. What people see in others is often a mirror of\nthemselves. Perhaps Professor Taussig, in spite of his excellent book,\nis rather a humdrum person himself.\n\nWhen, however, Professor Taussig declares that 'the greater part of the\nworld's work is not in itself felt to be pleasurable' he is saying what,\nunder existing conditions, we must all recognize to be true. A year or\ntwo ago Mr. Graham Wallas made an investigation into this very question,\nthe results of which confirmed the general impression that modern\nworkmen find little happiness in their work.[72] But two of the\nconclusions which he reached conflict in a rather curious way with the\nstatement of Professor Taussig. Mr. Wallas's evidence, which was largely\ndrawn from students of Ruskin College, led him to the conclusion 'that\nthere is less pleasantness or happiness in work the nearer it approaches\nthe fully organized Great Industry'. The only workman who spoke\nenthusiastically of his work was an agricultural labourer who 'was very\nemphatic with regard to the pleasure to be obtained from agricultural\nwork'. Professor Taussig, on the other hand, selects four agricultural\noccupations, ditching, delving, sowing, and reaping, as\ncharacteristically unpleasant and looks to machinery and the apparatus\nof the Industrial Revolution to counteract this unpleasantness. But the\nmost interesting evidence gathered by Mr. Wallas was that relating to\nwomen workers. He had an opportunity of collecting the views of girls\nemployed in the laundries and poorer kind of factories in Boston. 'The\nanswers', he says,[73] 'surprised me greatly. I expected to hear those\ncomplaints about bad wages, hard conditions and arbitrary discipline\nwhich a body of men working at the same grade of labour would certainly\nhave put forward. But it was obvious that the question \"Are you happy?\"\nmeant to the girls \"Are you happier than you would have been if you had\nstayed at home instead of going to work?\" And almost every one of them\nanswered \"Yes\".' Why were they unhappy at home? Let Professor Taussig\nreflect on the answer. Not because they had 'rough' or 'coarse' or\n'humdrum' work to do, as in a factory or laundry, but because they had\nnothing to do, and they had found idleness unbearable. 'One said that\nwork \"took up her mind\", she had been awfully discontented'. Another\nthat 'you were of some use'. Another thought 'it was because the hours\nwent so much faster. At home one could read, but only for a short time,\nthere was the awful lonesome afternoon ahead of you.' 'Asked a little\ngirl with dyed hair but a good little heart. She enjoyed her work. It\nmade her feel she was worth something.' And Mr. Wallas concludes that it\nis just because 'everything that is interesting, even though it is\nlaborious, in the women's arts of the old village is gone': because\n'clothes are bought ready-made, food is bought either ready-cooked, like\nbread and jam and fish, or only requiring the simplest kind of cooking':\nin fact just because physical exertion has been lightened by books and\nmachinery, that 'there results a mass of inarticulate unhappiness whose\nexistence has hardly been indicated by our present method of\nsociological enquiry'.\n\nIt would seem then that the task of associating modern industrial work\nwith happiness is not impossible, if we would only set ourselves to the\ntask. And the task is a two-fold one. It is, first, to make it possible\nfor people to follow the employment for which they are by nature best\nfitted; and secondly, to study much more closely than heretofore, from\nthe point of view of happiness, the conditions under which work is done.\nThe first task involves a very considerable reversal of current\neducational and social values. It does not simply mean paving the way\nfor the son of an engine-driver to become a doctor or a lawyer or a\ncavalryman. It means paving the way for the son of a duke to become,\nwithout any sense of social failure, an engine-driver or a merchant\nseaman or a worker on the land--and to do so not, as to-day, in the\ndecent seclusion of British Columbia or Australia, but in our own\ncountry and without losing touch, if he desires it, with his own natural\ncircle of friends. The ladder is an old and outworn metaphor in this\nconnexion. Yet it is still worth remembering that the Angels whom Jacob\nobserved upon it were both ascending and descending. It is one of the\nfallacies of our social system to believe that a ladder should only be\nused in one direction--and that the direction which tends to remove men\nfrom contact and sympathy with their fellows. But in truth we need to\ndiscard the metaphor of the ladder altogether, with its implied\nsuggestion that some tasks of community-service are more honourable and\ninvolve more of what the world calls 'success' than others. We do not\ndesire a system of education which picks out for promotion minds gifted\nwith certain kinds of capacity and stimulates them with the offer of\nmaterial rewards, while the so-called humdrum remainder are left, with\ntheir latent talents undiscovered and undeveloped.\n\nRecent educational experiments,[74] and not least that most testing of\nall school examinations, the war, have shown us that we must revise all\nour old notions as to cleverness and stupidity. We know now that, short\nof real mental deficiency, there is or ought to be no such personage as\nthe dunce. Just as the criminal is generally a man of unusual energy and\nmental power directed into wrong channels, so the dunce is a pupil whose\nspecial powers and aptitudes have not revealed themselves in the routine\nof school life. And just as the criminal points to serious defects in\nour social system, so the dunce points to serious defects in our\neducational system. The striking record of our industrial schools and\nreformatories in the war shows what young criminals and dunces can do\nwhen they are given a fair field for their special gifts. One of the\nchief lessons to be drawn from the war is the need for a new spirit and\noutlook in our national education from the elementary school to the\nUniversity. We need a system which treats every child, rich or poor, as\na living and developing personality, which enables every English boy and\ngirl to stay at school at least up to the time when his or her natural\nbent begins to disclose itself, which provides for all classes of the\ncommunity skilled guidance in the choice of employment based upon\npsychological study of individual gifts and aptitude,[75] which sets up\nmethods of training and apprenticeship in the different trades--or, as I\nwould prefer to call them the different professions--such as to\ncounteract the deadening influence of premature specialization, and\nwhich ensures good conditions and a sense of self-respect and\ncommunity-service to all in their self-chosen line of life, whether\ntheir bent be manual or mechanical or commercial or administrative, or\nfor working on the land or for going to sea, or towards the more special\nvocations of teaching or scholarship or the law or medicine or the cure\nof souls. No one can estimate how large a share of the unhappiness\nassociated with our existing social system is due to the fact that,\nowing to defects in our education and our arrangements for the choice of\nemployment, there are myriads of square pegs in round holes. This\napplies with especial force to women, to whom many of the square holes\nare still inaccessible, not simply owing to the lack of opportunities\nfor individuals, but owing to the inhibitions of custom and, in some\ncases, to narrow and retrograde professional enactments. The war has\nbrought women their chance, not only in the office and the workshop,\nbut in higher administrative and organizing positions, and not the least\nof its results is the revelation of undreamt-of capacities in these\ndirections.\n\nIn the second task, that of perfecting the adaptation between men and\ntheir tools, we have much to learn from the industrial history of the\npast. It is natural for men to enjoy 'talking shop', and this esoteric\nbond of union has existed between workmen in all ages. We may be sure\nthat there were discussions amongst connoisseurs in the Stone Age as to\nthe respective merits of their flint axes, just as there are to-day\nbetween golfers about niblicks and putters, and between surgeons as to\nthe technique of the extraction of an appendix. A good workman loves his\ntools. He is indeed inseparable from them, as our law acknowledges by\nforbidding a bankrupt's tools to be sold up. Give a good workman, in\ntown or country, a sympathetic listener and he is only too ready to\nexpatiate on his daily work. This sense of kinship between men and their\ntools and material is so little understood by some of our modern expert\norganizers of industry that it is worth while illustrating it at some\nlength. I make no apology, therefore, for quoting a striking passage\nfrom an essay by Mr. George Bourne, who is not a trade unionist or a\nstudent of Labour politics but an observer of English village life, who\nhas taken the trouble to penetrate the mind of what is commonly regarded\nas the stupidest and most backward--as it is certainly the least\narticulate--class of workmen in this country, the agricultural labourer\nin the southern counties. 'The men', he writes,\n\n     are commonly too modest about their work, and too\n     unconscious that it can interest an outsider, to dream of\n     discussing it. What they have to say would not therefore by\n     itself go far in demonstration of their acquirements in\n     technique. Fortunately, for proof of that we are not\n     dependent on talk. Besides talk there exists another kind of\n     evidence open to every one's examination, and the technical\n     skill exercised in country labours may be purely deduced\n     from the aptness and singular beauty of sundry country\n     tools.\n\n     The beauty of tools is not accidental, but inherent and\n     essential. The contours of a ship's sail bellying in the\n     wind are not more inevitable, nor more graceful, than the\n     curves of an adze-head or of a plough-share. Cast in iron or\n     steel, the gracefulness of a plough-share is more\n     indestructible than the metal, yet pliant (in the limits of\n     its type) as a line of English blank verse. It changes for\n     different soils: it is widened out or narrowed; it is\n     deep-grooved or shallow; not because of caprice at the\n     foundry or to satisfy an artistic fad, but to meet the\n     technical demands of the expert ploughman. The most familiar\n     example of beauty indicating subtle technique is supplied by\n     the admired shape of boats, which, however, is so variable\n     (the statement is made on the authority of an old\n     coast-guardsman) that the boat best adapted for one stretch\n     of shore may be dangerous, if not entirely useless, at\n     another stretch ten miles away. And as technique determines\n     the design of a boat, or of a waggon, or of a plough-share,\n     so it controls absolutely the fashioning of tools, and is\n     responsible for any beauty of form they may possess. Of all\n     tools none, of course, is more exquisite than a fiddle-bow.\n     But the fiddle-bow never could have been perfected, because\n     there would have been no call for its tapering delicacy, its\n     calculated balance of lightness and strength, had not the\n     violinist's technique reached such marvellous fineness of\n     power. For it is the accomplished artist who is fastidious\n     as to his tools; the bungling beginner can bungle with\n     anything. The fiddle-bow, however, affords only one example\n     of a rule which is equally well exemplified by many humbler\n     tools. Quarryman's peck, coachman's whip, cricket-bat,\n     fishing-rod, trowel, all have their intimate relation to the\n     skill of those who use them; and like animals and plants,\n     adapting themselves each to its own place in the universal\n     order, they attain to beauty by force of being fit. That law\n     of adaptation which shapes the wings of a swallow and\n     prescribes the poise and elegance of the branches of trees\n     is the same that demands symmetry in the corn-rick and\n     convexity in the beer-barrel; the same that, exerting itself\n     with matchless precision through the trained senses of\n     haymakers and woodmen, gives the final curve to the handles\n     of their scythes and the shafts of their axes. Hence the\n     beauty of a tool is an unfailing sign that in the proper\n     handling of it technique is present ...\n\n'It is not the well-informed and those eager to teach', he says in\nanother passage,\n\n     who know the primitive necessary lore of civilization; it is\n     the illiterate. In California, Louis Stevenson found men\n     studying the quality of vines grown on different pockets of\n     earth, just as the peasants of Burgundy and the Rhine have\n     done for ages. And even so the English generations have\n     watched the produce of their varying soils. When or how was\n     it learnt--was it at Oxford or at Cambridge?--that the\n     apples of Devonshire are so specially fit for cider? Or how\n     is it that hops are growing--some of them planted before\n     living memory--all along the strip of green sand which\n     encircles the Weald--that curious strip to which text-books\n     at last point triumphantly as being singularly adapted for\n     hops? Until it got into the books, this piece of knowledge\n     was not thought of as learning; it had merely been acted\n     upon during some centuries. But such knowledge exists,\n     boundless, in whatever direction one follows it: the\n     knowledge of fitting means to ends: excellent rule-of-thumb\n     knowledge, as good as the chemist uses for analyzing water.\n     When the peculiar values of a plot of land have been\n     established--as, for instance, that it is a clay 'too\n     strong' for bricks--then further forms of localized\n     knowledge are brought to supplement this, until at last the\n     bricks are made. Next, they must be removed from the field;\n     and immediately new problems arise. The old farm-cart,\n     designed for roots or manure, has not the most suitable\n     shape for brick-carting. Probably, too, its wide wheels,\n     which were intended for the softness of ploughed land, are\n     needlessly clumsy for the hard road. Soon, therefore, the\n     local wheelwright begins to lighten his spokes and felloes,\n     and to make the wheels a trifle less 'dished'; while his\n     blacksmith binds them in a narrower but thicker tyre, to\n     which he gives a shade more tightness. For the wheelwright\n     learns from the carter--that ignorant fellow--the answer to\n     the new problems set by a load of bricks. A good carter, for\n     his part, is able to adjust his labour to his locality. A\n     part of his duty consists in knowing what constitutes a fair\n     load for his horse in the district where he is working. So\n     many hundred stock bricks, so many more fewer of the red or\n     wire-cut, such and such a quantity of sand, or timber, or\n     straw, or coal, or drain-pipes, or slates, according to\n     their kinds and sizes, will make as much as an average horse\n     can draw in this neighbourhood; but in London the loads are\n     bigger and the vehicles heavier; while in more hilly parts\n     (as you may see any day in the West Country) two horses are\n     put before a cart and load which the London carter would\n     deem hardly too much for a costermonger's donkey.\n\n     So it goes throughout civilization: there is not an industry\n     but produces its own special knowledge relating to\n     unclassified details of adjustment.[76]\n\nIt is this craft-knowledge and common professional feeling which is at\nthe basis of all associations of workpeople, from the semi-religious\nsocieties of ancient times, which met in secret to worship their\npatron-god--Hephaestos, the god of the metal-workers, or Asclepios, the\ngod of the doctors--through the great guilds of the Middle Ages to the\ntrade unions and professional organizations of to-day. Trade unions do\nnot exist simply to raise wages or to fight the capitalist, any more\nthan the British Medical Association exists simply to raise fees and to\nbargain with the Government. They exist to serve a professional need: to\nunite men who are doing the same work and to promote the welfare and\ndignity of that work. It is this which renders so difficult the problems\nof adjustment which arise owing to the introduction of new and\nunfamiliar processes. Professional associations are, and are bound to\nbe, conservative: their conservatism is honourable and to their credit:\nfor they are the transmitters of a great tradition. The problem in every\ncase is to ensure the progress necessary to the community without injury\nto that sense of 'fellowship in the mystery' on which the social spirit\nof the particular class of workmen depends. It is from this point of\nview that recent American proposals in the direction of 'scientific\nmanagement' are most open to criticism: for they involve the break-up of\nthe craft-spirit without setting anything comparable in its place. In\nfact, Mr. F. W. Taylor, one of the inventors of what is called the\n'system' of scientific management, frankly ignores or despises the\ncraft-spirit and proposes to treat the workman as a being incapable of\nunderstanding the principles underlying the practice of his art. He goes\nso far as to lay it down as a general principle that 'in almost all the\nmechanic arts the science which underlies each act of each workman is so\ngreat and amounts to so much that the workman who is best suited to\nactually doing the work is incapable of fully understanding this\nscience, without the guidance and help of those who are working with him\nor over him, either through lack of education or through insufficient\nmental capacity'.[77] Along the lines of this philosophy no permanent\nindustrial advance is possible. It may improve the product for a time,\nbut only at the cost of degrading the producer. If we are to make\nhappiness our test, and to stand by our definition of happiness as\ninvolving free activity, such a system, destructive as it is of any real\nor intense relationship between the workman and his work, stands\nself-condemned. If we are looking for _real_ industrial progress it is\nelsewhere that we must turn.\n\nThis leads us naturally on to the second great division of our subject:\nprogress in the methods of co-operation between man and man in doing\nindustrial work. For if man is a social animal his power to do his bit\nand his consequent happiness must be derived, in part at least, from his\nsocial environment. The lonely craftsman perfecting his art in the\nsolitude of a one-man workshop does not correspond with our industrial\nideal any more than the hermit or the monk corresponds with our general\nreligious ideal. It was the great apostle of craftsmanship, William\nMorris, who best set forth the social ideal of industry in his immortal\nsentence: 'Fellowship is Life and lack of Fellowship is Death.' Our\nstudy of the workman, then, is not complete when we have seen him with\nhis tools: we must see him also among his workmates. We must see\nindustry not simply as a process of production but as a form of\nassociation; and we must realize that the association of human beings\nfor the purpose of industrial work involves what is just as much a\nproblem of government as their association in the great political\ncommunity which we call the State.\n\nIt is difficult to see the record of the progress of industrial\ngovernment in clear perspective for the simple reason that the world is\nstill so backward as regards the organization of this side of its common\nlife. The theory and practice of industrial government is generations,\neven centuries, behind the theory and practice of politics. We are still\naccustomed in industry to attitudes of mind and methods of management\nwhich the political thought of the Western World has long since\ndiscarded as incompatible with its ideals. Two instances must suffice to\nillustrate this. It is constantly being said, both by employers and by\npoliticians, and even by writers in sympathy with working-class\naspirations, that all that the workman needs in his life is security.\nGive him work under decent conditions, runs the argument, with\nreasonable security of tenure and adequate guarantees against sickness,\ndisablement and unemployment, and all will be well. This theory of what\nconstitutes industrial welfare is, of course, when one thinks it out,\nsome six centuries out of date. It embodies the ideal of the old feudal\nsystem, but without the personal tie between master and man which\nhumanized the feudal relationship. Feudalism, as we saw in our study of\npolitical government, was a system of contract between the lord and the\nlabourer by which the lord and master ran the risks, set on foot the\nenterprises (chiefly military), and enjoyed the spoils, incidental to\nmediaeval life, while the labourer stuck to his work and received\nsecurity and protection in exchange. Feudalism broke down because it\ninvolved too irksome a dependence, because it was found to be\nincompatible with the personal independence which is the birthright of a\nmodern man. So it is idle to expect that the ideal of security will\ncarry us very far by itself towards the perfect industrial commonwealth.\n\nTake a second example of the wide gulf that still subsists between men's\nideas of politics and men's ideas of industry. It is quite common, even\nin these latter days, and among those who have freely sacrificed their\nnearest and dearest to the claims of the State, to hear manufacturers\nand merchants say that they have a 'right to a good profit'. The\nPresident of the Board of Trade remarked openly in the House of Commons\nafter many months of war that it was more than one could expect of human\nnature for coal-owners not to get the highest price they could. Such a\nstandpoint is not merely indecent: it is hopelessly out-of-date. Looked\nat from the political point of view it is a pure anachronism. There used\nto be times when men made large fortunes out of the service of\ngovernment, as men still make them out of the service of the community\nin trade and industry to-day. In the days of St. Matthew, when\ntax-gathering was let out by contract, the apostle's partners would\nprobably have declared, as Mr. Runciman does to-day, that it was more\nthan one could expect of human nature that a publican who had a\ngovernment contract for the collection of the taxes should not get all\nhe could out of the tax-payer. It is, indeed, little more than a century\nago since it was a matter of course in this country to look upon oversea\ncolonies merely as plantations--that is, as business investments rather\nthan as communities of human beings. The existence of Chartered Company\ngovernment marks a survival of this habit of mind. The old colonial\nsystem, which embodied this point of view, proved demoralizing not only\nto the home government but to the colonists, as a similar view is to the\nworking class, and it led to the loss of the American colonies as surely\nas a similar attitude on the part of employers leads to unrest and\nrebellion among workpeople to-day.\n\nWe have thus a long way to travel before the ideals of politics have\nbeen assimilated into the industrial life of the community and have\nfound fitting embodiment in its kindred and more complex problems. But\nat least we have reached a point where we can see what the problem of\nindustrial government is. We can say with assurance that a system which\ntreats human beings purely as instruments or as passive servants, and\natrophies their self-determination and their sense of individual and\ncorporate responsibility, is as far from perfection in industry as the\nRoman Empire was in politics. Renan's words about 'the intolerable\nsadness' incidental to such a method of organization apply with\nredoubled force to occupations which take up the best part of the day of\nthe mass of the working population. The bleak and loveless buildings,\nwith their belching chimneys, which arrest the eye of the thoughtful\ntraveller in the industrial districts of England are not prisons or\nworkhouses. But they often look as if they were, and they resemble them\nin this--that they too often stand for similarly authoritarian ideas of\ngovernment and direction. Industry is still an autocracy, as politics\nwas in the days before the supremacy of Parliament. Power still descends\nfrom above instead of springing from below. It is a power limited no\ndoubt by trade union action and parliamentary and administrative\ncontrol: but it is in essence as autocratic as the government of England\nused to be before the transference of sovereignty from the monarch to\nthe representatives of his subjects. It was recently announced in the\npress that Lord Rhondda had bought a group of Welsh collieries for 2\nmillions, and that as a result 'Lord Rhondda now controls over 3-1/2\nmillions of capital, pays 2-1/2 millions in wages every year, and is\nvirtually the dictator of the economic destiny of a quarter of a million\nminers. Rumours are also current', the extract continues, 'that Lord\nRhondda is extending his control over the press of Wales'.[78] The\nexistence of such power in this twentieth century in the hands of single\nindividuals, not selected from the mass for their special wisdom or\nhumanity, is a stupendous fact which must give pause to any one who is\ninclined to feel complacent about modern industrial progress. In days\ngone by political power was as irresponsible as the economic power\nwielded to-day by Lord Rhondda; and it descended from father to son by\nhereditary right in the same way as the control over the lives of\ncountless American workers descends to-day as a matter of course from\nJohn D. Rockefeller senior to John D. Rockefeller junior. If there is\nany reality at all in our political faith we must believe that a similar\ndevelopment towards self-government can and must take place in\nindustry. It may be that generations will elapse before the problems of\nindustrial government find a final and satisfactory constitutional\nsolution. But at least we can say that there is only one basis for that\nsolution which is compatible with a sound ideal of government, or indeed\nwith any reasoned view of morality or religion--the basis of individual\nand corporate freedom with its corresponding obligations of\nresponsibility and self-respect. No nation, as Abraham Lincoln said, can\nremain half-slave and half-free: and it was a greater than Lincoln who\nwarned us that we cannot serve both God and Mammon. It is this\nunderlying conflict of ideals in the organization of our existing\neconomic system which is the real cause of the 'Labour unrest' of which\nwe have heard so much in recent years.