{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39273/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39273","id":"gutenberg_39273","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39273","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Ancient","Category: History - European","Category: History - Medieval/Middle Ages","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics","Europe -- Moral conditions"],"text":"History of\n\n                             European Morals\n\n                       From Augustus to Charlemagne\n\n                                    By\n\n                   William Edward Hartpole Lecky, M.A.\n\n                              Ninth Edition\n\n                              In Two Volumes\n\n                                 Vol. 1.\n\n                                  London\n\n                         Longmans, Green, And Co.\n\n                                   1890\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nAdvertisement To The Third Edition.\nPreface.\nChapter I. The Natural History Of Morals.\nChapter II. The Pagan Empire.\nChapter III. The Conversion Of Rome.\nFootnotes\n\n\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION.\n\n\nI have availed myself of the interval since the last edition, to subject\nthis book to a minute and careful revision, removing such inaccuracies as\nI have been able myself to discover, as well as those which have been\nbrought under my notice by reviewers or correspondents. I must especially\nacknowledge the great assistance I have derived in this task from my\nGerman translator, Dr. H. Jolowicz\u2014now, unhappily, no more\u2014one of the most\nconscientious and accurate scholars with whom I have ever been in\ncommunication. In the controversial part of the first chapter, which has\ngiven rise to a good deal of angry discussion, four or five lines which\nstood in the former editions have been omitted, and three or four short\npassages have been inserted, elucidating or supporting positions which had\nbeen misunderstood or contested.\n\n_January 1877._\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe questions with which an historian of Morals is chiefly concerned are\nthe changes that have taken place in the moral standard and in the moral\ntype. By the first, I understand the degrees in which, in different ages,\nrecognised virtues have been enjoined and practised. By the second, I\nunderstand the relative importance that in different ages has been\nattached to different virtues. Thus, for example, a Roman of the age of\nPliny, an Englishman of the age of Henry VIII., and an Englishman of our\nown day, would all agree in regarding humanity as a virtue, and its\nopposite as a vice; but their judgments of the acts which are compatible\nwith a humane disposition would be widely different. A humane man of the\nfirst period might derive a keen enjoyment from those gladiatorial games,\nwhich an Englishman, even in the days of the Tudors, would regard as\natrociously barbarous; and this last would, in his turn, acquiesce in many\nsport which would now be emphatically condemned. And in addition to this\nchange of standard, there is a continual change in the order of precedence\nwhich is given to virtues. Patriotism, chastity, charity, and humility are\nexamples of virtues, each of which has in some ages been brought forward\nas of the most supreme and transcendent importance, and the very basis of\na virtuous character, and in other ages been thrown into the background,\nand reckoned among the minor graces of a noble life. The heroic virtues,\nthe amiable virtues, and what are called more especially the religious\nvirtues, form distinct groups, to which, in different periods, different\ndegrees of prominence have been assigned; and the nature, causes, and\nconsequences of these changes in the moral type are among the most\nimportant branches of history.\n\nIn estimating, however, the moral condition of an age, it is not\nsufficient to examine the ideal of moralists. It is necessary also to\nenquire how far that ideal has been realised among the people. The\ncorruption of a nation is often reflected in the indulgent and selfish\nethics of its teachers; but it sometimes produces a reaction, and impels\nthe moralist to an asceticism which is the extreme opposite of the\nprevailing spirit of society. The means which moral teachers possess of\nacting upon their fellows, vary greatly in their nature and efficacy, and\nthe age of the highest moral teaching is often not that of the highest\ngeneral level of practice. Sometimes we find a kind of aristocracy of\nvirtue, exhibiting the most refined excellence in their teaching and in\ntheir actions, but exercising scarcely any appreciable influence upon the\nmass of the community. Sometimes we find moralists of a much less heroic\norder, whose influence has permeated every section of society. In\naddition, therefore, to the type and standard of morals inculcated by the\nteachers, an historian must investigate the realised morals of the people.\n\nThe three questions I have now briefly indicated are those which I have\nespecially regarded in examining the moral history of Europe between\nAugustus and Charlemagne. As a preliminary to this enquiry, I have\ndiscussed at some length the rival theories concerning the nature and\nobligations of morals, and have also endeavoured to show what virtues are\nespecially appropriate to each successive stage of civilisation, in order\nthat we may afterwards ascertain to what extent the natural evolution has\nbeen affected by special agencies. I have then followed the moral history\nof the Pagan Empire, reviewing the Stoical, the Eclectic, and the Egyptian\nphilosophies, that in turn flourished, showing in what respects they were\nthe products or expressions of the general condition of society, tracing\ntheir influence in many departments of legislation and literature, and\ninvestigating the causes of the deep-seated corruption which baffled all\nthe efforts of emperors and philosophers. The triumph of the Christian\nreligion in Europe next demands our attention. In treating this subject, I\nhave endeavoured, for the most part, to exclude all considerations of a\npurely theological or controversial character, all discussions concerning\nthe origin of the faith in Palestine, and concerning the first type of its\ndoctrine, and to regard the Church simply as a moral agent, exercising its\ninfluence in Europe. Confining myself within these limits, I have examined\nthe manner in which the circumstances of the Pagan Empire impeded or\nassisted its growth, the nature of the opposition it had to encounter, the\ntransformations it underwent under the influence of prosperity, of the\nascetic enthusiasm, and of the barbarian invasions, and the many ways in\nwhich it determined the moral condition of society. The growing sense of\nthe sanctity of human life, the history of charity, the formation of the\nlegends of the hagiology, the effects of asceticism upon civic and\ndomestic virtues, the moral influence of monasteries, the ethics of the\nintellect, the virtues and vices of the decaying Christian Empire and of\nthe barbarian kingdoms that replaced it, the gradual apotheosis of secular\nrank, and the first stages of that military Christianity which attained\nits climax at the Crusades, have been all discussed with more or less\ndetail; and I have concluded my work by reviewing the changes that have\ntaken place in the position of women, and in the moral questions connected\nwith the relations of the sexes.\n\nIn investigating these numerous subjects, it has occasionally, though\nrarely, happened that my path has intersected that which I had pursued in\na former work, and in two or three instances I have not hesitated to\nrepeat facts to which I had there briefly referred. I have thought that\nsuch a course was preferable to presenting the subject shorn of some\nmaterial incident, or to falling into what has always the appearance of an\nunpleasing egotism, by appealing unnecessarily to my own writings.\nAlthough the history of the period I have traced has never, so far as I am\naware, been written from exactly the point of view which I have adopted, I\nhave, of course, been for the most part moving over familiar ground, which\nhas been often and ably investigated; and any originality that may be\nfound in this work must lie, not so much in the facts which have been\nexhumed, as in the manner in which they have been grouped, and in the\nsignificance that has been ascribed to them. I have endeavoured to\nacknowledge the more important works from which I have derived assistance;\nand if I have not always done so, I trust the reader will ascribe it to\nthe great multitude of the special histories relating to the subjects I\nhave treated, to my unwillingness to overload my pages with too numerous\nreferences, and perhaps, in some cases, to the difficulty that all who\nhave been much occupied with a single department of history must sometimes\nhave, in distinguishing the ideas which have sprung from their own\nreflections, from those which have been derived from books.