\n\nWith this warning in our minds as to the imperfections of our modern\nindustrial organization, let us briefly survey the record of the forms\nof economic association which preceded it.\n\nThe earliest form of industrial grouping is, of course, the family; and\nthe family, as we all know, still retains its primitive character in\nsome occupations as a convenient form of productive association. This is\nparticularly the case in agriculture in communities where peasant\nholdings prevail. But the family is so much more than an industrial\ngroup that it hardly falls to us to consider it further here.\n\nOutside the family proper, industrial work among primitive peoples is\noften carried on by slaves. It was a step forward in human progress when\nprimitive man found that it was more advantageous to capture his enemies\nthan to kill or eat them; and it was a still greater step forward when\nhe found that there was more to be got out of slaves by kind treatment\nthan by compulsion. This is not the place in which to go into the vexed\nquestions connected with various forms of slavery. Suffice it to say\nthat it is a profound mistake to dismiss the whole system in one\nundiscriminating condemnation. Slavery involves the denial of freedom,\nand as such it can never be good. But other systems besides slavery\nimplicitly involve the denial of freedom. Some of the finest artistic\nwork in the world has been done by slaves--and by slaves not working\nunder compulsion but in the company of free men and on terms of\nindustrial equality with them. This should serve to remind us that, in\njudging of systems of industry, we must look behind the letter of the\nlaw to the spirit of the times and of social institutions. Slavery at\nits best merges insensibly into wage-labour at its lower end. Many of\nthe skilled slaves of ancient Greece and Rome are hardly distinguishable\nin status from a modern workman bound by an unusually long and strict\nindenture and paid for his work not only in money but partly in truck.\nIn order to stimulate their productive capacity it was found necessary\nin Greece and Rome to allow skilled slaves to earn and retain\nmoney--although in the eye of the law they were not entitled to do so;\nand they were thus frequently in a position to purchase their own\nfreedom and become independent craftsmen. Slavery in the household and\nin small workshops is open to many and serious dangers, which need not\nbe particularized here; but the worst abuses of slavery have always\ntaken place where slaves have been easily recruited, as in the early\ndays of European contact with Africa, and when there were large openings\nfor their employment in gangs on work of a rough and unskilled\ncharacter. The problem of slavery in its worse forms is thus at bottom a\ncheap-labour problem analogous to that which confronts North America and\nSouth Africa to-day; and there is an essential difference which is often\nignored between the educated slave in a Roman Government office who did\nthe work of a First Division Civil Servant for his imperial master and\nhis compeer working in the fields of South Italy: and between the\nhousehold servants of a Virginian family and the plantation-slaves of\nthe farther South. Let us remember, in passing judgement on what is\nadmittedly an indefensible system, that during the war which resulted in\nthe freeing of the American slaves the slaveholders of the South trusted\ntheir household slaves to protect the women and children during their\nabsence from home and that that trust was nowhere betrayed. There is\nanother side to _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ as surely as there is another side\nto Mr. Carnegie's paean of modern industrialism in his _Triumphant\nDemocracy_.\n\nSystems of serfdom or caste which bind the workman to his work without\npermitting him to be sold like a slave may be regarded as one step\nhigher than slavery proper. Such systems are common in stable and\ncustom-bound countries, and persisted throughout the European Middle\nAges. We need not describe how the rising tide of change gradually broke\nup the system in this country and left the old-time villein a free but\noften a landless and property less man. The transition from serfdom to\nthe system of wage-labour which succeeded it was a transition from legal\ndependence to legal freedom, and as such it marked an advance. But it\nwas also a transition from a fixed and, as it were, a professional\nposition of service to the community to a blind and precarious\nindividualism. It was a transition, as Sir Henry Maine put it, from\nstatus to contract. This famous nineteenth-century aphorism is eloquent\nof the limitations of that too purely commercial age. Every thinking man\nwould admit to-day that status at its best is a better thing than\ncontract at its best--that the soldier is a nobler figure than the army\ncontractor, and that corporate feeling and professional honour are a\nbetter stimulus to right action than business competition and a laudable\nkeenness to give satisfaction to a valuable customer. We have always\nsuffered from the temptation in this country of adapting business\nmethods and ideals to politics rather than political ideals and methods\nto business. Our eighteenth-century thinkers explained citizenship\nitself, not as a duty to our neighbours but as the fulfilment of an\nunwritten contract. Our nineteenth-century legal writers elevated the\nidea of free contract almost to an industrial ideal; while, in somewhat\nthe same spirit, the gutter journalists of to-day, when they are at a\nloss for a popular watchword, call for a business government. Such\ntheories and battle-cries may serve for a 'nation of shopkeepers'; but\nthat opprobrious phrase has never been true of the great mass of the\nEnglish people, and it was never less true than to-day.\n\nThe idea of industrial work as the fulfilment of a contract, whether\nfreely or forcibly made, is thus essentially at variance with the ideal\nof community service. It is difficult for a man who makes his livelihood\nby hiring himself out as an individual for what he can get out of one\npiece of work after another to feel the same sense of community service\nor professional pride as the man who is serving a vocation and has\ndedicated his talents to some continuous and recognized form of work. It\nis this which makes the system of wage-labour so unsatisfactory in\nprinciple compared with the guilds of the town workmen in the Middle\nAges and with the organized professions of to-day; and it is this which\nexplains why trade unions of recent years have come to concern\nthemselves more and more with questions of status rather than of wages\nand to regard the occupation which they represent more and more as a\nprofession rather than a trade. No one has laid bare the deficiencies of\nthe wage-system more clearly than Adam Smith in the famous chapter in\nwhich he foreshadows the principle of collective bargaining. 'What are\nthe common wages of labour', he there remarks,[79]\n\n     'depends everywhere upon the contract usually made between\n     those two parties, whose interests are by no means the same.\n     The workmen desire to get as much, the masters to give as\n     little, as possible. The former are disposed to combine in\n     order to raise, the latter in order to lower, the wages of\n     labour.... We rarely hear, it has been said, of the\n     combinations of masters, though frequently of those of\n     workmen. But whoever imagines, upon this account, that\n     masters rarely combine is as ignorant of the world as of the\n     subject. Masters are always and everywhere in a sort of\n     tacit but constant and uniform combination not to raise the\n     wages of labour above their actual rate. To violate this\n     combination is everywhere a most unpopular action and a sort\n     of reproach to a master among his neighbours and equals. We\n     seldom, indeed, hear of this combination, because it is the\n     usual, and one may say, the natural state of things which\n     nobody ever hears of. Masters, too, sometimes enter into\n     particular combinations to sink the wages of labour even\n     below this rate. These are always conducted with the utmost\n     secrecy till the moment of execution; and, when the workmen\n     yield, as they sometimes do without resistance, though\n     severely felt by them, they are never heard of by other\n     people. Such combinations, however, are frequently resisted\n     by a contrary defensive combination of the workmen, who\n     sometimes, too, without any provocation of this kind,\n     combine of their own accord to raise the price of labour.\n     Their usual pretences are, sometimes the high price of\n     provisions, sometimes the great profit which their masters\n     make by their work.'\n\nThese words were written 140 years ago, but, as we all know, they are\nstill true of the working of the system to-day. Indeed the war has\nserved to emphasize their truth by showing us how deeply entrenched are\nthe habits of bargaining and of latent antagonism which the working of\nthe wage-system has engendered. It is the defect of the wage-system, as\nAdam Smith makes clear to us, that it lays stress on just those points\nin the industrial process where the interests of employers and\nworkpeople run contrary to one another, whilst obscuring those far more\nimportant aspects in which they are partners and fellow-workers in the\nservice of the community. This defect cannot be overcome by\nstrengthening one party to the contract at the expense of the other, by\ncrushing trade unions or dissolving employers' combinations, or even by\nestablishing the principle of collective bargaining. It can only be\novercome by the recognition on both sides that industry is in essence\nnot a matter of contract and bargaining at all, but of mutual\ninterdependence and community service: and by the growth of a new ideal\nof status, a new sense of professional pride and corporate duty and\nself-respect among all who are engaged in the same function. No one can\nsay how long it may take to bring about such a fundamental change of\nattitude, especially among those who have most to lose, in the material\nsense, by an alteration in the existing distribution of economic power.\nBut the war has cleared away so much of prejudice and set so much of our\nlife in a new light that the dim ideals of to-day may well be the\nrealities of to-morrow. This at least we can say: that no country in the\nworld is in a better position than we are to redeem modern industry from\nthe reproach of materialism and to set it firmly upon a spiritual basis,\nand that the country which shall first have had the wisdom and the\ncourage to do so will be the pioneer in a vast extension of human\nliberty and happiness and will have shown that along this road and no\nother lies the industrial progress of mankind.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\n1. _Economics_:\n\n   H. Clay, _Economics for the General Reader_. 1916.\n\n   Ruskin, _Unto this last_.\n\n   Smart, _Second Thoughts of an Economist_. 1916.\n\n2. _Man and his Tools_:\n\n   Marvin, _The Living Past_. 1913.\n\n   F. W. Taylor, _The Principles of Scientific Management_. 1911.\n\n   Hoxie, _Scientific Management and Labour_. 1916.\n\n3. _Industrial Government_:\n\n   Aristotle, _Politics_ (Book I, chapters on Slavery).\n\n   Zimmern, _The Greek Commonwealth_ (chapters on Slavery). 1911.\n\n   Ashley, _The Economic Organization of England_. 1914.\n\n   Unwin, _Industrial Organization in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth\n   Centuries_.\n\n   S. and B. Webb, _The History of Trade Unionism_.\n\n   Macgregor, _The Evolution of Industry_ (Home University Library).\n\n   Wallas, _The Great Society_. 1914.\n\n   G. D. H. Cole, _The World of Labour_. 1915.\n\n   _Round Table, June 1916 (Article on the Labour Movement and the\n   Future of British Industry)._\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[67] Including the well-being of the producers--a point which is too\noften overlooked.\n\n[68] On this point see _Poverty and Waste_, by Hartley Withers, 1914,\nwritten before the war, which has driven its lessons home.\n\n[69] _The Living Past_, pp. 20, 21.\n\n[70] _Second Thoughts of an Economist_, p. 89.\n\n[71] _Principles of Economics_, vol. i, p. 11. It is interesting to note\nthat in his latest book, _Inventors and Money-making, lectures on some\nrelations between Economics and Psychology_ (1915), Professor Taussig to\nsome extent goes back upon the point of view of the extract given above.\n\n[72] A similar inquiry on a much larger scale was made by Adolf\nLevinstein in his book _Die Arbeiterfrage_ (Munich, 1910). He examined\n4,000 workpeople, consisting of coalminers, cotton operatives, and\nengineers. With the exception of a few turners and fitters almost all\nreplied that they found little or no pleasure in their work.\n\n[73] _The Great Society_, p. 363.\n\n[74] Especially the wonderful results obtained from the young criminals\nat the Little Commonwealth in Dorsetshire.\n\n[75] See _Readings in Vocational Guidance_ by Meyer Bloomfield (Boston,\n1915).\n\n[76] _Lucy Bettesworth_, pp. 178-80, and 214-16.\n\n[77] This sentence is practically an unconscious paraphrase of a passage\nfrom Aristotle's defence of slavery.\n\n[78] _The Welsh Outlook_, August 1916, p. 272.\n\n[79] _Wealth of Nations_, Book I, ch. viii.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nPROGRESS IN ART\n\nA. CLUTTON BROCK\n\n\nIt is often said that there can be no such thing as progress in art. At\none time the arts flourish, at another they decay: but, as Whistler put\nit, art happens as men of genius happen; and men cannot make it happen.\nThey cannot discover what circumstances favour art, and therefore they\ncannot attempt to produce those circumstances. There are periods of\ncourse in which the arts, or some one particular art, progress. One\ngeneration may excel the last; through several generations an art may\nseem to be rushing to its consummation. This happened with Greek\nsculpture and the Greek drama in the sixth and fifth centuries; with\narchitecture and all kindred arts in western Europe in the twelfth and\nthirteenth centuries, and at the same time with many arts in China. It\nhappened with painting and sculpture in Italy in the fourteenth and\nfifteenth centuries, with literature in England in the sixteenth\ncentury, with music in Germany in the eighteenth century and the\nbeginning of the nineteenth. But in all these cases there followed a\ndecline, often quite unconscious at the time and one of which we cannot\ndiscover the causes. Attempts are made by historians of the arts to\nstate the causes; but they satisfy only those who make them, for they\nare, in fact, only statements of the symptoms of decline. They tell us\nwhat happened, not why it happened. And they all seem to point to two\nconclusions about the course of the arts, both of which would make us\ndespair of any settled progress in them. The first is that the practice\nof any art by any particular people always follows a certain natural\ncourse of growth, culmination, and decay. At least it always follows\nthis course where an art is practised naturally and therefore with\nsuccess. Art in fact, in its actual manifestations, is like the life of\nan individual human being and subject to inexorable natural laws. It is\nborn, as men are born, without the exercise of will; and in the same way\nit passes through youth, maturity, and old age. The second conclusion\nfollows from this, and it is that one nation or age cannot take up an\nart where another has left it. That is where art seems to differ from\nscience. The mass of knowledge acquired in one country can, if that\ncountry loses energy to apply or increase it, be utilized by another.\nBut we cannot so make use of the art of the Greeks or of the Italian\nRenaissance or of our own Middle Ages. In the Gothic revival we tried to\nmake use of the art of the Middle Ages and we failed disastrously. We\nimitated without understanding, and we could not understand because we\nwere not ourselves living in the Middle Ages. Art, in fact, is always a\ngrowth of its own time which cannot be transplanted, and no one can tell\nwhy it grows in one time and among one people and not in another.\n\nThat is what we are always told, and yet we never quite believe all of\nit. For, as art is a product of the human mind, it must also be a\nproduct of the human will, unless it is altogether unconscious like a\ndream. But that it is not; for men produce it in their waking hours and\nwith the conscious exercise of their faculties. If a man paints a\npicture he does so because he wants to paint one. He exercises will and\nchoice in all his actions, and the man who buys a picture does the same.\nWe talk of inspiration in the arts as something that cannot be\ncommanded, but there is also inspiration in the sciences. No man can\nmake a scientific discovery by the pure exercise of his will. It jumps\ninto one mind and not into another just like an artistic inspiration.\nAnd further we are taught and trained in the arts as in the sciences;\nand success in both depends a great deal upon the nature of the\ntraining. In both good training will not give genius or inspiration to\nthose who are without it; but it will enable those who possess it to\nmake the most of it; and, what is more, it will enable even the mediocre\nto produce work of some value. What strikes us most about the Florentine\nschool of painting of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries is the fact\nthat its second-rate painters are so good, that we can enjoy their works\neven when they are merely imitative. But the Florentine school excelled\nall others of the time in its teaching; most painters of other schools\nin Italy learnt from Florence; and the inspiration came to them from\nFlorence, they were quickened from Florence, however much their art kept\nits own natural character. But this school which had the best teaching\nalso produced the most painters of genius. Its level was higher and its\nheights were higher; and for this reason, that the whole Florentine\nintellect went both into the teaching and into the practice of painting\nand sculpture. The Florentine was able to put all his mind, the\nscientific faculties as well as the aesthetic, into his art. He never\nrelied merely on his temperament or his mood. He was eager for\nknowledge. It was not enough for him to paint things as he saw them; he\ntried to discover how they were made, what were the laws of their growth\nand construction; and his knowledge of these things changed the\ncharacter of his vision, made him see the human body, for instance, as\nno mediaeval artist had ever seen it; made him see it as an engineer\nsees a machine. Just as an engineer sees more in a machine than a man\nwho does not understand its working, so the Florentine saw more in the\nhuman body than a mediaeval artist. He saw it with a scientific as well\nas an aesthetic passion, and all this science of his enriched his art so\nthat there has never since been drawing like the Florentine, drawing at\nonce so logical and so expressive.\n\nThe Florentines in fact did exercise their will upon their art more than\nany other modern artists, more, perhaps, than any other artists known to\nus, and their painting and sculpture were the greatest of the modern\nworld. Yet the fact remains that Florentine art declined suddenly and\nirresistibly, and that all the Florentine intellect, which still\nremained remarkable and produced men of science like Galileo, could not\narrest that decline. Indeed the Florentines themselves seem not to have\nbeen conscious of it. They thought that the dull imitators of\nMichelangelo were greater than his great predecessors. As we say, their\ntaste became bad, their values were perverted; and with that perversion\nall their natural genius for the arts was wasted. To this day Carlo\nDolci is the favourite painter of the ordinary Florentine. He was a man\nof some ability, and he painted pictures at once feeble and revolting\nbecause he himself and his public liked such pictures.\n\nThere is no accounting for tastes, we say, and in saying that we despair\nof progress in the arts. For it is ultimately this unaccountable thing\ncalled taste, and not the absence or presence of genius, which\ndetermines whether the arts shall thrive or decay in any particular age\nor country. People often say that they know nothing about art, but that\nthey do know what they like; and what they imply is that there is\nnothing to be known about art except your own likes and dislikes, and\nfurther that no man can control those. The Florentines of the\nseventeenth century happened to like Carlo Dolci, where the Florentines\nof the fifteenth had liked Botticelli. That is the only explanation we\ncan give of the decline of Florentine painting.\n\nIt is of course no explanation; and because no explanation beyond it has\nbeen given, we are told that there can be no such thing as progress in\nthe arts. That is the lesson of history. We are far beyond the Egyptians\nin science, but certainly not beyond them in art. Indeed one might say\nthat there has been a continual slow decline in all the arts of Europe,\nexcept music, since the year 1500, and that music itself has been slowly\ndeclining since the death of Beethoven. But with this slow inexorable\ndecline of the arts there has been a great advance in nearly everything\nelse, in knowledge, in power, even in morality. Upon everything man has\nbeen able to exercise his will except upon the arts. Where he has really\nwished for progress there he has got it, except in this one case.\nTherefore it seems that upon the arts he cannot exercise his will, and\nthat they alone of all his activities are not capable of progress. What\ndo we mean by progress except the successful exercise of the human will\nin a right direction? That is what distinguishes progress from natural\ngrowth; that alone can preserve it from natural processes of decay.\nThere are people who say that it does not exist, that everything which\nhappens to man is a natural process of growth or decay. Whether that is\nso or not, we do mean by progress something different from these natural\nprocesses. When we speak of it we do imply the exercise of the human\nwill, man's command over circumstances; and those who deny progress\naltogether deny that man has any will or any command over circumstances.\nFor them things happen to man and that is all, it is not man's will that\nmakes things happen. But if we use the word progress at all, we imply\nthat it is man's will that makes things happen. And since man is\nevidently liable to decline as well as progress, it follows that if we\nbelieve man to be capable of exercising his will in a right direction we\nmust also believe that he can and does exercise it in a wrong direction.\nI assume that man has this power both for good and for evil. If I did\nnot, I should not be addressing you upon the question whether man is\ncapable of progress in the arts, but upon the question whether he is\ncapable of progress at all. And I should be trying to prove that he is\nnot.\n\nAs it is, the question I have to discuss is whether he has the power of\nexercising for good or evil his will upon the arts as upon other things;\nand hitherto I have been giving you certain facts in the history of the\narts which seem to prove that he is not. They all amount to this--that\nman has not hitherto succeeded in exercising his will upon the arts;\nthat he has not produced good art because he wished to produce it. We,\nfor instance, wish to excel in the arts; we have far more power than the\nancient Greeks or Egyptians; but we have not been able to apply that\npower to the arts. In them we are conscious of a strange impotence. We\ncannot build like our forefathers of the Middle Ages, we cannot make\nfurniture like our great-grandfathers of the eighteenth century. Go into\nan old churchyard and look at the tombstones of the past and present.\nYou will see that the lettering is always fine up to the first\ngeneration of the nineteenth century. In that generation there is a\nrapid decline; and since about 1830 there has been no decent lettering\nupon tombstones except what has been produced in the last ten years or\nso by the conscious effort of a few individual artists of great natural\ntalent and high training. If I want good lettering on a tombstone I have\nto employ one of these artists and to pay him a high price for his\ntalent and his training. But that is only one example of a universal\ndecline in all the arts of use, a decline which happened roughly between\nthe years 1800 and 1830. And the significant fact about it is that when\nit happened no one was aware of it. So far as I know, this artistic\ncatastrophe, far the swiftest and most universal known to us in the\nwhole course of history, was never even mentioned in contemporary\nliterature. The poets, the lovers of beauty, did not speak of it. They\ntalked about nature, not about art. There is not a hint of it in the\nletters of Shelley or Keats. There is just a hint of it in some sayings\nof Blake; but that is all. One would suppose that such a catastrophe\nwould have filled the minds of all men who were not entirely occupied\nwith the struggle for life, that all would have seen that a glory was\npassing away from the earth, and would have made some desperate struggle\nto preserve it. But, as I say, they saw nothing of it. They were not\naware that a universal ugliness was taking the place of beauty in all\nthings made by man; and therefore the new ugliness must have pleased\nthem as much as the old beauty. So it appears once again that there is\nno accounting for tastes, and no test that we can apply to them. When\nscience declines, men at least know that they have less power. They are\nmore subject to pestilence when they forget medicine and sanitation;\ntheir machines become useless to them when they no longer know how to\nwork them; there is anarchy when they lose their political goodwill. But\nwhen their taste decays they do not know that it has decayed. And with\nit decays their artistic capacity, so that, quite complacently, they\nlose the power of doing decently a thousand things that their fathers\ndid excellently.\n\nBut here suddenly I am brought to a stop by a new fact in human history.\nThe arts have declined, but our complacency over their decline has\nceased. The first man who disturbed it was Ruskin. It was he who saw\nthe catastrophe that had happened. Suddenly he was aware of it; suddenly\nhe escaped from the universal tyranny of the bad taste of his time. He\nwas the first to deny that there was no accounting for tastes; the first\nto deny, indeed, that the ordinary man did know what he liked. And he\nwas followed with more knowledge and practical power, in fact with more\nscience, by William Morris. What both of these great men really said was\nthat taste is not unaccountable; that the mass of men do not know what\nthey like, that they do not apply their intellect and will to what they\nsuppose to be their likes and dislikes, and that they could apply their\nintellect and will to these things if they chose.\n\nWhen we say that there is no accounting for tastes we imply that tastes\nare always real, that, whether good or bad, they happen to men without\nany exercise of their will. But Ruskin and Morris implied that we must\nexercise our will and our intelligence to discover what our tastes\nreally are; that this discovery is not at all easy, but that, if we do\nnot make it, we are at the mercy, not of our own real tastes, but of an\nunreal thing which is called the public taste, or of equally unreal\nreactions against it. We think that we like what we suppose other people\nto like, and these other people too think that they like what no one\nreally likes. Or in mere blind reaction we think that we dislike what\nthe mob likes. But in either case our likes and dislikes are not ours at\nall and, what is more, they are no one's. Taste in fact is bad because\nit is not any one's taste, because no one's will is exercised in it or\nupon it. When it is good, it is always real taste, that is to say some\nreal person's taste. In the work of art the artist does what he really\nlikes to do and expresses some real passion of his own, not some passion\nwhich he believes that he, as an artist, ought to express. Art, said\nMorris, is the expression of the workman's pleasure in his work. It\ncannot be real art unless it is a real pleasure. And so the public will\nnot demand real art unless they too take a real pleasure in it. If they\ndo not know what they really like, they will not demand of the artist\nwhat they really like or what he really likes. They will demand\nsomething tiresome and insincere, and by the tyranny of their demand\nwill set him to produce it.\n\nThat was what happened at the beginning of the nineteenth century in\nnearly all the arts and especially in the arts of use. It had happened\nbefore in different ages and countries, especially in painting,\nsculpture, architecture, and the arts of use as they were patronized by\nthe vulgar rich, such as the court of Louis XV. But now it happened\nsuddenly and universally to all arts. There were no longer vulgar rich\nonly but also vulgar poor and vulgar middle-classes. Everywhere there\nspread a kind of aesthetic snobbery which obscured real tastes. Of this\nI will give one simple and homely example. The beautiful flowers of the\ncottage garden were no longer grown in the gardens of the well-to-do,\nbecause they were the flowers of the poor. Instead were grown lobelias,\ngeraniums, and calceolarias, combined in a hideous mixture, not because\nany one thought them more beautiful, but because, since they were grown\nin green-houses, they implied the possession of green-houses and so of\nwealth. They did not, of course, even do that, since they could be\nbought very cheaply from nurserymen. They implied only the bad taste of\nsnobbery which is the absence of all real taste. For it is physically\nimpossible for any one to like such a combination of plants better than\nlarkspurs and lilies and roses. What they did enjoy was not the flowers\nthemselves but their association with gentility. But so strong was the\ncontagion of this association that cottagers themselves began to throw\naway their beautiful cottage-garden flowers and to grow these plants, so\ndetestable in combination. And to this day one can see often in cottage\ngardens pathetic imitations of a taste that never was real and which now\nis discredited among the rich, so that a border of lobelias,\ncalceolarias, and geraniums has become a mark of social inferiority as\nit was once one of social superiority. But what it never was and never\ncould be was an expression of a genuine liking.\n\nNow I owe the very fact that I am able to give this account of a simple\nperversion of taste to Ruskin and Morris. It was they who first made the\nworld aware that its taste was perverted and that most of its art was\ntherefore bad. It was they who filled us with the conviction of artistic\nsin, and who also in a manner entirely scientific tried to discover what\nwas the nature of this sin and how it had come about. First Ruskin\ntentatively, and afterwards Morris systematically and out of his own\nvast artistic experience, connected this decay of the arts with certain\nsocial conditions. It was not merely that taste had decayed or that the\narts had developed to a point beyond which there was nothing for them\nbut decline. Morris insisted that there were causes for the decay of\ntaste and the decline of the arts, causes as much subject to the will of\nman as the causes of any kind of social decay or iniquity. He insisted\nthat a work of art is not an irrational mystery, not something that\nhappens and may happen well or ill; but that all art is intimately\nconnected with the whole of our social well-being. It is in fact an\nexpression of what we value, and if we value noble things it will be\nnoble, if we pretend to value base things it will be base.\n\nWhistler said that this was not so. He insisted that genius is born, not\nmade, and that some peoples have artistic capacity, some have not. Now\nit is true that nations vary very much in their artistic capacity and in\nthe strength of their desire to produce art. But even the nations which\nhave little artistic capacity and little desire to produce art have in\ntheir more primitive state produced charming works of real art. Whistler\ngave the case of the Swiss as an excellent people with little capacity\nfor art. But the old Swiss chalets are full of character and beauty, and\nthere are churches in Switzerland which have all the beauty of the\nMiddle Ages. The cuckoo clocks and other Swiss articles of commerce\nwhich Whistler despised are contemptible, not because they are Swiss,\nbut because they are tourist trash produced by workmen who express no\npleasure of their own in them for visitors who buy them only because\nthey think they are characteristic of Switzerland. They are, in fact,\nnot the expression of any genuine taste or liking whatever, like the\ntourist trash that is sold in the Rue de Rivoli. Probably the Swiss\nwould never be capable of producing works of art like Chartres Cathedral\nor Don Giovanni, but they have in the past possessed a genuine and\ndelightful art of their own like nearly every European nation in the\nMiddle Ages.\n\nSo, though genius is born, it is also made, and though nations differ in\nartistic capacity, they all have some artistic capacity so long as they\nknow what they like and express only their own liking in their art, so\nlong as they are not infected with artistic snobbism or commercialism.\nThis we know now, and we have developed a new and remarkable power of\nseeing and enjoying all the genuine art of the past. This power is part\nof the historical sense which is itself modern. In the past, until the\nnineteenth century, very few people could see any beauty or meaning in\nany art of the past that did not resemble the art of their own time and\ncountry. The whole art of the Middle Ages, for instance, was thought to\nbe merely barbarous until the Gothic revival, and so was the art of all\nthe past so far as it was known, except the later art of Greece and\nRome. For our ancestors' taste did indeed happen as art happened, and\nthey could not escape from the taste which circumstances imposed on\nthem; any art that was not according to that taste was for them as it\nwere in an unknown tongue. But we have made this great progress in\ntaste, at least, if not in the production of art, that we can understand\nnearly all artistic languages, and that what used to be called classical\nart has lost its old superstitious prestige for us. Not only can we\nenjoy the art of our own Middle Ages; but many of us can enjoy and\nunderstand just as well the great art of Egypt and China, and can see as\nclearly when that art is good or bad as if it were of our own time. We\nhave, in fact, in the matter of artistic appreciation gained the freedom\nof all the ages, and this is a thing that has never, so far as we know,\nhappened before in the history of the human mind.\n\nBut still this freedom of all the ages has not enabled us to produce a\ngreat art of our own. There are some, indeed, who think that it has\nhindered us from doing so, that we are becoming merely universal\nconnoisseurs who can criticize anything and produce nothing. We have the\nmost wonderful museums that ever were, and the most wonderful power of\nenjoying all that is in them, but, with all our riches from the past,\nour present is barren; and it is barren because our rich men would\nrather pay great prices for past treasures than encourage artists to\nproduce masterpieces now. If that is so, if that is all that is coming\nto us from our freedom of all the ages, there is certainly not progress\nin it. Better that we should produce and enjoy the humblest genuine art\nof our own than that we should continue in this learned impotence.\n\nBut this power of enjoying the art of all ages, though it certainly has\nhad some unfortunate results, must be good in itself. It is sympathy,\nand that is always better than indifference or antipathy. It is\nknowledge, and that is always better than ignorance. And we have to\nremember that it has existed only for a short time and is, therefore,\nnot yet to be judged by its fruits. We are still gasping at all the\nartistic treasures of the past that have been revealed to us like a new\nworld; and still they are being revealed to our new perceptions. Only in\nthe last ten years, for instance, have we discovered that Chinese\npainting is the rival of Italian, or that the golden age of Chinese\npottery was centuries before the time of that Chinese porcelain which we\nhave hitherto admired so much. The knowledge, the delight, is still\nbeing gathered in with both hands. It is too soon to look for its\neffects upon the mind of Europe.\n\nBut it is not the result of mere barren connoisseurship or\nscholasticism. Rather it is a new renaissance, a new effort of the human\nspirit, and an effort after what? An effort to exert the human will in\nthe matter of art far more consciously than it has exerted ever before.\nIt is to be noted that Morris himself, the man who first told us that we\nmust exert our wills in art, was also himself eager in the discovery and\nenjoyment of all kinds of art in the past. He had his prejudices, the\nprejudices of a very wilful man and a working artist. 'What can I see in\nRome,' he said, 'that I cannot see in Whitechapel?' But he enjoyed the\nart of most ages and countries more than he enjoyed his prejudices. He\nhad the historical sense in art to a very high degree. He knew what the\nartist long dead meant by his work as if it were a poem in his own\nlanguage, and from the art of the past which he loved he saw what was\nwrong with the art of our time. So did Ruskin and so do many now.\nFurther we are not in the least content to admire the art of the past\nwithout producing any of our own. There is incessant restless\nexperiment, incessant speculation about aesthetics, incessant effort to\napply them to the actual production of art, in fact to exert the\nconscious human will upon art as it has never been exerted before.\n\nSo, if one wished in a sentence to state the peculiarity of the last\ncentury in the history of art, one would say that it is the first age in\nwhich men have rebelled against the process of decadence in art, in\nwhich they have been completely conscious of that process and have tried\nto arrest it by a common effort of will. We cannot yet say that that\neffort has succeeded, but we cannot say either that it has failed. We\nmay be discontented with the art of our own time, but at least we must\nallow that it is, with all its faults, extravagances, morbidities and\nblind experiments, utterly unlike the art of any former age of decadence\nknown to us. There may be confusion and anarchy, but there is not mere\npedantry and stagnation. Artists perhaps are over-conscious, always\nfollowing some new prophet, but at least there is the conviction of sin\nin them, which is exactly what all the decadent artists of the past have\nlacked.\n\nThe artistic decadence of the past which is most familiar to us is that\nof the later Graeco-Roman art. It was a long process which began at\nleast as early as the age of Alexander and continued until the fall of\nthe Western Roman Empire and afterwards, until, indeed, the decadent\nclassical art was utterly supplanted by the art which we call Romanesque\nand Byzantine, and which seems to us now at its best to be as great as\nany art that has ever been.\n\nBut a hundred years ago this Romanesque and Byzantine art was thought to\nbe only a barbarous corruption of the classical art. For then the\nclassical art even in its last feebleness still kept its immense and\nunique prestige. Shelley said that the effect of Christianity seemed to\nhave been to destroy the last remains of pure taste, and he said this\nwhen he had been looking at the great masterpieces of Byzantine mosaic\nat Ravenna. Now we know with an utter certainty that he was wrong. He\nwas himself a great artist, but to him there was only one rational and\nbeautiful and civilized art, and that was the decadent Graeco-Roman art.\nTo him works like the Apollo Belvedere were the masterpieces of the\nworld, and all other art was good as it resembled them. He and in fact\nmost people of his time were still overawed by the immense complacency\nof that art. They had not the historical sense at all. They had no\nnotion of certain psychological facts about art which are now familiar\nto every educated man. They did not know that art cannot be good unless\nit expresses the character of the people who produce it; that\ncharacterless art, however accomplished, is uninteresting; that there\nmay be more life and so more beauty in the idol of an African savage\nthan in the Laocoon.\n\nThis later Greek and Graeco-Roman art was doomed to inevitable decay\nbecause of its immense complacency. The artists had discovered, as they\nthought, the right way to produce works of art, and they went on\nproducing them in that way without asking themselves whether they meant\nanything by them or whether they enjoyed them. They knew, in fact, what\nwas the proper thing to do just as conventional people now know what is\nthe proper thing to talk about at a tea party; and their art was as\nuninteresting as the conversation of such people. In both the talk and\nthe art there is no expression of real values and so no expression of\nreal will. The past lies heavy upon both. So people have talked, so\nartists have worked, and so evidently people must talk and artists must\nwork for evermore.\n\nNow we have been threatened with just the same kind of artistic\ndecadence, and we are still threatened with it; so that it would be very\neasy to argue that, when men reach a certain stage in that organization\nof their lives which we call civilization, they must inevitably fall\ninto artistic decadence. The Roman Empire did attain to a high stage of\nsuch organization, and all the life went out of its art. We have reached\nperhaps a still higher or at least more elaborate stage of it, and the\nlife has gone or is going out of our art. It has become even more\nmechanical than the Graeco-Roman. We, too, have lost the power of\nexpressing ourselves, our real values, our real will, in it; and we had\nbetter submit to that impotence and not make a fuss about it. Indeed art\nreally is an activity proper to a more childish stage of the human mind,\nand we shall do well not to waste our time and energy upon it. That is\nthe only way in which we can be superior to the Graeco-Roman world in\nthe matter of art. We can give it up altogether or rather put it all\ninto museums as a curiosity of the past to be studied for historical and\nscientific purposes.\n\nBut I have only to say that to prove that we will not be contented with\nsuch a counsel of despair. The Romans went on producing art, even if it\nwas bad art, and we shall certainly go on producing art whether it is\ngood or bad. We have produced an immense mass of bad art, worse perhaps\nthan any that the Roman world produced. But there is this difference\nbetween us and the Romans, that we are not content with it. We have the\nconviction of artistic sin and they had not. Therefore we do not think\nthat their example need make us despair. They were not exercising their\nwill on their art. It was to them what a purely conventional morality is\nto a morally decadent people. It went from bad to worse, just as\nconventional morals do, when no man arises and says: 'This is wrong,\nalthough you think it right. I know what is right from my own sense of\nvalues, and I will do it in spite of you.' So far as we know, there were\nno rebels of that kind in the art of the Graeco-Roman world. But our\nworld of art is full of such rebels and has been ever since the artistic\ndebacle at the beginning of the nineteenth century. In fact the chief\nand the unique characteristic of the art of the last hundred years has\nbeen the constant succession of artistic rebels. All our greatest\nartists have been men who were determined to exercise their own wills in\ntheir art, whatever the mass of men might think of it. And what has\nalways happened is that they have been first bitterly abused and then\npassionately praised. This, so far as I know, has never happened before.\nThere have been rebel artists like Rembrandt, but only a few of them.\nMost great artists before the nineteenth century have been admired in\ntheir own time. But in the nineteenth century, and more and more towards\nthe end of it, the great artists have had to conquer the world with\ntheir rebellion, they have had to exercise their own individual wills\nagainst the common convention. And it seems to us now the mark of the\ngreat artist so to exercise his individual will, so to rebel and conquer\nthe world with his rebellion, even if he kills himself in the process.\nThink of Constable and even Turner, of our pre-Raphaelites, and above\nall of nearly all the great French artists, of Millet, of Manet, of\nCezanne, Gauguin, of Rodin himself, who has conquered the world now, but\nonly in his old age. Think of Beethoven, of Schubert, of Wagner, and of\nall the rebel musicians of to-day. But in the past the great artists,\nMichelangelo, Titian, even the great innovator Giorgione; Mozart, Bach,\nHandel; none of these were thought of as rebels. They had not to conquer\nthe world against its will. They came into the world, and the world\nknew them. So, we may be sure, the decadent artists of the Graeco-Roman\nworld were not rebels. There they were like Michelangelo and Raphael, if\nthey were like them in nothing else. If they had been rebels we might\nnot yawn at their works now.\n\nNow, clearly, this rebellion is not so good a thing as the harmony\nbetween the artist and his public which has prevailed in all great ages\nof art. But it is better than the harmony of dull and complacent\nconvention which prevailed in the Graeco-Roman decadence. For it means\nthat our artists are not content with such complacence, that they will\nnot accept decadence as an inevitable process. And the fact that we do\npassionately admire them for their rebellion as soon as we understand\nwhat it means, that this rebellion seems to us a glorious and heroic\nthing, is a proof that we, the public, also are not content to sink into\nthe Graeco-Roman complacency. We may stone our prophets at first, but\nlike the Hebrews, we produce prophets as well as priests, that is to say\nacademicians. And we treasure their works as the Hebrews treasured the\nbooks of the prophets.\n\nArt, in fact, is a human activity in which we try to exercise our wills.\nWe are aware that it is threatened with decadence by the mere process of\nour civilization, that it is much more difficult for us to produce\nliving art than it was for our forefathers of the Middle Ages. But still\nwe are not content to produce dead art. Half unconsciously we are making\nthe effort to exercise our wills upon our art, as upon our science, our\nmorals, our politics, to avoid decadence in art as we try to avoid it in\nother human activities; and this effort is the great experiment, the\npeculiar feature, of the art of the last century.\n\nIt is an effort not merely aesthetic but also intellectual. There is a\ngreat interest in aesthetics and a constant and growing effort to\ncharge them with actual experience and to put them to some practical\nend. In the past they have been the most backward, the most futile and\nbarren, kind of philosophy because men wrote about them who had never\nreally experienced works of art and who saw no connexion between their\nphilosophy and the production of works of art. They talked about the\nnature of the beautiful, as schoolmen talked about the nature of God.\nAnd they knew no more about the nature of the beautiful from their own\nexperience of it than schoolmen knew about the nature of God. But now\nmen are interested in the beautiful because they miss it so much in the\npresent works of men and because they so passionately desire it; and\ntheir speculation has the aim of recovering it. So aesthetics, whatever\nsome artists in their peculiar and pontifical narrowness may say, is of\ngreat importance now; they are part of the effort which the modern world\nis making to exercise its will in the production of works of art, and\nthey are bound, if that effort is successful, to have more and more\neffect upon that production.\n\nBut is that effort going to be successful? That is a question which no\none can answer yet. But my object is to insist that in our age, because\nof its effort, an effort which has never been made so consciously and\nresolutely before, there is a possibility of a progress in art of the\nsame nature as progress in other human activities. If we can escape from\nwhat has seemed to some men this inexorable process of decadence in art,\nwe shall have accomplished one of the greatest achievements of the human\nwill. We shall have redeemed art from the tyranny of mere fate.\n\nWhat we have to do now is to understand what it is that causes decadence\nin art, we have to apply a conscious science to the production of it. We\nhave to see what are the social causes that produce excellence and\ndecay in it. And we have made a great beginning in this. For we are all\naware that art is not an isolated thing, that it does not merely happen,\nas Whistler said. We know that it is a symptom of something right or\nwrong with the whole mind of man and with the circumstances that affect\nthat mind. We know at last that there is a connexion between the art of\nman and his intellect and his conscience. It was because William Morris\nsaw that connexion that he, from being a pure artist, became a socialist\nand spoke at street corners. Such a change, such a waste and perversion\nas it seemed to many, would have been impossible in any former age. It\nwas possible and inevitable, it was a natural process for Morris in the\nnineteenth century, because he was determined to exercise his will upon\nart, just as men in the past had exercised their will upon religion or\npolitics; because he no longer believed that art happened as the weather\nhappens and that the artist is a charming but irresponsible child swayed\nmerely by the caprices of his own private subconsciousness. Was he right\nor wrong? I myself firmly believe that he was right. That if man has a\nwill at all, if he is not a mere piece of matter moulded by\ncircumstances, he has a will in art as in all other things. And,\nfurther, if he has a common will which can express itself in his other\nactivities, in religion or politics, that common will must also be able\nto express itself in art. It has not hitherto done so consciously,\nbecause man in all periods of artistic success has been content to\nsucceed without asking why he succeeded, and in all periods of artistic\nfailure he has been content to fail without asking why he has failed. We\nhave been for long living in a period of artistic failure, but we have\nasked, we are asking always more insistently, why we fail. And that is\nwhere our time differs from any former period of artistic decadence,\nwhy, I believe, it is not a period of decadence but one of experiment,\nand of experiment which will not be wasted, however much it may seem at\nthe moment to fail. But if out of all this conscious effort and\nexperiment we do arrest the process of decadence, if we do pass from\nfailure to success, then we shall have accomplished a progress in art\nsuch as has never been accomplished before even in the greatest ages.\nFor whereas men have never been able to learn from the experience of\nthose ages, whereas the Greeks and the men of the thirteenth century\nhave not taught men how to avoid decadence in art, we and our children\nwill teach them how to avoid it. We shall then have given a security to\nart such as it has never enjoyed before; and we shall do that by\napplying science to it, by using the conscious intelligence upon it.\n\nWe may fail, of course, but even so our effort will not have been in\nvain. And some future age in happier circumstances may profit by it, and\nachieve that progress, that application of science to art, which we are\nnow attempting.