\n\nThere is one writer, however, whom I must especially mention, for his name\noccurs continually in the following pages, and his memory has been more\nfrequently, and in these latter months more sadly, present to my mind than\nany other. Brilliant and numerous as are the works of the late Dean\nMilman, it was those only who had the great privilege of his friendship,\nwho could fully realise the amazing extent and variety of his knowledge;\nthe calm, luminous, and delicate judgment which he carried into so many\nspheres; the inimitable grace and tact of his conversation, coruscating\nwith the happiest anecdotes, and the brightest and yet the gentlest\nhumour; and, what was perhaps more remarkable than any single faculty, the\nadmirable harmony and symmetry of his mind and character, so free from all\nthe disproportion, and eccentricity, and exaggeration that sometimes make\neven genius assume the form of a splendid disease. They can never forget\nthose yet higher attributes, which rendered him so unspeakably reverend to\nall who knew him well\u2014his fervent love of truth, his wide tolerance, his\nlarge, generous, and masculine judgments of men and things; his almost\ninstinctive perception of the good that is latent in each opposing party,\nhis disdain for the noisy triumphs and the fleeting popularity of mere\nsectarian strife, the fond and touching affection with which he dwelt upon\nthe images of the past, combining, even in extreme old age, with the\nkeenest and most hopeful insight into the progressive movements of his\ntime, and with a rare power of winning the confidence and reading the\nthoughts of the youngest about him. That such a writer should have devoted\nhimself to the department of history, which more than any other has been\ndistorted by ignorance, puerility, and dishonesty, I conceive to be one of\nthe happiest facts in English literature, and (though sometimes diverging\nfrom his views) in many parts of the following work I have largely availed\nmyself of his researches.\n\nI cannot conceal from myself that this book is likely to encounter much,\nand probably angry, contradiction from different quarters and on different\ngrounds. It is strongly opposed to a school of moral philosophy which is\nat present extremely influential in England; and, in addition to the many\nfaults that may be found in its execution, its very plan must make it\ndispleasing to many. Its subject necessarily includes questions on which\nit is exceedingly difficult for an English writer to touch, and the\nportion of history with which it is concerned has been obscured by no\ncommon measure of misrepresentation and passion. I have endeavoured to\ncarry into it a judicial impartiality, and I trust that the attempt,\nhowever imperfect, may not be wholly useless to my readers.\n\nLONDON: _March 1869_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF MORALS.\n\n\nA brief enquiry into the nature and foundations of morals appears an\nobvious, and, indeed, almost an indispensable preliminary, to any\nexamination of the moral progress of Europe. Unfortunately, however, such\nan enquiry is beset with serious difficulties, arising in part from the\nextreme multiplicity of detail which systems of moral philosophy present,\nand in part from a fundamental antagonism of principles, dividing them\ninto two opposing groups. The great controversy, springing from the rival\nclaims of intuition and utility to be regarded as the supreme regulator of\nmoral distinctions, may be dimly traced in the division between Plato and\nAristotle; it appeared more clearly in the division between the Stoics and\nthe Epicureans; but it has only acquired its full distinctness of\ndefinition, and the importance of the questions depending on it has only\nbeen fully appreciated, in modern times, under the influence of such\nwriters as Cudworth, Clarke, and Butler upon the one side, and Hobbes,\nHelv\u00e9tius, and Bentham on the other.\n\nIndependently of the broad intellectual difficulties which must be\nencountered in treating this question, there is a difficulty of a personal\nkind, which it may be advisable at once to meet. There is a disposition in\nsome moralists to resent, as an imputation against their own characters,\nany charge of immoral consequences that may be brought against the\nprinciples they advocate. Now it is a peculiarity of this controversy that\nevery moralist is compelled, by the very nature of the case, to bring such\ncharges against the opinions of his opponents. The business of a moral\nphilosophy is to account for and to justify our moral sentiments, or in\nother words, to show how we come to have our notions of duty, and to\nsupply us with a reason for acting upon them. If it does this adequately,\nit is impregnable, and therefore a moralist who repudiates one system is\ncalled upon to show that, according to its principles, the notion of duty,\nor the motives for performing it, could never have been generated. The\nUtilitarian accuses his opponent of basing the entire system of morals on\na faculty that has no existence, of adopting a principle that would make\nmoral duty vary with the latitude and the epoch, of resolving all ethics\ninto an idle sentiment. The intuitive moralist, for reasons I shall\nhereafter explain, believes that the Utilitarian theory is profoundly\nimmoral. But to suppose that either of these charges extends to the\ncharacter of the moralist is altogether to misconceive the position which\nmoral theories actually hold in life. Our moral sentiments do not flow\nfrom, but long precede our ethical systems; and it is usually only after\nour characters have been fully formed that we begin to reason about them.