\n\nMany people, especially artists, tell us that the attempt is a mere\nabsurdity. But ignorance even about art need not be eternal. Ignorance\nis eternal only when it is despairing or contented. Twenty years ago\nmany people said that men never would be able to fly, yet they are\nflying now because they were resolved to fly. So we are more and more\nresolved to have great art. Every year we feel the lack of it more and\nmore. Every year more people exercise their wills more and more\nconsciously in the effort to achieve it. This, I repeat, has never\nhappened before in the history of the world. And the consequence is that\nour art, what real art we have, is unlike any that there has been in the\nworld before. It is so strange and so rebellious that we ourselves are\nshocked and amazed by it. Much of it, no doubt, is merely strange and\nrebellious, as much of early Christianity was merely strange and\nrebellious and so provoked the resentment and persecution of\nself-respecting pagans. Every great effort of the human mind attracts\nthose who merely desire their own salvation, and so it is with the\nartistic effort now. There are cubists and futurists and\npost-impressionists who are as silly as human beings can be, because\nthey hope to attain to artistic salvation by rushing to extremes. They\nare religious egotists, in fact, and nothing can be more disagreeable\nthan a religious egotist. But there were no doubt many of them among the\nearly Christians. Yet Christianity was a great creative religious effort\nwhich came because life and truth had died out of the religions of the\npast, and men could not endure to live without life and truth in their\nreligion. So now they cannot endure to live without life and truth in\ntheir art. They are determined to have an art which shall express all\nthat they have themselves experienced of the beauty of the universe,\nwhich shall not merely utter platitudes of the past about that beauty.\n\nSo far perhaps there is little but the effort at expression, an effort\nstrange, contorted, self-conscious. You can say your worst about it and\nlaugh at all its failures. Yet they are failures different in kind from\nthe artistic failures of the past, for they are failures of the\nconscious will, not of mere complacency. And it is such failures in all\nhuman activities that prepare the way for successes.\n\nLet us remember then, always, that art is a human activity, not a fairy\nchance that happens to the mind of man now and again. And let us\nremember, too, that it does not consist merely of pictures or statues or\nof music performed in concert-rooms. It is, indeed, rather a quality of\nall things made by man, a quality that may be good or bad but which is\nalways in them. That is one of the facts about art that was discovered\nin the nineteenth century, when men began to miss the excellence of art\nin all their works and to wish passionately that its excellence might\nreturn to them. And this discovery which was then made about art was of\nthe greatest practical importance. For then men became aware that they\ncould not have good pictures or architecture or sculpture unless the\nquality of art became good again in all their works. So much they learnt\nabout the science of art. They began, or some of them did, to think\nabout their furniture and cottages and pots and pans and spoons and\nforks, and even about their tombstones, as well as about what had been\ncalled their works of art. And in all these humbler things an advance, a\nconscious resolute wilful advance, has been made. We begin to see when\nand also why spoons and forks and pots and pans are good or bad. We are\nless at the mercy of chance or blind fashion in such things than our\nfathers were. We know our vulgarity and the naughtiness of our own\nhearts. The advance, the self-knowledge, is not general yet, but it\ngrows more general every year and the conviction of sin spreads. No\ndoubt, like all conviction of sin, it often produces unpleasant results.\nThe consciously artistic person often has a more irritating house than\nhis innocently philistine grandfather had. So, no doubt, many simple\npagan people were much nicer than those early Christians who were out\nfor their own salvation. But there was progress in Christianity and\nthere was none in paganism.\n\nThe title of this book is _Progress and History_, and it may justly be\ncomplained that the progress of which I have been talking is not\nhistoric, but a progress that has not yet happened and may never happen\nat all. But that I think is a defect of my particular branch of the\nsubject. Progress in art, if progress is anything more than a natural\nprocess of growth to be followed inevitably by a natural process of\ndecay, has never yet happened in art; but there is now an effort to make\nit happen, an effort to exercise the human will in art more completely\nand consciously than it has ever been exercised before. Therefore I\ncould do nothing but attempt to describe that effort and to speculate\nupon its success.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nPROGRESS IN SCIENCE\n\nF.S. MARVIN\n\n\n    'L'Esprit travaillant sur les donnees de l'experience.'\n\nThe French phrase, neater as usual than our own, may be taken as the\nstarting-point in our discussion. We shall put aside such questions as\nwhat an experience is, or how much the mind itself supplies in each\nexperience, or what, if anything, is the not-mind upon which the mind\nworks. We must leave something for the chapter on philosophy; and the\npresent chapter is primarily historical. Having defined what we mean by\nscience, we are to consider at what stage in history the working of the\nmind on experience can be called scientific, in what great strides\nscience has leapt forward since its definite formation, and in what ways\nthis growth of science has affected general progress, both by its action\non the individual and on the welfare and unity of mankind.\n\nOur French motto must be qualified in order to give us precision in our\ndefinition and a starting-point in history for science in the strict\nsense. In a general sense the action of the mind upon the given in\nexperience has been going on from the beginning of animal life. But\nscience, strictly so-called, does not appear till men have been\ncivilized and settled in large communities for a considerable time. We\ncannot ascribe 'science' to the isolated savage gnawing bones in his\ncave, though the germs are there, in every observation that he makes of\nthe world around him and every word that he utters to his mates. But we\nmay begin to speak of science when we reach those large and ordered\nsocieties which are found in the great river-basins and sedentary\ncivilizations of East and West, especially in Egypt and Chaldea.\n\nWhen we turn to the quality of the thing itself, we note in the first\nplace that while science may be said to begin with mere description, it\nimplies from the first a certain degree of order and accuracy, and this\norder and accuracy increase steadily as science advances. It is thus a\ntype of progress, for it is a constant growth in the fullness, accuracy\nand simplification of our experience. From the dawn of science,\ntherefore, man must have acquired standards and instruments of\nmeasurement and means of handing on his observations to others. Thus\nwriting must have been invented. But in the second place, there is\nalways involved in this orderly description, so far as it is scientific,\nthe element of prediction. The particular description is not scientific.\n'I saw a bird fly' is not a scientific description, however accurate;\nbut 'The bird flies by stretching out its wings' is. It contains that\ncausal connexion or element of generality which enables us to predict.\n\nBefore entering on a historical sketch of the most perfect example of\nhuman progress, it is of the first importance to realize its social\nfoundation. This is the key-note, and it connects science throughout with\nthe other aspects of our subject. Knowledge depends upon the free\nintercourse of mind with mind, and man advances with the increase and\nbetter direction of his knowledge. But when we consider the implications\nof any generalization which we can call 'a law of nature' the social\nco-operation involved becomes still more apparent. Geometry and\nastronomy--the measurement of the earth and the measurement of the\nheavens--dispute the honour of the first place in the historical order.\nBoth, of course, involved the still more fundamental conception of number\nand the acceptance of some unit for measurement. Now in each case and at\nevery step a long previous elaboration is implied of intellectual\nconventions and agreements--conscious and unconscious--between many minds\nstretching back to the beginnings of conscious life: the simplest element\nof thought involves the co-operation of individual minds in a common\nproduct. Language is such a common product of social life and it prepares\nthe ground for science. But science, as the exact formulation of general\ntruths, attains a higher degree of social value, because it rises above\nthe idioms of person or race and is universally acceptable in form and\nessence. Such is the intrinsic nature of the process, and the historical\ncircumstances of its beginnings make it clear. It was the quick mind of\nthe Greek which acted as the spark to fire the trains of thought and\nobservation which had been accumulating for ages through the agency of the\npriests in Egypt and Babylonia. The Greeks lived and travelled between the\ntwo centres, and their earliest sages and philosophers were men of the\nmost varied intercourse and occupation. Their genius was fed by a wide\nsympathy and an all-embracing curiosity. No other people could have\ndemonstrated so well the social nature of science from its inception, and\nthey were planting in a soil well prepared. In Egypt conspicuously and in\nChaldea also to a less extent there had been a social order which before\nthe convulsions of the last millennium B.C. had lasted substantially\nunchanged for scores of centuries. This order was based upon a religious\ndiscipline which connected the sovereigns on earth with the divine power\nruling men from the sky. Hence the supreme importance of the priesthood\nand their study of the movements of the heavenly bodies. The calendar,\nwhich they were the first to frame, was thus not only or even primarily a\nwork of practical utility but of religious meaning and obligation. The\npriests had to fix in advance the feast days of gods and kings by\nastronomical prediction. Their standards and their means of measurement\nwere rough approximations. Thus the 360 degrees into which the Babylonians\ntaught us to divide the circle are thought to have been the nearest round\nnumber to the days of the year. The same men were also capable of the more\naccurate discovery that the side of a hexagon inscribed in a circle was\nequal to the radius and gave us our division of sixty minutes and sixty\nseconds with all its advantages for calculation. In Egypt, if the\nsurveyors were unaware of the true relation between a triangle and the\nrectangle on the same base, they had yet established the carpenter's rule\nof 3, 4 and 5 for the sides of a right-angled triangle.\n\nHow much the Greeks drew from the ancient priesthoods we shall never\nknow, nor how far the priests had advanced in those theories of general\nrelations which we call scientific. But one or two general conclusions\nas to this initial stage of scientific preparation may well be drawn.\n\nOne is that a certain degree of settlement and civilization was\nnecessary for the birth of science. This we find in these great\ntheocracies, where sufficient wealth enabled a class of leisured and\nhonoured men to devote themselves to joint labour in observing nature\nand recording their observations. Another point is clear, namely, that\nthe results of these early observations, crude as they were, contributed\npowerfully to give stability to the societies in which they arose. The\nyounger Pliny points out later the calming effect of Greek astronomy on\nthe minds of the Eastern peoples, and we are bound to carry back the\nsame idea into the ancient settled communities where astronomy began and\nwhere so remarkable an order prevailed for so long during its\npreparation.\n\nBut however great the value we allow to the observations of the priests,\nit is to the Ionian Greeks that we owe the definite foundation of\nscience in the proper sense; it was they who gave the raw material the\nneeded accuracy and generality of application, A comparison of the\nsocieties in the nearer East to which we have referred, with the history\nof China affords the strongest presumption of this. In the later\nmillenniums B.C. the Chinese were in many points ahead of the\nBabylonians and Egyptians. They had made earlier predictions of eclipses\nand more accurate observations of the distance of the sun from the\nzenith at various places. They had, too, seen the advantages of a\ndecimal system both in weights and measures and in the calculations of\ntime. But no Greek genius came to build the house with the bricks that\nthey had fashioned, and in spite of the achievements of the Chinese they\nremained until our own day the type in the world of a settled and\ncontented, although unprogressive, conservatism.\n\nScience then among its other qualities contains a force of social\nmovement, and our age of rapid transformation has begun to do fuller\njustice to the work of the Greeks, the greatest source of intellectual\nlife and change in the world. We are now fully conscious of the defects\nin their methods, the guesses which pass for observations, the\nmetaphysical notions which often take the place of experimental\nresults.[80] But having witnessed the latest strides in the unification\nof science on mathematical lines, we are more and more inclined to prize\nthe geometry and astronomy of the Greeks, who gave us the first\nconstructions on which the modern mechanical theories of the universe\nare based. We shall quote from them here only sufficient illustrations\nto explain and justify this statement.\n\nThe first shall be what is called Euclidean geometry, but which is in\nthe main the work of the Pythagorean school of thinkers and social\nreformers who flourished from the seventh to the fifth centuries B.C.\nThis formed the greater part of the geometrical truth known to mankind\nuntil Descartes and the mathematicians recommenced the work in the\nseventeenth century. The second greatest contribution of the Greeks was\nthe statics and the conics of which Archimedes was the chief creator in\nthe third century B.C. In his work he gave the first sketch of an\ninfinitesimal calculus and in his own way performed an integration. The\nthird invaluable construction was the trigonometry by which Hipparchus\nfor the first time made a scientific astronomy possible. The fourth, the\noptics of Ptolemy based on much true observation and containing an\napproximation to the general law.\n\nThese are a few outstanding landmarks, peaks in the highlands of Greek\nscience, and nothing has been said of their zoology or medicine. In all\nthese cases it will be seen that the advance consisted in bringing\nvarying instances under the same rule, in seeing unity in difference, in\ndiscovering the true link which held together the various elements in\nthe complex of phenomena. That the Greek mind was apt in doing this is\ncognate to their idealizing turn in art. In their statues they show us\nthe universal elements in human beauty; in their science, the true\nrelations that are common to all triangles and all cones.\n\nPtolemy's work in optics is a good example of the scientific mind at\nwork.[81] The problem is the general relation which holds between the\nangles of incidence and of refraction when a ray passes from air into\nwater or from air into glass. He groups a series of the angles with a\nclose approximation to the truth, but just misses the perception which\nwould have turned his excellent raw material into the finished product\nof science. His brick does not quite fit its place in the building. His\nformula _i_ (the angle of incidence) = _nr_ (the angle of refraction)\nonly fits the case of very small angles for which the sine is\nnegligible, though it had the deceptive advantage of including reflexion\nas one case of refraction. He did not pursue the argument and make his\nform completely general. Sin _i_ = _n_ sin _r_ escaped him, though he\nhad all the trigonometry of Hipparchus behind him, and it was left for\nSnell and Descartes to take the simple but crucial step at the beginning\nof the seventeenth century.\n\nThe case is interesting for more than one reason. It shows us what is a\ngeneral form, or law of nature in mathematical shape, and it also\nillustrates the progress of science as it advances from the most\nabstract conceptions of number and geometry, to more concrete phenomena\nsuch as physics. The formula for refraction which Ptolemy helped to\nshape, is geometrical in form. With him, as with the discoverer of the\nright angle in a semicircle, the mind was working to find a general\nideal statement under which all similar occurrences might be grouped.\nObservation, the collection of similar instances, measurement, are all\ninvolved, and the general statement, law or form, when arrived at, is\nfound to link up other general truths and is then used as a\nstarting-point in dealing with similar cases in future. Progress in\nscience consists in extending this mental process to an ever-increasing\narea of human experience. We shall see, as we go on, how in the concrete\nsciences the growing complexity and change of detail make such\ngeneralizations more and more difficult. The laws of pure geometry seem\nto have more inherent necessity and the observations on which they were\noriginally founded have passed into the very texture of our minds. But\nthe work of building up, or, perhaps better, of organizing our\nexperience remains fundamentally the same. Man is throughout both\nperceiving and making that structure of truth which is the framework of\nprogress.\n\nPtolemy's work brings us to the edge of the great break which occurred\nin the growth of science between the Greek and the modern world. In the\ninterval, the period known as the Middle Ages, the leading minds in the\nleading section of the human race were engaged in another part of the\ngreat task of human improvement. For them the most incumbent task was\nthat of developing the spiritual consciousness of men for which the\nCatholic Church provided an incomparable organization. But the interval\nwas not entirely blank on the scientific side. Our system of\narithmetical notation, including that invaluable item the cipher, took\nshape during the Middle Ages at the hands of the Arabs, who appear to\nhave derived it in the main from India. Its value to science is an\nexcellent object-lesson on the importance of the details of form. Had\nthe Greeks possessed it, who can say how far they might have gone in\ntheir applications of mathematics?\n\nYet in spite of this drawback the most permanent contribution of the\nGreeks to science was in the very sphere of exact measurement where they\nwould have received the most assistance from a better system of\ncalculation had they possessed it. They founded and largely constructed\nboth plane and spherical geometry on the lines which best suit our\npractical intelligence. They gave mankind the framework of astronomy by\ndetermining the relative positions of the heavenly bodies, and they\nperceived and correctly stated the elementary principles of equilibrium.\nAt all these points the immortal group of men who adopted the Copernican\ntheory at the Renascence, began again where the Greeks had left off. But\nmodern science starts with two capital improvements on the work of the\nGreeks. Measurement there had been from the first, and the effort to\nfind the constant thing in the variable flux; and from the earliest days\nof the Ionian sages the scientific mind had been endeavouring to frame\nthe simplest general hypothesis or form which would contain all the\nfacts. But the moderns advanced decisively, in method, by experimenting\nand verifying their hypotheses, and in subject-matter, by applying their\nmethod to phenomena of movement, which may theoretically include all\nfacts biological as well as physical. Galileo, the greatest founder of\nmodern science, perfectly exemplifies both these new departures.\n\nIt is, perhaps, the most instructive and encouraging thing in the whole\nannals of progress to note how the men of the Renascence were able to\npick up the threads of the Greeks and continue their work. The texture\nheld good. Leonardo da Vinci, whose birth coincides with the invention\nof the printing-press, is the most perfect reproduction in modern times\nof the early Greek sophos, the man of universal interests and capacity.\nHe gave careful and admiring study to Archimedes, the greatest pure man\nof science among the Greeks, the one man among them whose works,\nincluding even his letters, have come down to us practically complete. A\nlittle later, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, Copernicus\ngained from the Pythagoreans the crude notion of the earth's movement\nround a great central fire, and from it he elaborated the theory which\nwas to revolutionize thought. Another half-century later the works of\nArchimedes were translated into Latin and for the first time printed.\nThey thus became well known before the time of Galileo, who also\ncarefully studied them. At the beginning of the seventeenth century\nGalileo made the capital discoveries which established both the\nCopernican theory and the science of dynamics. Galileo's death in 1642\ncoincides with the birth of Sir Isaac Newton.\n\nSuch is the sequence of the most influential names at the turning-point\nof modern thought.\n\nGalileo's work, his experiments with falling bodies and the revelations\nof his telescope, carried the strategic lines of Greek science across\nthe frontiers of a New World, and Newton laid down the lines of\npermanent occupation and organized the conquest. Organization, the\nformation of a network of lines connected as a whole, and giving access\nto different parts of the world of experience, is perhaps the best image\nof the growth of science in the mind of mankind. It will be seen that it\ndoes not imply any exhaustion of the field, nor any identification of\nall knowledge with exact or systematic knowledge. The process is rather\none of gradual penetration, the linking up and extension of the area of\nknowledge by well-defined and connected methods of thought. No\nall-embracing plan thought out beforehand by the first founders of\nscience, or any of their successors, can be applied systematically to\nthe whole range of our experience. It has not been so in the past; still\nless does it seem possible in the future. For the most part the\ndiscoverer works on steadily in his own plot, occupying the nearest\nplaces first, and observing here and there that one of his lines runs\ninto some one else's. Every now and then a greater and more\ncomprehensive mind appears, able to treat several systems as one whole,\nto survey a larger area and extend that empire of the mind which, as\nBacon tells us, is nobler than any other.\n\nOf such conquerors Newton was the greatest we have yet known, because he\nbrought together into one system more and further-reaching lines of\ncommunication than any one else. He unified the forms of measurement\nwhich had previously been treated as the separate subjects of geometry,\nastronomy, and the newly-born science of dynamics. Celestial mechanics\nembraces all three, and is a fresh and decisive proof of the commanding\ninfluence of the heavenly bodies on human life and thought. Not by a\nhoroscope, but by continued and systematic thought, humanity was\nunravelling its nature and destiny in the stars as well as in itself.\nThese are the two approaches to perfect knowledge which are converging\nmore and more closely in our own time. Newton's work was the longest\nstep yet taken on the mechanical side, and we must complete our notice\nof it by the briefest possible reference to the later workers on the\nsame line, before turning to the sciences of life which began their more\nsystematic evolution with the discovery of Harvey, a contemporary of\nNewton.\n\nThe seventeenth century, with Descartes' application of algebra to\ngeometry, and Newton's and Leibnitz's invention of the differential and\nintegral calculus, improved our methods of calculation to such a point\nthat summary methods of vastly greater comprehensiveness and elasticity\ncan be applied to any problem of which the elements can be measured. The\nmere improvement in the method of describing the same things (cf. e.g. a\ngeometrical problem as written down by Archimedes with any modern\ntreatise) was in itself a revolution. But the new calculus went much\nfarther. It enabled us to represent, in symbols which may be dealt with\narithmetically, any form of regular movement.\n\nAs movement is universal, and the most obvious external manifestation of\nlife itself, the hopes of a mathematical treatment of all phenomena are\nindefinitely enlarged, for all fresh laws or forms might conceivably be\nexpressed as differential equations. So to the vision of a Poincare the\nhuman power of prediction appears to have no assignable theoretical\nlimit.\n\nThe seventeenth century which witnessed this momentous extension of\nmathematical methods, also contains the cognate foundation of scientific\nphysics. Accurate measurement began to be applied to the phenomena of\nlight and heat, the expansion of gases, the various changes in the forms\nof matter apart from life. The eighteenth century which continued this\nwork, is also and most notably marked by the establishment of a\nscientific chemistry. In this again we see a further extension of\naccurate measurement: another order of things different in quality began\nto be treated by a quantitative analysis. Lavoisier's is the greatest\nname. He gave a clear and logical classification of the chemical\nelements then known, which served as useful a purpose in that science,\nas classificatory systems in botany and zoology have done in those\ncases. But the crucial step which established chemistry, a step also due\nto Lavoisier, was making the test of weight decisive. 'The balance was\nthe _ultima ratio_ of his laboratory.' His first principle was that the\ntotal weight of all the products of a chemical process must be exactly\nequal to the total weight of the substances used. From this, and rightly\ndisregarding the supposed weight of heat, he could proceed to the\ndiscovery of the accurate proportions of the elements in all the\ncompounds he was able to analyse.\n\nSince then the process of mathematical synthesis in science has been\ncarried many stages further. The exponents of this aspect of scientific\nprogress, of whom we may take the late M. Henri Poincare as the leading\nrepresentative in our generation, are perfectly justified in treating\nthis gradual mathematical unification of knowledge with pride and\nconfidence. They have solid achievement on their side. It is through\nscience of this kind that the idea of universal order has gained its\nsway in man's mind. The occasional attacks on scientific method, the\ntalk one sometimes hears of 'breaking the fetters of Cartesian\nmechanics', seem to suggest that the great structure which Galileo,\nNewton, and Descartes founded is comparable to the false Aristotelianism\nwhich they destroyed. The suggestion is absurd: its chief excuse is the\ndesire to defend the autonomy of the sciences of life, about which we\nhave a word to say later on. But we must first complete our brief\nmention of the greatest stages on the mechanical side, of which a full\nand vivid account may be found in such a book as M. Poincare's _Science\net Hypothese_.\n\nEarly in the nineteenth century a trio of discoverers, a Frenchman, a\nGerman, and an Englishman, established the theory of the conservation of\nenergy. To the labours of Sadi Carnot, Mayer, and Joule is due our\nknowledge of the fact that heat which, as a supposed entity, had\ndisturbed the physics and chemistry of the earlier centuries, was itself\nanother form of mechanical energy and could be measured like the rest.\nLater in the century another capital step in synthesis was taken by the\nfoundation of astrophysics, which rests on the identity of the physics\nand chemistry of the heavenly bodies with those of the earth.\n\nThe known universe thus becomes still more one. Later researches again,\nespecially those of Maxwell, tend to the identification of light and\nheat with electricity, and in the last stage matter as a whole seems to\nbe swallowed up in motion. It is found that similar equations will\nexpress all kinds of motion; that all are really various forms of the\nmotion of something which the mind postulates as the thing in motion; we\nhave in each case to deal with wave-movements of different length. The\nbroad change, therefore, which has taken place since the mechanics of\nNewton is the advance from the consideration of masses to that of\nmolecules of smaller and smaller size, and the truth of the former is\nnot thereby invalidated. Newton, Descartes, Fresnel, Carnot, Joule,\nMayer, Faraday, Helmholtz, Maxwell appear as one great succession of\nunifiers. All have been engaged in the same work of consolidating\nthought at the same time that they extended it. Their conceptions of\nforce, mass, matter, ether, atom, molecule have provisional validity as\nthe imagined objective substratum of our experience, and the fact that\nwe analyse these conceptions still further and sometimes discard them,\ndoes not in any way invalidate the law or general form in which they\nhave enabled us to sum up our experience and predict the future.\n\nBut now we turn to the other side. In spite of the continued progress\nnoted on the mechanical side, it is true that the predominant scientific\ninterest changed in the nineteenth century from mechanics to biology,\nfrom matter to life, from Newton to Darwin. Darwin was born in 1809, the\nyear in which Lamarck, who invented the term biology, published his\n_Philosophie Zoologique_. The _Origin of Species_ appeared in 1858 after\nthe conservation of energy had been established, and the range and\ninfluence of evolutionary biology have grown ever since.\n\nBefore anything can be said of the conclusions in this branch of science\none preliminary remark has to be made. From the philosophical point of\nview the science of life includes all other, for man is a living animal,\nand science is the work of his co-operating mind, one of the functions\nof his living activity. What this involves on the philosophical side\ndoes not concern us here, but it is necessary to indicate here the\nnature of the contact between the two great divisions of science, the\nmechanical and the biological, considered purely as sciences. For,\nthough we know that our consciousness as a function of life must in some\nform come into the science of life, and is, in a sense, above it all, we\nare yet able to draw conclusions, apparently of infinite scope, about\nthe behaviour of all living things around us and including ourselves,\njust as we do about a stone or a star. And we are interested in this\nchapter in seeing how this drawing of general conclusions keeps growing\nwith regard to the phenomena of life, just as it has grown with regard\nto all other phenomena, and we have to consider what sort of difference\nthere is between the one class of generalizations and the other.\n\nFor those of us who are content to rest their conclusions on the\npositively known, who, while not setting any limits to the possible\nextension of knowledge, are not prepared to dogmatize about it, it is\nstill necessary to draw a line. A dualism remains, name and fact alike\nabhorrent to the completely logical philosophic mind. On the one hand\nthe ordinary laws of physical science are constantly extending their\nsphere; on the other, the fact of life still remains unexplained by\nthem, and becomes in itself more and more marvellous as we investigate\nit. The general position remains much as Johannes Mueller expressed it\nabout the middle of the last century, himself sometimes described as the\ncentral figure in the history of modern physiology. 'Though there\nappears to be something in the phenomena of living beings which cannot\nbe explained by ordinary mechanical, physical, or chemical laws, much\nmay be so explained, and we may without fear push these explanations as\nfar as we can, so long as we keep to the solid ground of observation and\nexperiment.' Since this was written the double process has gone on\napace. The chemistry and physics of living matter are being sketched,\nand biologists are more and more inclined to study the mechanical\nexpression of the facts of life. Mr. Bateson, for instance, tells us\nthat the greatest advance that we can foresee will be made 'when it is\npossible to connect the geometrical phenomena of development with the\nchemical'. The process of applying physical laws to life follows, it\nwould seem, the reverse order of their original development. First the\nchemistry of organic matter was investigated, then the physical\nattraction of their molecules, and now their geometry is in question.\nSo, says Professor Bateson, the 'geometrical symmetry of living things\nis the key to a knowledge of their regularity and the forces which cause\nit. In the symmetry of the dividing cell the basis of that resemblance\nwhich we call Heredity is contained'.\n\nBut such work as this is still largely speculative and in the future. It\ndoes not solve the secret of life. It does not affect the fact of\nconsciousness which we are free to conceive, if we will, as the other\nside of what we call matter, evolving with it from the most rudimentary\nforms into the highest known form in man, or still further into some\nsuper-personal or universal form. This, however, is philosophy or\nmetaphysics. We are here concerned with the progress of science, in one\nof its two great departments, i.e. knowledge about life and all its\nknown manifestations, which from Aristotle onwards have been subjected\nto a scrutiny similar to that which has been given to the physical facts\nof the universe and with results in many points similar also. But the\nfacts, although superficially more familiar, are infinitely more\ncomplicated, and the scrutiny has only commenced in earnest some hundred\nyears ago. Considering the short space for this concentrated and\nsystematic study, the results are at least as wonderful as those\nachieved by the physicists. Two or three points of suggestive analogy\nbetween the courses of the two great branches of science may here be\nmentioned.\n\nWe will put first the fundamental question on which, as we have seen, no\nfinal answer has yet been reached: What is life, and is there any\nevidence of life arising from the non-living? Now this baffling and\nprobably unanswerable question--unanswerable, that is, in terms which go\nbeyond the physical concomitants of life--has played the part in biology\nwhich the alchemists' quest played in chemistry. It led by the way to a\nhost of positive discoveries. Aristotle, the father of biology, believed\nin spontaneous generation. He was puzzled by the case of parasites,\nespecially in putrefying matter. Even Harvey, who made the first great\ndefinite discovery about the mechanism of the body, agreed with\nAristotle in this error. It was left for the minute and careful\ninquirers of the nineteenth century to dispose of the myth. It was only\nafter centuries of inquiry that the truth was established that life, as\nwe know it, only arises from life. But the whole course of the inquiry\nhad illuminated the nature of life and had brought together facts as to\nliving things of all kinds, plants and animals, great and small, which\nshow superficially the widest difference. Illumination by unification is\nhere the note, as clearly as in the mathematical-physical sciences. All\nliving things are found to be built up from cells and each cell to be an\norganism, a being, that is, with certain qualities belonging to it as a\nwhole, which cannot be predicated of any collection of parts not an\norganism. The cell is such an organism, just as the animal is an\norganism, and among its qualities as an organism is the power of growth\nby assimilating material different from itself. Yet, in spite of this\nassimilation and constant change, it grows and decays as one whole and\nreproduces its like.\n\nAnother point of analogy between the animate and the inanimate sphere is\nthat the process of study in both has been from the larger to the\nsmaller elements. The microscope has played at least as decisive a part\nas the telescope, and it dates from about the same time, at the\nbeginning of the seventeenth century. Since then it has penetrated\nfarther and farther into the infinitesimal elements of life and matter,\nand in each case there seems to be no assignable limit to our analysis.\nThe cell is broken up into physiological units to which almost every\ninvestigator gives a new name. We are now confronted by the fascinating\ntheory of Arrhenius of an infinite universe filled with vital spores,\nwafted about by radio-activity, and beginning their upward course of\nevolution wherever they find a kindly soil on which to rest. To such a\nvision the hopes and fears of mortal existence, catastrophes of nature\nor of society, even the decay of man, seem transient and trivial, and\nthe infinities embrace.\n\nA third point, perhaps the most important in the comparison, is the way\nby which the order of science has entered into our notions of life,\nthrough a great theory, the theory of evolution or the doctrine of\ndescent. In this we find a solid basis for the co-ordination of facts:\nit was the rise of this theory in the hands of one thinker of\nunconquerable patience and love of truth which has put the study of\nbiology in the pre-eminent position which it now holds. But it is\nnecessary to consider the evolution theory as something both older and\nwider than Darwin's presentation of it. Darwin's work was to suggest a\n_vera causa_ for a process which earlier philosophers had imagined\nalmost from the beginning of abstract thought. He observed and collected\na multitude of facts which made his explanations of the change of\nspecies--within their limits--as convincing as they are plausible. But\nthe idea that species change, by slow and regular steps, was an old one,\nand his particular explanations, natural and sexual selection, are seen\non further reflection to have only a limited scope.\n\nThis is no place, of course, to discuss the details of the greatest and\nmost vexed question in the whole science of life. But it belongs to our\nargument to consider it from one or two general points of view. Its\nanalogies with, and its differences from, the great generalizations of\nmathematical physics, are both highly instructive. The first crude\nhypothesis of the gradual evolution of various vegetable and animal\nforms from one another may be found in the earliest Greek thinkers, just\nas Pythagoras and Aristarchus anticipated the Copernican theory.\nAristotle gave the idea a philosophic statement which only the fuller\nknowledge of our own time enables us to appreciate. He traced the\ngradual progression in nature from the inorganic to the organic, and\namong living things from the simpler to the higher forms. But his\nknowledge of the facts was insufficient: the Greeks had no microscope,\nand the dissecting knife was forbidden on the human subject. Then, as\nthese things were gradually added to science from the seventeenth\ncentury onwards, and the record of the rocks gave the confirmation of\npalaeontology, the whole realm of living nature was gradually unfolded\nbefore us, every form connected both in function and in history with\nevery other, every organ fulfilling a necessary part, either now or in\nthe past, and growing and changing to gain a more perfect accord with\nits environment. Such is the supreme conception which now dominates\nbiological science much as the Newtonian theory has dominated physics\nfor two hundred years; and it is idle to debate whether this new idea is\ndifferent in kind or only in degree from the great law of physics. It is\na general notion or law which brings together and explains myriads of\nhitherto unrelated particulars; it has been established by observation\nand experiment working on a previous hypothesis; it involves\nmeasurement, as all accurate observation must, and it gives us an\nincreasing power of prediction. So far, therefore, we must class it with\nthe great mathematical laws and dissent from M. Bergson. But seeing that\nthe multitudinous facts far surpass our powers of complete colligation,\nthat much in the vital process is still obscure, that we are conscious\nin ourselves of a power of shaping circumstances which we are inclined\nin various degrees to attribute to other living things, so far we\nrecognize a profound difference between the laws of life and the laws of\nphysics, and pay our respects to M. Bergson and his allies of the\nneo-vitalist school. Not for the first time in history we have to seek\nthe truth in the reconciliation, or at least the cohabitation, of\napparent contradictories.\n\nTo us who are concerned in tracing the progress of mankind as a whole,\nand constantly find the roots of progress in the growth of the social\nspirit, the development, that is, of unity of spirit and of action on a\nwider and deeper scale, there is one aspect of biological truth, as the\nevolutionists have lately revealed it, which is of special interest. The\nliving thing is an organism of which the characteristic is the constant\neffort to preserve its unity. This is in fact the definition of an\norganism. It only dies or suffers diminution in order to reproduce\nitself, and the new creature repeats by some sort of organic memory the\nsame preservative acts that its parents did. We recognize life by these\nmanifestations. A merely material, non-living thing, such as a crystal,\ncannot thus make good its loss, nor can it assimilate unlike substance\nand make it a part of itself. But these things are of the nature of\nlife. Now mankind, as a whole, has, if our argument is correct, this\ncharacteristic of an organism: it is bound together by more than\nmechanical or accidental links. It is _one_ by the nature of its being,\nand the study of mankind, the highest branch of the science of life,\nrests, or should rest, upon the basis of those common functions by which\nhumanity is held together and distinguished from the rest of the animate\nworld.\n\nJust as in passing from the mechanical sciences to that of life, we\nnoticed that the general laws of the lower sphere still held good, but\nthat new factors not analysable into those of the former had to be\nreckoned with, so in passing from the animate realm, as a whole, to man\nits highest member, we find that, while animal, and subject to the\ngeneral laws of animality, he adds features which distinguish him as\nanother order and cannot be found elsewhere. His unity as an organism\nhas a progressive quality possessed by no other species. Step by step\nhis mind advances into the recesses of time and space, and makes the\nfarthest objects that his mind can reach a part of his being. His unity\nof organization, of which the humblest animalcule is a simple type, goes\nfar beyond the preservation or even the improvement of his species: it\ntouches the infinite though it cannot contain it. To trace this widening\nprocess is the true key to progress, the _idee-mere_ of history. For\nwhile man's evolution has its practical side, like that of other\nspecies,--the needs of nutrition, of reproduction, of adapting himself\nto his environment,--with man this is the basis and not the end. The end\nis, first the organization of himself as a world-being, conscious of his\nunity, and then the illimitable conquest of truth and goodness as far as\nhis ever-growing powers extend.\n\nMan's reason is thus, as philosophers have always taught, his special\ncharacteristic, and takes the place for him, on a higher plane, of the\nlaw of organic growth common to all living things. In this we join\nhands, across two thousand years, with Aristotle: he would have\nunderstood us and used almost identical language. But the content of the\nwords as we use them and their applications are immeasurably greater.\n\nThe content is the mass of knowledge which man's reason has accumulated\nand partly put in order since Aristotle taught. It is now so great that\nthoroughly to master a single branch is arduous labour for a lifetime\nof concentrated toil, and at the end of it new discoveries will crowd\nupon the worker and he will die with all his earlier notions crying for\nrevision. No case so patent, so conclusive, of the reality of human\nunity and the paramount need of organization. The individual here can\nonly thrive and only be of service as a small member of a great whole,\none atom in a planet, one cell in a body. The demand which Comte raised\nmore than fifty years ago for another class of specialists, the\nspecialists in generalities, is now being taken up by men of science\nthemselves. But the field has now so much extended and is so much fuller\nin every part, that it would seem that nothing less than a committee of\nAristotles could survey the whole. And even this is but one aspect of\nthe matter. Just as the genesis of science was in the daily needs of\nmen--the cultivators whose fields must be re-measured after the\nflooding, the priests who had to fix the right hour for sacrifice--so\nall through its history science has grown and in the future will grow\nstill more by following the suggestions of practice. It gathers strength\nby contact with the world and life, and it should use its strength in\nmaking the world more fit to live in. Thus our committee of scientific\nphilosophers needs to have constantly in touch with it not one but many\nboards of scientific practitioners.\n\nThe past which has given us this most wonderful of all the fruits of\ntime, does not satisfy us equally as to the use that has been made of\nit. Our crowded slums do not proclaim the glory of Watt and Stephenson\nas the heavens remind us of Kepler and Newton. Selfishness has grown fat\non ill-paid labour, and jealous nations have sharpened their weapons\nwith every device that science can suggest. But a sober judgement, as\nwell as the clearest evidence of history, dictates a more hopeful\nconclusion. Industry, the twin brother of science, has vastly increased\nour wealth, our comfort, and our capacity for enjoyment. Medicine, the\nmost human of her children, has lengthened our lives, fortified our\nbodies, and alleviated our suffering. Every chapter in this volume gives\nsome evidence of the beneficent power of science. For religion,\ngovernment, morality, even art, are all profoundly influenced by the\nknowledge that man has acquired of the world around him and his\npractical conclusions from it. These do not, with the possible exception\nof art, contradict the thesis of a general improvement of mankind, and\nscience must therefore claim a share--it would seem the decisive\nshare--in the result. We speak, of course, of science in the sense which\nhas been developed in this essay, of the bright well-ordered centre to\nour knowledge which is always spreading and bringing more of the\nsurrounding fringe, which is also spreading, into the well-defined area.\nIn this sense religion, morality and government have all within historic\ntimes come within the range of clear and well-ordered thought: and\nmankind standing thus within the light, stands more firmly and with\nbetter hope. He sees the dark spots and the weaknesses. He knows the\nremedies, though his will is often unequal to applying them. And even\nwith this revelation of weakness and ignorance, he is on the whole\nhappier and readier to grapple with his fate.\n\nIf this appears a fair diagnosis of the Western mind in the midst of its\ngreatest external crisis, the reason for this amazing firmness of mind\nand stability of society must be sought in the structure which science\nand industry combined have built around us. The savage, untutored in\nastronomy, may think that an eclipse betokens the end of the world.\nScience convinces him that it will pass. Just so the modern world\ntrained to an order of thought and of society which rests on world-wide\nactivities elaborated through centuries of common effort, awaits the\nissue of our darkened present calmly and unmoved. The things of the mind\non which all nations have co-operated in the past will re-assert their\nsway. Fundamentally this is a triumph for the scientific spirit, the\norder which man has now succeeded in establishing between himself and\nhis surroundings.\n\nThe country is demanding--and rightly--a stronger bias in our\neducational system for teaching of a scientific kind; but teachers and\nprofessors are not unnaturally perplexed. They see the immeasurable\nscope of the new knowledge; they know the labour, often ineffective,\nthat has been expended in teaching the rudiments of the old\n'humanities'. And now a task is propounded to them before which the old\none with all its faults seems definite, manageable and formative of\ncharacter. The classical world which has been the staple of our\neducation for 400 years is a finished thing and we can compass it in\nthought. It lives indeed, but unconsciously, in our lives, as we go\nabout our business. This new world into which our youth has now to\nenter, rests also on the past, but it is still more present; it grows\nall round us faster than we can keep pace with its earlier stages. How\nthen can such a thing be used as an instrument of education where above\nall something is needed of clear and definite purpose, stimulating in\nitself and tending to mental growth and activity in after life? We could\nnot, even if we would, offer any satisfactory answer here to one of the\nmost troubled questions of the day. Decades of experiments will be\nneeded before even a tolerable solution can be reached. But the argument\npursued in this and other essays may suggest a line of approach. This\nmust lie in a reconciliation between science and history, or rather in\nthe recognition that science rightly understood is the key to history,\nand that the history best worth study is the record of man's collective\nthought in face of the infinite complexities, the barriers and byways,\nthe lights and shadows of life and nature. From the study of man's\napproach to knowledge and unity in history each new-coming student may\nshape his own. He sees a unity of thought not wholly unattainable, a\nfoundation laid beneath the storms of time. To a mind thus trained\nshould come an eagerness to carry on the conquests of the past and to\napply the lessons gained to the amelioration of the present.\n\nThis we may hope from the well-disposed. But for all, the contemplation\nof a universe where man's mind has worked for ages in unravelling its\nsecrets and describing its wonders, must bring a sense of reverence as\nwell as trust. It is no dry category of abstract truths to which we turn\nand would have others turn, but a world as bright and splendid as the\nrainbow to the savage or the forest to the poet or the heavens to the\nlonely watcher on the Babylonian plain. The glories and the depths\nremain, deeper and more glorious, with all the added marvels of man's\nexploring thought. The seeing eye which a true education will one day\ngive us, may read man's history in the world we live in, and read the\nworld with the full illumination of a united human vision--the eyes of\nus all.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nAlcan, _De la methode dans les Sciences_.\n\nMach, _History of Mechanics_, Kegan Paul.\n\nThomson, _Science of Life_, Blackie.\n\nThomson, _Science in the Nineteenth Century_, Chambers.\n\n_New Calendar of Great Men_, Macmillan.\n\n_The Darwin Centenary Volume._\n\nBergson, _Creative Evolution_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[80] See Lewes, 'Aristotle, a chapter in the History of Science'.\n\n[81] H. Bouasse, _La Methode dans les Sciences_, Alcan.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nPROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY\n\nJ.A. SMITH\n\n\nTo contend that there has been progress in Philosophy may seem but a\ndesperate endeavour. For the reproach against it of unprogressiveness is\nof long standing: where other forms of human knowledge have undoubtedly\nadvanced, Philosophy, in modern times at any rate, has (so it is said)\nremained stationary, propounding its outworn problems, its vain and\nempty solutions. Because of this failure it has by common consent been\ndeposed from its once proud position at the head of the sciences and\nobliged to confess, in the words of the Trojan queen:\n\n                  modo maxima rerum\n    Nunc trahor exul inops.\n\nThe charge of unprogressiveness is not made against it by its foes\nalone; the truth of it is admitted by some of its best friends. If\nVoltaire exclaims 'O metaphysique, metaphysique, nous sommes aussi\navances qu'aux temps des Druides', Kant sadly admits the fact, sets\nhimself to diagnose its cause, and if possible to discover or devise a\nremedy. Yet we must remember that it was philosophers who first descried\nthose currents in the world of events which the non-philosophic,\nborrowing the name from them, call Progress, who first attempted to\ndetermine their direction and the possible goal of their convergence,\nand laboured to clear their own and others' minds in regard to the\nmeaning, to capture which the name was thrown out as a net into the\nocean of experience. Nor must we forget that it was in their own chosen\nfield--the world of human thoughts and actions--that they from the\nbeginning seemed to themselves to find the surest evidence of the\nreality of Progress. While the world that surrounded and hemmed them and\ntheir fellows in might or must be regarded as unchanging and\nunchangeable, doomed for ever to reproduce and monotonously reiterate\nwhatsoever it had once done and been, the mind or spirit of Man in its\nown realm seemed capable of going beyond all its past achievements and\nrising to new heights, not merely here and there or in isolated\ninstances but in such numbers or masses as to raise for long periods of\nhistory the general level of human efficiency and welfare. It is true\nthat many of those who noted these advances or profited by them did not\nalways admit that they took place in, or were due to the agency of,\nPhilosophy. The advances were most often credited to other powers and\nthe new territory claimed by their representatives. The contributions\nmade by Philosophy to the general improvement of human life were and are\nobscure, difficult to trace, easily missed or forgotten. It came about\nthat the philosopher was misconceived as one indifferent to ordinary\nhuman interests and disdainful of the more obvious advantages secured by\nothers, pressing and urging forward and upward into a cloudland where\nthe light was too dim for the eyes of man and the paths too uncertain\nfor his feet. Unsatisfied with the region where Man had learned by the\nslow and painful lessons of experience to build himself a habitable city\nhe dreamed of something higher, aspiring to explore beyond and above\nwhere the light of that experience shone and illuminated. Perhaps the\nmain idea that the name of Philosophy now to most suggests is that of a\nUtopian ideal of knowledge so wide and so high that it must be by sane\nand sober minds pronounced for ever set beyond the reach of human\nfaculty, an ideal which perhaps we cannot help forming and which\nconstantly tempts us forward like a mirage, but which like a mirage\nleads us into waste and barren places, so much so that it is no small\npart of human wisdom to resist its subtle seductions and to confine our\nefforts to the pursuit of such ends as we may reasonably regard as well\nwithin the compass of our powers of thought and action. It is folly, we\nare told, to adventure ourselves upon the uncharted seas into which\nphilosophers invite us, to waste our lives and perhaps break our hearts\nin the vain search for a knowledge that is for ever denied us. After\nall, there is much that we can know, and in the knowledge of which we\ncan better the estate of Man, relieving him from many of his most\npressing terrors and distresses. To cherish other hopes is to deceive\nourselves to our own and our fellows' undoing, to refuse them our help\nand fail to play our part in the common business of mankind. There is\nsurely in the world enough suffering and sorrow and sin to engage all\nour energies in dealing with them, nor are our endeavours to do so so\nplainly fruitless as to discourage from perseverance in them. Where in\nthis task our hearts do faint and fail, are there not other means than\nthe discredited nostrum of Philosophy to revive our hopes and recruit\nour forces? It was only, we are sometimes reminded, in the darkest days\nof human history that men turned desperately to Philosophy for comfort\nand consolation--how surely and demonstrably, we are told, in vain! When\nother duties are so urgent and immediate, have we even the right to\nconsume our energies otherwise than in their direct discharge? And is it\nnot presumption to ask for any further light than that which is\nvouchsafed to us in the ordinary course of experience or, if that is\ninsufficient, in and by Religion?\n\nMuch in this plea for a final relinquishment of aid from Philosophy in\nthe furtherance of human progress is plausible and more than plausible.\nYet the hope or, if you will, the dream of attaining some form or kind\nor degree of knowledge which the sciences do not and cannot supply and\nperhaps deny to be possible, some steadiness and firmness of assurance\nother and beyond the confidence of religious faith, is not yet extinct,\nis perhaps inextinguishable, and though it often takes extravagant and\neven morbid and repulsive forms, still haunts and tantalizes many, nor\nthese the least wise or sane of our kind, so that they count all the\nlabour they spend upon its search worth all the pains. Not for\nthemselves alone do they seek it; they view themselves as not alone in\nthe quest, but engaged in a matter of universally human moment. In the\nmeasure in which they count themselves to have attained any result they\ndo not hoard it or grudge it to others. The notion of philosophic truth\nas something to be shared and enjoyed only by a few--as what is called\n'esoteric'--is no longer in vogue and is indeed felt to involve an\nessential self-contradiction; rather it is conceived as something the\nvalue of which is assured and enhanced by being imparted. Those who\nbelieve themselves to be by nature or (it may be) accident appointed to\nthe office of its quest, by no means feel that they are thereby divided\nfrom their fellows as a peculiar people or a privileged and exclusive\npriesthood, but much rather as fellow servants enlisted and engaged in\nthe public service of mankind. Least of all do they believe that their\nefforts are foredoomed to inevitable failure, that progress therein is\nnot to be looked for, or that they and their predecessors have hitherto\nmade no advance towards what they and, as they also believe, all men\nsought and still seek. To them the history of Philosophy for say the\nlast two thousand years is not the dreary and dispiriting narrative of\nrepeated error and defeat, but the record of a slow but secure and\nsteady advance in which, as nowhere else, the mind of Man celebrates and\nenjoys triumphs over the mightiest obstacles, kindling itself to an\never-brightening flame. Reviewing its own past in history the spirit of\nPhilosophy sees its own inner light, which is its act and its essence,\nconstantly increasing, spreading ever wider into the circumambient dark,\nand touching far-off and hitherto undiscovered peaks with the fire of a\ncoming dawn. In place of the starlight of Science or the moonlight of\nReligion it sees a sun arise flooding the world with light and warmth\nand life. High hopes, high claims; but can they be made good, or even\nrationally entertained? Suffice it here that they be openly avowed and\nproclaimed to be laid up in the heart of the philosophic spirit,\n'dreaming', and yet with waking eyes, 'of things to come'. Or rather\nshall we not say, seeing that its eyes are unsealed and the vision\ntherefore no dream, beholding a present--an ever-present--Reality?\n\nIt was Philosophy, or philosophers, as I have said, that first discerned\nthe fact of Progress, named it, and divined its lineaments. To\nPhilosophy the name and notion of Progress belongs as of right--the\nright of first occupation. Merely to have invented a name for the fact\nis no small service, for thus the fact was fixed for further study and\nexamination. But with the name Philosophy gave us the idea, the notion,\nand therewith the fact began to be understood and to become amenable to\nfurther and further explanation. To this further explanation Philosophy\ngave notable assistance. To 'elaborate our concepts' has been said to be\nthe whole business of Philosophy, that is, to arrest the vague and\nshifting meanings that float before our minds loosely attached to the\nwords of ordinary careless speech, to fix their outlines,\ndistinguishing, defining, ordering and organizing until each mass of\nmeaning is improved and refined into a thought worthy to be called a\nnotion, a fit member of the world of mind, a seat and source of\nintellectual light. In this work Philosophy proceeds and succeeds simply\nby reflecting on whatever meaning it has in whatever manner already\nacquired; it employs no strange apparatus or recondite methods, only\ncontinues more thoughtfully and conscientiously to use the familiar\nmeans by which the earlier simpler meanings were appropriated and\ndeveloped, following the beaten tracks of the mind's native and\nspontaneous movement. Much more rarely than the sciences has it recourse\nto a technical vocabulary, being content to express itself in ordinary\nwords though using them and their collocations with a careful delicacy\nand painstaking adroitness. To follow it in these uses demands an\neffort, for nothing is perhaps more difficult than to force our thoughts\nto run counter to our customary heedless use of words and to learn to\nemploy them even for a short time with a steady precision of\nsignificance. Yet unless this effort is resolutely made we must remain\nthe easy prey of manifold confusions and errors which trip us in the\ndark. Our words degrade into tokens which experience will not\ncash--tangles of symbols which we cannot retranslate.\n\nBut Philosophy is more than the attempt to refine and subtilize our\nordinary words so as to fit them for the higher service of\ninterpretative thought, more even than the endeavour to improve the\nstock of ideas no matter how come by, by which we interpret to ourselves\nwhatever it imports us to understand. All this it is and does, or\nstrives to do, but only as subsidiary to its true business and real aim.\nAll this it might do and do successfully, and yet make or bring about no\nsubstantial progress in itself or elsewhere. And when progress in\nPhilosophy is spoken of, it is not either such improvement in language\nnor such improvement in ideas that alone or mainly is meant.\n\nWhat is claimed for (or denied to it) under the name of Progress is an\nadvance in knowledge, knowledge clear-sighted, grounded, and assured,\nknowledge of some authentic and indubitable reality. It is by the\nattainment of such knowledge, by progress in and towards it, that the\nclaim of Philosophy to be progressive must stand or fall. To the\nquestion whether it can make good its claim to the possession and\nincrease of this knowledge we must give special attention, for if\nPhilosophy fails in this it fails in all.\n\nThe oldest name for the knowledge in question was simply Wisdom and, in\nsome ways, in spite of its apparent arrogance this is the best name for\nwhat is sought--or missed. Yet from the beginning the name was felt not\nsufficiently to distinguish what was meant from the high skill of the\ncunning craftsman and the worldly wisdom of the man of affairs, the\nstatesman or soldier or trader. In the case of all these it was\ndifficult to disengage the knowledge involved from natural or trained\npractical dexterity. What was desired and required was knowledge\ndistinguished but not divorced from practice and application--'pure\nknowledge' as it was sometimes called; not divorced, I repeat, for it\nwas not conceived as without bearing upon the conduct of life, but still\ndistinguished, as furnishing light rather than profit. For good or evil\nPhilosophy began by considering what it sought and hoped to reach as\npre-eminently knowledge in some distinctive sense, and having so begun\nit turned to reflect once more upon what it meant by so conceiving it\nand to make this meaning more precise and clear. So it came to present\nto itself as its aim or goal a special kind or degree of knowledge, to\nbe inspired and guided by the hope of that. Practical as in many ways\nwas the concern of ancient philosophy--its whole bent was towards the\nbettering of human life--it sought to achieve this by the extension and\ndeepening of knowledge, and not either through the cultivation or\nrefinement of emotion or the organization of practical, civil or social\nor philanthropic activities. It laboured--and laboured not in vain--to\nfurther the increase of knowledge by defining to itself in advance the\nkind or degree of knowledge which would accomplish the ultimate aim of\nits endeavour or subserve its accomplishment. Hence we must learn to\nview with a sympathetic eye its repeated essays to give precision and\ndetail to the conception or ideal of knowledge.\n\nIn form the answer rendered to its request to itself for a definition,\nwas determined by the principle that the knowledge which was sought and\nalone, if found, could satisfy, was knowledge of the real, or as it was\nat first more simply expressed, of what is, or what really and veritably\nis. Refusing the name of knowledge except to what had this as its\nobject, men turned to consider the nature of the object which stood or\ncould stand in this relation. With this they contrasted what we, after\nthem, call the phenomena, the appearances, the manifold aspects,\nconstantly shifting with the shifting points of view of the observer or\nmany observers of it, inconstant, unsteady, superficial, mirrored\nthrough the senses and imagination, multiplied and distorted in\ndivergent and changing opinions, or misrepresented and even caricatured\nin the turbid medium of ordinary speech, like a clouded image on the\nbroken waters of a rushing stream. 'It'--so at first they spoke of the\nobject of true or 'philosophic' knowledge--was one and single, eternal\nand unchangeable, a universe or world-order of parts fixed for ever in\ntheir external relations and inward structure. In each and all of us\nthere was, as it were, a tiny mirror that could be cleared so as to\nreflect all this, and in so far as such reflection took place an inner\nlight was kindled in each which was a lamp to his path. Knowing--for to\nknow was so to reflect the world as it really was--knowing, man came to\nself-possession and self-satisfaction--to peace and joy--and was even\n'on this bank and shoal of time' raised beyond the reach of all\naccidents and evils of mortal existence--looking around and down upon\nall that could harm or hurt him and seeing it to be in its law-abiding\norderliness and eternal changelessness the embodiment of good. So\nviewing it, man learned to feel the Universe his true home, and was\ninspired not only with awe but with a high loyalty and public spirit.\n'The poet says \"Dear City of Cecrops\", and shall I not say \"Dear City of\nGod\"?'\n\nThe knowledge thus reached or believed to be attainable was more and\nmore discriminated from what was offered or supplied by Art or Science\nor Religion, though it was still often confused with each and all of\nthem. As opposed to that of Art, it was not direct or immediate vision\nflashed as it were upon the inner eye in moments of inspiration or\nexcitement; as opposed to that of Science, it was a knowledge that\npierced below the surface and the seeming of Nature and History; as\nopposed to that of Religion (which was rather faith than knowledge), it\nwas sober, unimaginative, cleansed of emotional accompaniment and\nadmixture, the 'dry light' of the wise soul. True to the principle which\nI have stated, ancient Philosophy proclaimed that the only knowledge in\nthe end worth having was knowledge of Fact--of what lay behind all\nseeming however fair--Fact unmodified and unmodifiable by human wish or\nwill; it bade us know the world in which we live and move and have our\nbeing, know it as it is truly and in itself, and knowing it love it,\nloyally acquiescing in its purposes and subserving its ends. In all this\nthere was progress (was there not?) to a view, to a truth (how else\nshall we speak of it?) which has always, when apprehended, begotten a\nhigh temper in heroic hearts. Surely in having reached in thought so\nhigh and so far the mind of man had progressed in knowledge and in\nwisdom.\n\nBut now a change took place, from which we must date the rise or birth\nof modern philosophy. Hitherto on the whole the mind of man had looked\noutward and sought knowledge of what lay or seemed to lie outside\nitself. So looking and gazing ever deeper it had encountered a spectacle\nof admirable and awe-compelling order, yet one which for that very\nreason seemed appallingly remote from, if not alien to, all human\nbusinesses and concerns. Now it turned inward and found within itself\nnot only matter of more immediate or pressing interest, but a world that\ncompelled attention, excited curiosity, rewarded study. Slowly and\ngradually the knowledge of this, the inner world--the world of the\nthinker's self--became the central object of philosophic reflection. The\nknowledge that was most required--that was all-important and\nindispensable (so man began explicitly to realize)--was knowledge of the\nSelf, not of the outer world that at best could never be more than\nknown, but of the self that knew or could know it, that could both know\nand be known. Henceforward what is studied is not knowledge of\nreality--of any and every reality--or of external reality, but knowledge\nof the Self which can know as well as be known. And the process by which\nit is sought is reflection, for the self-knowledge is not the knowledge\nof other selves, but the knowledge of just that Self which knows itself\nand no other. Thus the knowledge sought is once more and now finally\ndistinguished from the knowledge offered or supplied by Art or Science\nor Religion: not by Art, for the Self cannot appear and has no seeming\nnor can it any way be pictured or described or imagined; not by\nScience, for it lies beyond and beneath and behind all observation, nor\ncan it be counted or measured or weighed; not by Religion, for knowledge\nof it comes from within and the disclosure of its nature is by the\nself-witness of the Self to its self, not by revelation of any other to\nit. Thus there is disclosed the slowly-won and slowly-revealed secret of\nmodern Philosophy, that the knowledge which is indispensable, which is\nnecessary as the consummation and key-stone of all other knowledge, is\nknowledge of the knowing-self, self-knowledge, or, as it is sometimes\nmore technically called, self-consciousness, with the corollary that\nthis knowledge cannot be won by any methods known to or specially\ncharacteristic of Science or Art or Religion. To become self-conscious,\nto progress in self-consciousness is the end, and the way or means to it\nis by reflection--the special method of Philosophy.\n\nThis is the step in advance made by the modern spirit beyond all\ndiscoveries of the ancients; it is the truth by the apprehension of\nwhich the modern spirit and its world is made what it is. Not outside us\nlies Truth or the Truth: Truth dwelleth in the inner man--_in interiore\nhominis habitat veritas_. Is this not progress, progress in wisdom, and\nto what else can we ascribe the advance save to Philosophy?\n\nIt was one of the earliest utterances of modern Philosophy, and one\nwhich it has never found reason to retract, that the Self which knows\ncan and does know itself better than aught else whatsoever, and in that\nknowledge can without end make confident and sure-footed advance. To\nitself the Self is the most certain and the most knowable of all\nrealities--with this it is most acquainted, this it has light in itself\nto explore, of this it can confidently foresee and foretell the method\nof advance to further and further knowledge. It knows not only its\nexistence but its essence, its nature, and it knows by what procedure,\nby what ordered effort or exercise of will it can progress to height\nbeyond height of its self-knowledge. I say, it knows it, but it also\nknows that that knowledge cannot be attained all at once or taken\ncomplete and ready-made, for it _is_ itself a progress, a self-created\nand self-determined progress, and on that condition progress alone is or\nis real. For it to be is not to be at the beginning or at the end of\nthis process, but to be always coming to be, coming to be what it is not\nand yet also what it has in it to be. Of nothing else is Progress so\nintimately the essence and very being; if we ask 'What progresses or\nevolves?', the most certain answer is 'The spirit which is in man, and\nwhat it progresses in, is knowledge of itself, which is wisdom'.\nSpeaking of and for Philosophy I venture to maintain that nothing is\nmore certain than that that spirit which has created it has grown, is\ngrowing, and will ever grow in wisdom, and that by reflection upon\nitself and its history--nor can the gates of darkness and error prevail\nagainst the irresistible march of its triumphant progress.\n\nAs we look back the history of Philosophy seems strewn with the debris\nof outworn or outlived errors, but out of them all emerges this clear\nand assured truth, that in self-knowledge lies the master-light of all\nour seeing, inexhaustibly casting its rays into the retreating shadow\nworld that now surrounds us, melting all mists and dispelling all\nclouds, and that the way to it is unveiled, mapped and charted in\nadvance so that henceforward we can walk sure-footedly therein. Yet that\ndoes not mean that the work of Philosophy is done, that it can fold its\nhands and sit down, for only in the seeking is its prize found and there\nis no goal or end other than the process itself. For this too is its\ndiscovery, that not by, but in, endless reflection is the Truth\nconcerning it known, the Truth that each generation must ever anew win\nand earn it for itself. The result is not without the process, nor the\nend without the means: the fact _is_ the process and other fact there is\nnone. In other forms of so-called 'knowledge' we can sever the\nconclusion from its premisses, and the result can be given without the\nprocess, but with self-knowledge it is not so and no generation, or\nindividual, can communicate it ready-made to another, but can only point\nthe way and bid others help themselves. And if this, so put, seems hard\ndoctrine, I can only remind you that to philosophize has always meant\n'to think by and for oneself'.\n\nIt is perhaps more necessary to formulate the warning that what is here\ncalled self-knowledge and pronounced to constitute the very essence of\nthe spirit that is in man, is far removed from what sometimes bears its\nname, the extended and minute acquaintance by the individual mind with\nits individual peculiarities or idiosyncrasies, its weaknesses and\nvanities, its whims and eccentricities; nor is it to be confused with\nthe still wider acquaintance with those that make up our common human\nnature in all its folly and frailty which is sometimes called 'knowledge\nof human nature'; no, nor with such knowledge as psychological science,\nwith its methods of observation and induction and experiment, offers or\nsupplies. It is knowledge of something that lies far deeper within\nus--'the inward man', which is not merely alike or akin but is the same\nin all of us; beneath all our differences, strong against all our\nweaknesses, wise against all our follies, what each of us rightly calls\nhis true self and yet what is not his alone, but all men's also. As we\nreflect upon it duly, what discloses or reveals itself to us is a self\nwhich is both our very own and yet common or universal, the self of each\nand yet the self of all. The more we get to apprehend and understand it,\nthe more we become and know ourselves, not so much as being but as\nbecoming one with one another; the differences that sunder us in\nfeeling and thought and action melting away like mist. The removal of\nthese differences is just the unveiling of it, in which it at once comes\nto be and to be known. In coming to know it we create it. The unity of\nthe spirit thus becomes and is known as indubitable fact, or rather (I\nmust repeat) not as fact, as if it were or were anything before being\nknown, but as something which is ever more and more coming to be, in the\nmeasure in which it is coming to be known--known to itself. For this is\nthe hard lesson of modern philosophy, that our inmost nature and most\ngenuine self is not aught ready-made or given, but something which is\ncreated in and by the process of our coming to know it, which progresses\nin existence and substantiality and value as our knowledge of it\nprogresses in width and depth and self-assurance. The process is one of\ncreative--self-creative--evolution, in which each advance deposits a\nresult which prescribes the next step and supplies all the conditions\nfor it, and so constantly furnishes all that is required for an endless\nprogress in reality and worth. This is the process in which the spirit\nof man capitalizes and substantiates its activities, committing its\ngains to secure custody, amassing and using them for its\nself-enrichment--in which it depends on no other than itself and is\nsovereign master of its future and its fate. This is the way in which\nselves are made, or rather, make themselves.\n\nThis is the discovery of modern Philosophy, the now patent secret which\nit offers for the interpretation of all mysteries and the solving of all\nproblems--and it offers it with unquestioning assurance, for it has\nexplored the ground and has awakened to the true method of progress\nwithin it. And as I have said or implied, to the reflective mind regress\nis impossible, it cannot go back upon itself, and with due tenderness\nand gratitude it has set behind it the things of its unreflective\nchildhood. It stands on the stable foundation of the witness of the\nspirit within us to itself, to its own nature, its own powers and its\nown rights; it knows itself as the knower, the interpreter, the teacher,\nand therefore the master and maker of itself. Yet we must not identify\nor confuse this our deeper or deepest self which we thus create with the\nseparate selves or souls which each of us is; it is not any one of them\nnor all of them together, unless we give to the word 'together' a new\nand more pregnant sense than it has yet come to bear. It is not the\n'tribal' or 'collective' or 'social' self, for it is not made by\ncongregation or collection or association, but by some far more intimate\nunification than is signified by any of these terms, namely by coming\ntogether in and by knowledge. It is the spirit which is in us all and in\nwhich we all are, which is more yet not other than we, without which we\nare nothing and do nothing and yet which is veritably the spirit of man,\nthe immortal hero of all the tragedy and comedy--the whole drama--of\nhuman history; it is of this spirit as it is by it, that Philosophy has\nin repeated and resolute reflection come to know the nature and the\nmethod of its progress. Such knowledge has come into the world and\nprevails more widely and more potently than ever before; possessed in\nfullness by but a few, it is open and available to all and radiates as\nfrom a beacon light over the whole field of human experience; at that\nfire every man can light his candle. This is the light in which alone\nthe record of man's thoughts and achievements can be construed and which\nexhibits them as steps and stages on that triumphant march to higher and\nhigher levels such as alone we can rightly name Progress. Where else\nthan in History, and, above all, in the History of Knowledge, is\nProgress manifested, and in that where more certainly than in the\nunretreating and unrevoked advance towards a deeper, a truer, a wiser\nknowledge of itself by the spirit that is in and is, Man?\n\nYes, such knowledge, truth and wisdom now exists and is securely ours,\nthough to inherit it each generation and each individual must win it\nafresh and having won it must develop and promote it, or it ceases not\nonly to work but to be. For it exists only as it is made or rather only\nin the act and fact of its progress, and so for it not to progress is at\nonce to return to impotence and nothingness. And it is we who maintain\nit in being, maintaining it by endless reiterated efforts of reflection,\nand so maintaining it we maintain ourselves, resting or relying upon it\nand using it as a source of strength and a fulcrum or a platform for\nfurther effort. Upon self-knowledge in this sense all other 'knowledge'\nreposes; upon it and the knowledge of other selves and the world, which\nflows from it, depends the possibility of all practical advance. In the\ndark all progress is impossible.\n\nBut since this discovery was made and made good, the spirit of\nPhilosophy has not stood still; it has gone on, and is still going on,\nto extend and deepen and secure its conquests. Once more it has turned\nfrom its fruitful and enlightening concentration on the inner self and\nits life to review what lies or seems to lie around and outside it. It\nfinds that those who have stayed, or fallen, behind its audacious but\njustified advance in self-knowledge, still cherish a view of what is\nexternal to this (the true or real self so now made patent), thoughts or\nfancies which misconceive and misrepresent it--thoughts persisted in\nagainst the feebler protesting voices of Art and Religion and so held\nprecariously and unstably though apparently grounded upon the authority\nof Science. To the unphilosophic or not yet philosophic mind the spirit\nof man, already in imagination multiplied and segregated into individual\n'souls', appears to be surrounded with an environment of alien\ncharacter, often harsh to man's emotions, often rebellious or\nuntractable to his purposes, often impenetrable to his understanding,\nand in a word indifferent or hostile to his ideals and aspirations after\nprogress and good. Nay, the individual souls seem to act towards one\nanother separately and collectively as such hindrances, and again, each\nindividual soul seems to be encrusted with insuperable impediments. Even\nthe light within is enclosed in an opaque screen which prevents or\ncounteracts its outflow, so that the spirit within is as it were\nentombed or imprisoned. 'Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems us in,' we\ncannot communicate with one another or join with one another in thought\nor deed; and the hope of progress seems defeated by the recalcitrant\nmatter that shell upon shell encases us. The world of our bodies, of the\nbodies and spirits of others, and all the vast _compages_ of things and\nforces which we call 'Nature' blinds and baffles us, mocks our hopes and\nbreaks our hearts. How idle to dream that amidst and against all this\nneutrality or hostility any substantial or secure advance can be made!\n\nIn answer to all these thoughts, these doubts and fears, Philosophy is\nbeginning with increasing boldness to speak a word, not of mere comfort\nand consolation, but of secure and confident wisdom. All this so-called\n'external' nature and environment is not hostile or alien to the self or\nspirit which is in man, it is akin and allied to it as we now know it to\nbe. Whatever is real and not merely apparent in History or Nature is\nrational, is of the same stuff and character as that which is within us.\nIt too is spiritual, the appearance and embodiment of what is one in\nnature and mode of being with what lies deepest and is most potent in\nus. So far as it is not that, it is appearance and not reality, woven\nlike a dream by imagination or endowed with an unstable and shifting\nquasi-reality by our thoughts and suppositions and fancies about we\nknow not what. Not that it is an illusion, still less a delusion, rather\nwhat it is is the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual\nreality, a symbol beautiful, orderly, awe-inspiring yet mutilated,\npartial, confused, of something deeper and more real, the expression,\nthe face and gesture, of a spirit that, as ours does, knows itself, its\nown profound being and meaning, and does what it does in the light of\nsuch knowledge, a spirit which above all progresses endlessly towards\nand in a richer and fuller knowledge of itself. What we call\nFact--historical or natural--is essentially such an expression, on the\none hand a finished expression, set in the past and therefore for ever\nbeyond the possibility of change and so of progress, an exhausted or\ndead expression, on the other hand a passing into the light of what was\nbefore unknown even to the expresser's self, an act by which was made\nand secured a self-discovery or self-revelation, a creative act of\nself-knowledge and so significant and interpretable. This double\ncharacter of events in History and Nature is dimly descried in what we\nspecially call 'nature', but comes more fully into view in the sphere of\nhuman history, where each step is at once a deed and a discovery, a\ncontribution to the constitution of the world of fact and a fulguration\nof the light within illuminating facts as the condition of its own\ninexhaustible continuance. The world of Fact, artistic or aesthetic,\nscientific, moral, political, economic, is what the spirit builds round\nitself, creating it out of its own substance, while it itself in\ncreating it grows within, evolving out of itself into itself and\nadvancing in knowledge or wisdom and power. And out of its now securely\nwon self-knowledge it declares that it--itself--is the source and spring\nof all real fact whatsoever, which is its self-created expression, made\nby it in its own interests, and for its own good, the better and better\nto know itself. Nothing is or can be alien, still less hostile to it,\nfor 'in wisdom has it made them all'. Looking back and around it\nre-reads in all fact the results of its own power of self-expression.\nNothing is but what it has made.\n\nAll this might perhaps have been put very simply by saying that ever\nsince man has set himself to know his own mind in the right way, he has\nsucceeded better and better, and that in knowing his own mind he has\ncome to know and is still coming to know all else beside, including all\nthat at first sight seems other than, or even counter to, his own mind.\nHe has learned what manner of being he is, how that being has been made\nand how it continues to be made and developed, and again, how in the\ncourse of its self-creation and self-advance it deposits itself in\n'fact' and reflecting on that fact rises beyond and above itself in\nknowledge and power. He is mind or spirit, and what lies behind and\naround him is spiritual. As he reflects upon this the meaning of it\nbecomes ever more clear and distinct, ordered and organized, and at the\nsame time more substantial, more real, more lively and potent. In\nbecoming known what was before dead and dark and threatening or\nobstructive or hostile is made transparent, alive, utilisable,\ncontributing to the constantly growing self that knows and is known.\nHere is the growing point of reality, the _fons emanationis_ of truth\nand worth and being, evidencing its power not as it were in increase of\nbulk, but in the enhancing of value. And surely here is Progress, which\nconsists not in mere enlargement or expansion but in the heightening of\nforces to a new power--in a word, in their elevation to a more\nspiritual, a more intelligent and therefore more potent, level.\n\nTo the artistic eye the universe presents itself as a vast and moving\nspectacle, to the scientific mind as the theatre of forces which repeat\ntheir work with a mechanical uniformity or perhaps fatally run down to\na predestined and predictable final arrest, to the devout or religious\nsoul as the constant efflux of a beneficent will, unweariedly kind,\ncaring for the humblest of its creatures, august, worshipful, deserving\nof endless adoration and love, while to the philosophic mind it is known\nand ever more to be known as the self-expression of a mind in essence\none with all minds that know it in knowing themselves, know it as the\nwork or product of a mind engaged or absorbed in knowing itself, and so\ncreating itself and all that is requisite that it may learn more and\nmore what is hidden or stored from all eternity within its plenitude. At\nleast we may say that the conception of a Mind which in order to know\nitself creates the conditions of such knowledge, which wills to learn\nwhatever can be learned of itself from whatever it does, supplies the\nbest pattern or original after which to model our vaguer and more\nblurred conceptions of progressive existence and being elsewhere. It\nfurnishes to us an ideal of a progress which realizes or maintains and\nadvances itself, for it is independent upon external conditions. The\nProgress of Philosophy or of Wisdom is a palmary instance of progress\nachieved out of the internal resources of that which progresses. And\nafter this pattern we least untruly and least unworthily conceive the\nmode of that eternal and universal Progress which is the life of the\nWhole within and as part of which we live.\n\nThe aim of Philosophy is not edification but the possession and\nenjoyment of Truth, and the Truth may wear an aspect which, while it\nenlightens, also blinds or even at first appals and paralyses. And\ncertainly Reality or Philosophy as has come to know it and proclaims it\nto be, is not such as either directly to warm our hearts or stimulate\nour energies. Not to do either has Philosophy come into the world, nor\nso does it help to bring Progress about; nor does it offer prizes to\nthose who pursue either moral improvement or business success, nor\nagain does it increase that information concerning 'nature' and men\nwhich is the condition of the one and the other, yet to those who love\nTruth and who will buy no good at the sacrifice of it, what it offers is\nenough, and to progress towards and in it is for them worth all the\nworld beside; it is, if not the only real progress, that in the absence\nof which all other progress is without worth or substance or reality. In\nthe end, if any advance anywhere is claimed or asserted, must we not\nask: Is the claim founded on truth, is the good or profit seemingly\nattained a (or the) true good? To whom or to what is it good? Can we\nstop short of the endeavour to assure ourselves beyond question or doubt\nthat we are right in what answers we render? And where or by what means\ncan we reach this save by turning inward on meditation or reflection,\nthat is by philosophizing? [Greek: Ei philosopheteon philosopheteon, ei\nde me, philosopheteon; pantos ara philosopheteon]. Thither the mind of\nman has always turned when the burden of the mystery of its nature and\nfate has weighed all but intolerably upon it, and turning has never\nfound itself betrayed, but from knowledge of itself has drawn fresh hope\nand strength to resume the uninterrupted march of Progress which is its\nlife and its history, its being, its self-formation, in courage moving\nforwards in and towards the light. It is as if such light were not\nmerely the condition of its welfare, but the food on which it lived, the\nstuff which it transmuted into substance and energy, out of it making,\nmaintaining and building its very self. So under whatever name, whether\nwe call what we are doing Philosophy or something else, the search for\nmore and more light upon ourselves and our world is the most\nindispensable activity to which the leagued and co-operative powers of\nMan can be devoted. Fortunately it is also that in which success or\nfailure depends most certainly upon ourselves and in which Progress can\nwith most confidence be looked for. In it we cannot fail if we will to\ntake sufficient trouble; the means to it are open and available; it is\nour fault if we do not employ them and profit by them. If we have less\nwisdom than we might have, it is never any one's fault but our own. The\ndoor of the treasure-house of Wisdom stands ever open.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR REFERENCE\n\nC. C. J. Webb, _History of Philosophy_ (Home University Library).\n\nBurnet, _History of Greek Philosophy_.\n\nE. J. Bevan, _Stoics and Sceptics_.\n\nHoeffding, _History of Modern Philosophy_ (translated).\n\nRoyce, _The Spirit of Philosophy_.\n\nMerz, _History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century_.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nPROGRESS AS AN IDEAL OF ACTION\n\nJ. A. SMITH\n\n\nThroughout this course of lectures, now come to its close, we have\ntogether been engaged in a theoretical inquiry. We have been looking\nmainly towards the past, to something therefore for ever and in its very\nnature set beyond the possibility of alteration by us or indeed at all.\n'What is done not even God can make to be undone.' Were it otherwise it\ncould not be fact or reality and so not capable of being theorized or\nstudied. In the words of our programme we have analysed what is involved\nin the conception of Progress, shown when it became prominent in the\nconsciousness of mankind and how far the idea has been realized--that is\nhas become fact--in the different departments of life. We have taken\nProgress as a fact, something accomplished, and have attempted so taking\nit to explain or understand it. We have not indeed assumed that it is\nconfined to the past, but have at times enlarged our consideration so as\nto recognize its continuance in the present and to justify the hope of\nits persistence in the future. Some of us would perhaps go further and\nhold that it has, by these and similar reflections, come to be part of\nour assured knowledge that it must so continue and persist. But however\nwe have widened our purview, what we call Progress has remained to us a\ncourse or movement which still presents the appearance of a fact which\nis largely, if not wholly, independent of us--a fact because independent\nof us--to which we can occupy no other attitude than that of interested\nspectators, interested and concerned, moved or conditioned by it but not\nactive or co-operative in it. So far as it is in process of realization\nin the vast theatre of nature, inorganic or organic, dead or living,\nthat surrounds us, it pursues its course in virtue of powers not ours\nand unamenable to our control. And even when we view it within the\ncloser environment of human history its current seems to carry us\nirresistibly with it. Its existence is indeed of very practical concern\nto us, but apparently all we can do is to come to know it, and knowing\nit to allow for it as or among the set conditions of our self-originated\nor self-governed actions if such actions there be.\n\nThe clearer we have become as to the nature of Progress, the more it\nwould appear that it must be for us, because it is in itself, a fact to\nbe recognized in theory, taken into account and reckoned with. It is or\nit is not, comes to be or does not come to be, and what we have first\nand foremost to seek, is light upon its existence and character as it is\nor occurs. Light, we hope, has been cast upon it. We have learned that\nin its inmost essence and to its utmost bounds Reality--what lies\noutside and around us--is not fixed, rigid, immobile, was not and is not\nand cannot be as the ancient or mediaeval mind feigned or fabled,\nsomething beyond the reach of time and change--static or stationary--but\nis itself a process of ceaseless alteration. We have learned also to be\ndissatisfied with the compromise which, while acknowledging such\nalteration, all but withdraws it in effect by asserting it to be either\nin gross or in detail a process of mere repetition. The system of laws\nwhich science had taught us to consider as the truth of nature is itself\nnow known to be caught in the evolutionary process, and to be undergoing\na constant modification. As in the modern state, so in Nature, the\nlegislative power is not exhausted but incessantly embodies itself in\nnovel forms. Nature itself--_natura naturans_--is now conceived, and\nrightly conceived, as a power not bound to laws other than those which\nit makes for or imposes on itself, and as in its operations at least\nanalogous to a will self-determined, self-governing, creative of the\nways and means by which its purpose or purposes are achieved. What that\npurpose is we have begun to apprehend, and to see its various processes\nas converging or co-operating towards its fulfilment. In the\nmythological language which even Science is still obliged to use, we now\nspeak of Nature as 'selecting' or 'devising', and we ascribe to it a\nlarge freedom of choice wisely used. We can already at least define the\nprocess as guided towards a greater variety and fullness and harmony of\nlife, or (with a larger courage) as pointed towards a heightening or\npotentiation of life. So defining its goal we can sympathize with and\nwelcome the successful efforts made toward it, and so feel ourselves at\nheart one with the power that carries on the process in its aspirations\nand its efforts. But still, we cannot help feeling, it and all its ways\nlie outside us, and to us it remains an alien or foreign power. I\nventure to repeat my contention that this is so just because, however\nmuch we come to learn of its ways, we do not feel that we are coming to\nunderstand it any better, getting inside it, as we do get inside and\nunderstand human nature. Its progress is a change, perhaps a betterment,\nin our environment--in externals--and takes place very largely whether\nwe will and act or no. The larger our acquaintance with it, the more\ndoes its action seem to encroach upon the domain within which our\nvolitions and acts can make any difference. Even in social life we seem\nin the grip and grasp of forces which carry us towards evil or good\nwhether we will or no. _Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt._ The\nwhole known universe outside and around us presents to us the spectacle\nof what has been called a _de facto_ teleology, and just because it is\nso, and so widely and deeply so, it leaves little or no room for us to\nset up our ideals within it and to work for their realization. The fact\nthat the laws which prevail in it are modifiable and modified makes no\ndifference; they modify themselves, and in their different forms still\nconstrain us. And no matter how increasingly beneficent they may in\ntheir action appear, they are still despotic and we unfree. The rule of\nlaws which Science discovers encroaches upon our liberties and\nprivacies. What we had hitherto thought our very own, the movement of\nour impulses and desires and imaginations, are reported by science to be\nsubject to 'laws of association', and we are borne onwards even if also\nat times upwards on an irresistible flood. We remain bound by the iron\nnecessity of a fate that invades our inmost being--which will not let us\nanywhere securely alone. I repeat that it matters not how certainly the\ntrend of the tide, which sets everywhere around and outside us, is\ntowards what is good or best for us, it still is the case that it\npresents itself as neither asking for from us nor permitting to us the\nformation of any ideals of ours nor any prospect of securing them by our\nefforts. Were the fact of Progress established and conclusively shown to\nbe all-pervasive and eternal, it still would bear to us the aspect of a\npaternal government which did good to and for us, but all the more left\nless and less to ourselves.\n\nThis will doubtless be pronounced an exaggeration, and we may weakly\nrefuse to face the impression naturally consequent upon the progress we\nhave made in the ascertainment of the facts concerning the world in\nwhich we live. But does not the impression exist? The hateful and\ndesolating impression made on us earlier by the thought of a 'block'\nuniverse, once for all and rigidly fixed in unalterable and uniform\nsubjection to eternal and omnipresent law, has dissolved like the\nbaseless fabric of a vision. And why? Just because being found\nintolerable it was faced and put to the question. Now that there has\nbeen substituted for it the spectacle of a universe necessarily or\nfatally evolving--or, as we have said, progressing--does it not, while\nstill evoking the old awe or reverence, do anything but still daunt and\ndishearten us? What is our part, we ask, our very own part within all\nthis? What can we within it do? And the answer, that it is ours, if we\nwill, to enter into and live in the contemplation of all this no longer\nappeals to us. In such a progressive universe we can no longer feel\nourselves 'at home'. In it our active nature would seem to exist only to\nbe disappointed and rebuffed.\n\nThe only progress which we can care for is the progress which we\nourselves bring about, or can believe that we bring about, in ourselves\nor our fellows or in the world immediately around us. So long as what is\nso named is something devised and executed by a power not our own--not\nthe same as our own--it may call out from us gratitude and reverence,\nbut the spectacle of the reality of such Progress cannot exercise the\nattractive force nor, so far as it is realized, beget that creative joy\nwhich accompanies even humble acts in which we set an ideal of our own\nbefore ourselves, and see it through our efforts emerge into actual\nexistence. A practical ideal must be through and through of our own\nmaking. It must be devised by us and set to ourselves for our pursuit,\nand its coming to be, or be real, must be our doing. The very idea of it\nmust be our own, not given or prescribed, still less imposed, and the\nprocess towards it must be our doing too. That there should, on their\nview of it, ever be protest and rebellion against its tyrannous demands\nappears to me reasonable and right, and those who make it to be guarding\nthe immediate jewel of man's nature. We should, we might say, if this\nwere the whole truth about the universe, acknowledge ourselves as its\nsons bound to gratitude and obedience because of the fatherly care for\nus, but it would be an essential complement to our family loyalty that\nwe should insist upon and make good our claims to be grown-up sons and\nfellow citizens, declining to pronounce it wholly good, if those claims\nwere denied to us. Now all these conditions seem to make straight\nagainst the possibility of regarding Progress, in the view of it we have\nhitherto taken, as an ideal of our action.\n\nIn view of this character of the known fact of Progress, so discouraging\nand disabling to our active or practical nature, certain suggestions\nhave been made which are thought to relieve us from these effects. It is\nsaid sometimes that this fatal--if beneficent or beneficial, still\nfatal--progress leaves as it were certain interstices in the universe\nwithin which it loses its constraining force, petty provinces but\nsufficient, where man is master and determines all events, from which\neven, it is sometimes conceded, some obscure but important influences\nare permitted to flow, modifying his immediate surroundings, little\nsanctuaries where the spirit that is in him and is his devises and\nrealizes ideals of its own. But the notion of such sacrosanct and\ninviolable autonomies is being steadily undermined, and they are felt,\nas science becomes more dominant over our imaginations and emotions, to\nbe no more than eddies in the universal stream, only apparently distinct\nand self-maintained, means made and broken for its purpose, really\nproducts and instruments of the world-progress. At any rate, it has been\ndenied that they can rightfully be thought to stand outside it or\nthemselves to exercise any effect upon their fortunes and their fate,\nstill less upon their environment. Another suggestion fully and frankly\nacknowledges this, but though denying to us any power to affect either\nthe form or the direction of the currents on which we are borne along,\ndeclares still open to us the possibility of affecting their speed, and\nbids us find satisfaction in the thought that by taking thought or\nresolve we can hasten or delay their and the universal movement. Still\nanother view, abandoning even that hope, proclaims one last choice open\nto us, namely, that of sullen submission to, or glad and loyal\nacquiescence in, its irresistible sway. But surely all these suggestions\nare idle, and but for a moment conceal or postpone the inevitable\nconclusion that if Progress was, is and must or will be, that is, is\nnecessary, what we think or do makes no difference, and can make no\ndifference to or in it. Whether or no we convert the fact into an ideal,\nwhether or no we set it before as our aim and exert ourselves to work\nfor it, it goes on its way all the same. Either then it is not a fact,\nnever was, and never will be a fact, or it is no possible ideal for\nwhich we can act. To be or become a fact, it must be independent of our\naction or our consent or our liking; if it is not all these it is not an\nideal of action, or at any rate not so for us. I must repeat that what\nis or can be an ideal of action for us must be wholly and solely of our\nmaking, the very thought of it self-begotten in our mind, every step to\nits actual existence the self-created deed of our will. Not that either\nidea or act comes into being in a void or without suggestion and\nassistance from without us, but still so that the initiative lies in\nwhat we think or do, and so that without us it is unreal and impossible.\nIt is enough, indeed, that we should be contributory, but the ideal must\nbe such that without our irreplaceable co-operation it must fail. The\nonly Progress in which we can take an active interest or make an ideal\nof action, is one which we conceive and execute, and that the fact we\ncall Progress is not.\n\nSo far we have found much argument to show that what we have hitherto\ncalled Progress is not and cannot be an ideal of action, or at least of\nour action. And now we must face another argument more plain and\napparently fatal, indeed, specially or peculiarly fatal. For the very\nnotion of Progress is of a process which continues without end, or we\nhave the dilemma that it is either endless or runs to an end in which\nthere is no longer Progress but something else. In either case it is not\nitself an end or the end, and whatever an ideal of action is, it must be\nan end--something beyond which there is nothing, which has no Beyond at\nall. To set before oneself as an ideal of action what one certainly\nknows to be incapable of attainment or accomplishment, incapable of\ncoming to an end--that is surely futile and vain. Without a best, better\nor better-and-better has no meaning, and when the best is reached\nProgress is no more.\n\nThe objection may be put in various ways, as thus. What we seek or want\nor work for, is to be satisfied, and satisfaction is a state, not a\nprocess or a progress. Or again, acting is a process of seeking, seeking\nand striving for something, and surely the seeking cannot itself be the\nobject of the search. Or once more, what we act for is, as we must\nconceive it, something complete, finished, perfect, but Progress is\nessentially something incomplete, unfinished, imperfect. We all feel\nthis, and at times at least the thought that what we seek flies ever\nbefore, affrights and paralyses: recoiling from such a prospect, we set\nbefore our imaginations as the reward or result of our labours, not\nmovement but rest, not creation or production but consumption and\nfruition. We dream of one day coming to participate in a life or\nexperience so good that there is no change from less good to more good\npossible within it, and which, if it can be said to progress at all,\nonly, in Milton's magnificent words, 'progresses the dateless and\nirrevoluble circle of its own perfections, joining inseparable hands\nwith joy and bliss in over-measure for ever'. Once this ideal has\npresented itself to our hopes or desires, it degrades by comparison with\nit to a second-best, the former ideal of endless development from lower\nto higher. What we want and seek is to be there, to have done with\ngetting there. 'Here is the house of fulfilment of craving, this is the\ncup with the roses around it.' Compared with this, how disconsolate a\nprospect is that 'of the sea that hath no shore beyond it, set in all\nthe sea'--the endless voyage or quest. Not Progress is or can be the\nend, but achievement and the enjoyment of it. The progress is towards\nand for the end; the end is the supreme good and the progress is only\ngood because of it, because it is on the way that leads to it, the way\nwe are content to travel only because it leads there. Once more, and on\nstill surer grounds, we must pronounce what we have come to know as\nProgress to be no possible ideal of action. What draws us on is the hope\nof something to be attained in and by the progress. To take Progress,\nwhich on the one hand is a fact and on the other is an incomplete fact,\nto be the end of our striving and our doing is to acquiesce in a\nself-contradiction.\n\nYet the counter-ideal of a state in which we shall simply rest from our\nlabours and sit down to enjoy the fruits of them does not promise\nsatisfaction either, and so cannot be the end or ideal. Our desire and\nour endeavour is not for a moveless, changeless, undeveloping\nperfection. In fact, so often as the dream of such a state attained has\npresented itself, it has to thoughtful minds appeared anything but\nattractive or desirable. Our desire is to go on, and for that we are\nwilling to pay a price--nay, it is for more than merely to go on, it is\nto advance and increase in perfection, so much so that the ideal itself\nonce more slews round into its opposite and the search appears worth\nmore than the attainment. It seems that we were not on the other view so\nwholly wrong, but must try so to frame our ideal of action as to unite\nboth characters and satisfy both demands at once, so that it shall be at\nonce a state and a movement or process, an achievement and a progress, a\nrest or quiet and a striving after it, a perfection and a perfecting.\nThe combination at first sight appears impossible. Yet both characters\nit must combine. Here again, I must confess that the idea of mere\nProgress, even as achieved by our own efforts, seems to me to omit\nsomething essential to an ideal of action--of what is worth while our\nacting for. What is to be an ideal of action must have the character of\na fulfilment--something to be consumed, not merely eternally added to.\nFor this character of the (or any) ideal of action the best name is\nfruition or enjoyment. And the defect in the conception of it as\nProgress is that it seems to postpone this without a date.\n\nLet us put this truth which we have discovered concerning Progress in a\nnutshell, hiding or disregarding the internal contradiction. What is the\nnature, what is the kind of reality, which we have learned to ascribe to\nProgress (for we did pronounce it real and essentially capable of being\nrealized)? It is that it is fact, yet fact not made but in the making;\nit is just the name for what is real only through and in the process of\nbecoming real or being realized. Now I have already elsewhere pointed\nout that while a realization which is also a reality, or a reality which\nis also a realization, is in nature or what is external to us a mystery\nand a puzzle, it is just when we look inwards the open secret of our\nbeing; in our life or action regarded from within, it appears as\nsomething which is only dark because it is so close and familiar to us\nthat inspection of it is difficult, not because it is in itself opaque\nor unintelligible. To its exemplification or illustration there we must\nturn for light upon our problem.\n\nLet us for the time disregard the pressure exercised upon us by the\nsuggestions of physical science, or even, I may add, popular and\nimaginative or opinionative--which is Latin for 'dogmatic'--Religion,\nand examine how Progress takes place, or is realized and real, within\nour spirits, or that spirit which is within us. The inward process is\none by which that spirit is or is real only in the act or fact of being\nor coming to be realized, or rather of realizing itself, and the way in\nwhich it so becomes or makes itself real is by acknowledging its own\npast, treating it as fact, recognizing its failures or imperfections\ntherein, projecting on the future an idea or ideal of itself, suggested\nby those apprehended wants or defects, of what it might be, and using\nthat to supply itself with both energy and guidance, drawing from its\nown past both strength and light. In all this it acts autonomously, out\nof itself, and creates both the requisite light and the indispensable\nforce, making its very limitations into new sources and reservoirs of\nboth.\n\nWe do not sufficiently note and hold and use the indubitable truth that,\nin contradistinction to what we call Nature, the forces of the spirit\nreinforce and re-create themselves in their use, are in their use not\nconsumed but reinvigorated, not dissipated or degraded but recollected\nand elevated, not expended but enhanced. There is in the realm of spirit\nwhich is our nature and our world no law of either the conservation or\nthe degradation of energy. We must not allow ourselves to be brow-beaten\nby arguments drawn from the obscurer region of physical and external\nnature. We know ourselves to be energies or energizing powers which\nincrease and do not waste by exercise. That is what we ought to mean by\nsaying that we are wills and not forces, spiritual not physical or\nnatural beings. If need be to confirm ourselves in this knowledge, let\nus think of what takes place, has taken place in the advance of\nknowledge, and particularly of the most important kind of knowledge,\nviz. self-knowledge, how we make it by our reflection upon what we have\nalready in respect of it achieved, recognize how it or we have fallen\nshort or over-shot our mark, define what is required to make good its\ndeficiencies, and find ourselves thereby already in actual possession of\nthe preconceived supplement. The real, the fact, what is attained or\naccomplished in and by us, prescribes and facilitates, or rather\nsupplies, its own missing complement of perfection. The process carries\nitself on, the progress realizes itself, the ideal translates itself\ninto the fact or actuality: it accomplishes itself and yet it is the\ndoing of our very self, of the spirit within us. All this is not merely\nour doing, it is our being, it is the process by which we make our\nminds, our souls, our very selves or self.\n\nThat man is essentially an, or rather the, ideal-forming animal (or\nrather spirit) has long been noted, and also that the formation of\nideals is an indispensable factor in his progress, which is his life and\nvery being. But all the same, this is sometimes put in such a way as to\nmake action, or at least human action, a dispensable accident in the\nuniverse, an ineffective and unsubstantial unreality, while at the same\ntime those who put it thus, profess to see through the illusion and to\nenjoy moments of insight which recognize its nullity. This way of\nputting it in my judgement intolerably misconceives and misrepresents\nthe truth.\n\nOur ideals of action must be self-made or self-begotten, but yet they\nmust be congruent with known fact; but the manner of such congruence is\nhard to see, hard to express. Ideals cannot be themselves facts, and\ntherefore cannot be known, but on the other hand they cannot be mere\nimaginations or suppositions or beliefs, still less, of course,\nillusions or delusions. They are not visionary, and the apprehension of\nthem is a sort or degree of perception. They point beyond themselves to\nsome higher fact which is not cognizable by our senses or perhaps our\nunderstanding, but which is yet genuinely cognizable and so in some high\nsense fact. Yet they are not, as we envisage them, the fact to which\nthey point, but a substitute for or representative of that--an\nanticipation of or prevision of it, a symbol of a fact. Their own kind\nor degree of reality is sometimes called 'validity'--a term I do not\nlike: it might be more simply named 'rightness' with the connotation of\na certain incumbency and imperativeness as well as of an appeal or\nadjustment to our nature as we know it; or perhaps all we can say is\nthat their reality--it seems a paradox that an ideal should possess\n'reality'--consists in their suggestiveness of modes of action and their\napplicability to it, all this being supported by the conception of a\nstate of affairs beyond and around us which makes it 'right'.\n\nIf all this is so, Progress as an ideal of action cannot be precisely\nidentical with Progress as a fact or object of actual or possible\nknowledge. We can never know what we are aiming at. But though\ndifferent, the two are and must be congruent, and this may be enough to\njustify us in using the one name for the two. Unless there were Progress\nas fact everywhere and always in the universe--outside us--in Nature and\nHistory, and unless we took ourselves genuinely to apprehend this, we\ncould not form the practical ideal of Progress, or at least the ideal\ncould not be right. But the difference remains, and we must be prepared\nfor and allow for it; though we can use the knowledge we obtain of the\nfact of Progress to control and guide our formulation of the practical\nideal, we cannot identify the one with the other. Our imagining and our\nsupposing of what is best for or obligatory upon us to do or work for,\nmust go on under conditions--the conditions of what we know as to the\nnature of ourselves and our surroundings--and yet under these conditions\nhas a very large liberty or autonomy.\n\nThe Progress which is to serve as a practical ideal is not and cannot be\nthe Progress that we know, but must be the result of imagination or\nsupposition, and it is high and necessary wisdom to trust our\nimaginations and aspirations. The forms which it rightly takes cannot be\ndetermined by what we have learned in or from the past; it cometh not\nwith observation, and the sources of experience cannot of themselves\nsupply us with it, and though it comes in and with experience, it does\nnot come from or out of it. Yet it is due to an impression made upon us\nby the Universe as we by our faculties apprehend it, and is not merely\nsubjective or of subjective origin. Begotten of the imagination, it is\nappearance, not ultimate reality, and it cannot be thought out or wholly\nevacuated of mystery and perplexity. Is this not involved in the\nlanguage we use of it, proclaiming it practical and therefore not\ntheoretical?\n\nNevertheless, while I must acknowledge this insuperable difference\nbetween the Progress we can make our end or ideal and the Progress we\nbelieve that in ourselves and around us we apprehend, I still would lay\nrenewed stress upon the congruence and affinity of the two, and urge\nthat the perception of the one--the Progress without us--and the pursuit\nof the other--the Progress within us--support and fertilize each the\nother. The more we know or can learn of the one the more effectively do\nwe pursue the other, and conversely. The light and the fruits are bound\ntogether: the theory and the practice of Progress cannot be dissevered\nwithout the ruin of both.\n\nThe ideal of Progress which we present to ourselves is and must be one\nwhich is partly determined or limited by past achievement and partly\nenlarged by the study of what powers higher than our own have\naccomplished and are accomplishing. The formation of it must move\nconstantly between a respect for what has been achieved and a worship,\nso to speak, for what is far better than anything that yet has been or\nbecome fact, and therefore incumbent or imperative upon us.\n\nThe mode and manner of the Progress which is achieved in the Universe\nhas become in various ways clearer to us and opens out undreamt-of\npossibilities, and our assurance of its reality is ever more and more\nconfirmed, while on the other hand its actual or past results at the\nlower level of nature have grown and are growing more familiar. We see\nthat Progress is the essential and therefore eternal form of life and\nspiritual being, which endows it everywhere with worth and substance.\nWith this comes the conviction that the source of all this lies inward,\nin that inwardness where our true selves lie and springs from the very\nnature of that. The spirit which is within us is not other than the\nspirit which upholds and maintains the whole Universe and works after\nthe same fashion. And with regard to this its manner of working, we have\nlearned that it proceeds by taking account of its own past achievements,\nimagining or conceiving for itself tasks relevant to these but not\nlimited by them, and finds in that the conditions and stimulus to their\nactualization. It is our business to imitate this procedure and so to\ncontribute to the advance of the whole. No work so done is or can be\nlost. We are justified in supposing that in so doing we are leagued\ntogether in effective co-operation with one another and with all other\nforces at work in the whole. In and through us, though not in and\nthrough us only, Progress goes on, drawing us along with it. Inner and\nouter Progress, free allegiance and loyal subjection concur and do not\nclash, and the world in which we live and act appears to us as it is--a\ncity of God which is also a self-governed and self-administered city of\nfree men.\n\nBut above all, what it prescribes to us is the duty--another name for\n'the ideal of action'--to seek first light as to the true nature of our\nworld and ourselves, dismissing and disregarding all appearance, however\ncharming or seductive. Unless we learn to see Progress as universal and\nomnipresent and omnipotent, we shall set before ourselves ideals of\naction which are false and treacherous. We must exert ourselves not\nmerely to apprehend, but to dwell in the apprehension and vision of it.\n\nAnd if there were no other reason, we should know it for the right\nideal--this command first to seek light--because it is the hardest thing\nthat can be asked of us or that we can ask of ourselves. But what is\nthus asked is not mere Faith and Hope, but a loyal adherence to the\nknowledge which is within us.\n\nIs this not the hardest? To-day, when over there in France and Flanders,\nand indeed almost all over Europe, as in a sort of Devil's smithy, men\nare busied in the most horrid self-destruction. The accumulated stores\nof age-long and patient industry are being consumed and annihilated; the\nworks and monuments of civilized life are laid low: all physical and\nintellectual energies are bent to the service of destruction. The very\nsurface of the kindly and fertile earth is seamed and scarred and\nwasted. And the human beings who live and move in this inferno, are\njerked like puppets hither and thither by the operation of passions to\nwhich we dare not venture to give names, lest we be found either not\ncondemning what defiles and imbrutes our nature or denying our meed of\npraise and gratitude to what ennobles it. All this portentous activity\nand business flows from no other fount and is fed by no other spring\nthan the spirit which is within us, that spirit which has created that\nwealth, material, artistic, spiritual, which it is so busily engaged in\nwrecking and undoing. It is still as of old, making History, making it\nin the old fashion with the old ends in view and by the exercise of its\nold familiar powers. And if in this tragic scene or episode we cannot\nstill read the features of Progress, our theory is a baseless dream, and\nwe can frame no valid or 'right' ideal of action. For except to an\nenvironment known to be still, because always, the work and\nself-expression of a spirit akin to, and indeed identical with our own,\nand except as knowing ourselves to be still, because always, in all our\nways of working its vehicles and instruments, we can neither define nor\nrealize any ideals of action at all. This war is not an accident, nor an\noutburst of subterranean natural forces, but the act and deed of human\nwill, and being so it cannot be merely evil.\n\nWhat, then, can we read not into, but out of, the tragic spectacle now\nbeing enacted, not merely before but in, through, and by us? Unless we\nhave all along been mistaken, the victims of mere delusion and error,\nhere, too, there has been and still is Progress. Primarily and\nprincipally what is taking place, is a tremendous revelation of the\npotencies which in our nature--in that which makes us men--have escaped\nour notice and therefore, because unseen or ignored, working in the\ndark, have not yet been drawn upon and utilized. There has been and\nstill is going on, an enormous increase of self-knowledge. At first\nsight this seems wholly an opening up of undreamt-of evil. Side by side\nthere has come to us a parallel revelation of undreamt-of good. I must\nbear witness to my conviction that we are beholding a tremendous inrush\nor uprush of good into man and his world. But what I wish to dwell upon\nis the growing and ever-confirmed revelation of an intimate relation or\nconnexion between the two which is the very spring of Progress, viz.\nthat the supply of good is not only adequate and more than adequate to\nthe utmost demand made upon it, in the combating of the evil, and that\nfor this reason, that while on the one hand the evil that impedes or\ncounter-works the good is itself of spiritual origin, its existence and\npower is conditioned by the law that it must evoke and stimulate the\nvery power which it attempts to crush and defeat. This is, as I have\nsaid, the now discovered and known spring of Progress both within and\nwithout us, that whatsoever is evil, evil just because it is enacted and\ndoes not merely occur, passes within the reach of knowledge and\nunderstanding, and in the measure that it passes into the light, not\nmerely loses its sting and its force, but is convertible and converted\ninto a strengthening condition of that which in its first appearance it\nseemed merely to thwart. Even regress is seen to be a necessary incident\nin progress, and the seasons which we call periods of decadence to be\noccasions in which the spirit progresses in secret, recruiting itself\nnot by idleness or rest, but genuinely refreshing and recreating itself.\n\nThe view here suggested is no sentimental optimism. The drama of the\nuniverse is no comedy or even melodrama, but a tragedy or epic of\nheroism, and more especially is this the character of the history of the\nspirit which is in Man and is Man. The evil we enact is real evil, the\nonly real evil, the checks which our disobedience or disloyalty imposes\nupon the course of good, are genuine retardations or frustrations;\nnevertheless they are not wholly evil, for nothing is such, but are the\nmeans which the spirit that has begotten them, utilizes in its eternal\nProgress and wins out of them a richness, a complex and varied harmony\nto which they are compelled to contribute. Our ideal of action must\ntherefore in principle acknowledge as essential, what I have called the\n'tragic' character suggested by the spectacle of the war, the fear and\nagony which we imagine in Nature and comprehendingly discern in human\nhistory. The Progress which we can achieve or contribute to--which we\ncan make our ideal of action--is one which cannot rightly be conceived\notherwise than in its essence a victory over evil, and that it may be\nevil, it must come and be done in the dark. For the spirit in\nprogressing deposits what, being abandoned by it, corrupts into venomous\nevil, but except in meeting and combating that, it cannot progress. And\nit can only combat it by getting to know it, for in darkness and\nignorance it can make no secure advance.\n\nIt has been profoundly said that to know all is to forgive all. Let us\nrather say that in coming to know its own past, the Spirit which is in\nMan can without undoing it--that it cannot--make it contributory to its\nown wealth of being, can, as I have said, utilize it for its own\npurposes, which are summed up in the knowing of itself. There is and can\nbe nothing in its deeds which it cannot know, and so digest and\nassimilate and absorb into its own substance.\n\nIn this interpretation of the meaning--the veiled but not hidden meaning\nof what has taken place and is taking place in the world--or rather in\nus and enacted by us, I seem to myself not to be expressing any private\nimagination or supposition which may or may not be so, but a certainty\nthat it must be so. Either it is so or 'the pillared firmament is\nrottenness and earth's base built on stubble'. And this means that\neverywhere and always, but most specially and centrally and potently in\nman's spirit, there is Progress, in spite of checks and hindrances which\ncome from within it, a constant if chequered advance in true worth or\nvalue. And that knowledge I build on grounded and reasoned hope that it\nwill and must continue--how, I do not know, but can only surmise and\nconjecture and imagine.\n\nTo the question, What, then, ought we to do? I can only reply first and\nforemost, Labour to retain this truth, fostering and developing it,\nverifying it as we have been doing in all the varied departments of\nhuman experience, exercising our imaginations while at the same time\nsobering and controlling them by the light that comes from it. If we are\ntrue to it and do not through slackness forget and lose it, we shall\nfind arising spontaneously out of the depths of our self worthy and\nfeasible ideals of action, the pursuit of which will not betray us or\nleave us without an ever-growing assurance that in bending and directing\nall our powers to their realization we are the agents of that Progress\nwhich is the source of all being and all worth whatsoever. If we will to\nlearn from our own past, we can convert anything that is evil in it into\nan occasion, an opportunity, a means to good which without it were not\npossible. Thus we can even do what seems utterly impossible, for we can\nwithout forgetting or ignoring or denying, forgive ourselves even the\nevil which we have done. Yes, even the darkest and worst evil, the\ndisloyalty to ourselves, to the best and deepest within us, which all\nbut achieved the impossibility of finally defeating the march of\nProgress. For the basis and ground of our belief in the reality, and\ntherefore the eternity, of Progress lies in this, that the now known\nnature of the Spirit which is in Man and not in Man alone, is that it\ncan heal any wounds that it can inflict upon itself, can find in its own\nerrors and failures, in its own mistakes and misdeeds, if it only will,\nthe materials of richer and fuller and worthier life.\n\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+\n  | Transcriber's Notes                                          |\n  |                                                              |\n  | Page 26: Opening and closing quotes added to \"Beg humbly     |\n  | that he unlock the door.\"                                    |\n  | Page 89: _Suma Theologica_ _sic_                             |\n  | Page 92: course amended to coarse                            |\n  | Page 165: preventible amended to preventable                 |\n  | Page 299: missing word \"is\" added (\"so far as it is          |\n  | realized\")                                                   |\n  |                                                              |\n  | The footnote number is for footnote 81 is missing in the     |\n  | original text. The location of the number that has been      |\n  | added is only an assumption.                                 |\n  |                                                              |\n  | Discrepancies between the Table of Contents and chapter      |\n  | headings (\"Government\"/\"Progress in Government\";             |\n  | \"Industry\"/\"Progress in Industry\"; \"Art\"/\"Progress in Art\";  |\n  | \"Science\"/\"Progress in Science\" and \"Philosophy\"/\"Progress   |\n  | in Philosophy\") have been retained.                          |\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+","title":"Progress and History","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":99580}