\nIt is both possible and very common for the reasoning to be very\ndefective, without any corresponding imperfection in the disposition of\nthe man.\n\nThe two rival theories of morals are known by many names, and are\nsubdivided into many groups. One of them is generally described as the\nstoical, the intuitive, the independent or the sentimental; the other as\nthe epicurean, the inductive, the utilitarian, or the selfish. The\nmoralists of the former school, to state their opinions in the broadest\nform, believe that we have a natural power of perceiving that some\nqualities, such as benevolence, chastity, or veracity, are better than\nothers, and that we ought to cultivate them, and to repress their\nopposites. In other words, they contend, that by the constitution of our\nnature, the notion of right carries with it a feeling of obligation; that\nto say a course of conduct is our duty, is in itself, and apart from all\nconsequences, an intelligible and sufficient reason for practising it; and\nthat we derive the first principles of our duties from intuition. The\nmoralist of the opposite school denies that we have any such natural\nperception. He maintains that we have by nature absolutely no knowledge of\nmerit and demerit, of the comparative excellence of our feelings and\nactions, and that we derive these notions solely from an observation of\nthe course of life which is conducive to human happiness. That which makes\nactions good is, that they increase the happiness or diminish the pains of\nmankind. That which constitutes their demerit is their opposite tendency.\nTo procure \u201cthe greatest happiness for the greatest number,\u201d is therefore\nthe highest aim of the moralist, the supreme type and expression of\nvirtue.\n\nIt is manifest, however, that this last school, if it proceeded no further\nthan I have stated, would have failed to accomplish the task which every\nmoralist must undertake. It is easy to understand that experience may show\nthat certain actions are conducive to the happiness of mankind, and that\nthese actions may in consequence be regarded as supremely excellent. The\nquestion still remains, why we are bound to perform them. If men, who\nbelieve that virtuous actions are those which experience shows to be\nuseful to society, believe also that they are under a natural obligation\nto seek the happiness of others, rather than their own, when the two\ninterests conflict, they have certainly no claim to the title of inductive\nmoralists. They recognise a moral faculty, or natural sense of moral\nobligation or duty as truly as Butler or as Cudworth. And, indeed, a\nposition very similar to this has been adopted by several intuitive\nmoralists. Thus Hutcheson, who is the very founder in modern times of the\ndoctrine of \u201ca moral sense,\u201d and who has defended the disinterested\ncharacter of virtue more powerfully than perhaps any other moralist,\nresolved all virtue into benevolence, or the pursuit of the happiness of\nothers; but he maintained that the excellence and obligation of\nbenevolence are revealed to us by a \u201cmoral sense.\u201d Hume, in like manner,\npronounced utility to be the criterion and essential element of all\nvirtue, and is so far undoubtedly a Utilitarian; but he asserted also that\nour pursuit of virtue is unselfish, and that it springs from a natural\nfeeling of approbation or disapprobation distinct from reason, and\nproduced by a peculiar sense, or taste, which rises up within us at the\ncontemplation of virtue or of vice.(1) A similar doctrine has more\nrecently been advocated by Mackintosh. It is supposed by many that it is a\ncomplete description of the Utilitarian system of morals, that it judges\nall actions and dispositions by their consequences, pronouncing them moral\nin proportion to their tendency to promote, immoral in proportion to their\ntendency to diminish, the happiness of man. But such a summary is clearly\ninadequate, for it deals only with one of the two questions which every\nmoralist must answer. A theory of morals must explain not only what\nconstitutes a duty, but also how we obtain the notion of there being such\na thing as duty. It must tell us not merely what is the course of conduct\nwe _ought_ to pursue, but also what is the meaning of this word \u201cought,\u201d\nand from what source we derive the idea it expresses.\n\nThose who have undertaken to prove that all our morality is a product of\nexperience, have not shrunk from this task, and have boldly entered upon\nthe one path that was open to them. The notion of there being any such\nfeeling as an original sense of obligation distinct from the anticipation\nof pleasure or pain, they treat as a mere illusion of the imagination. All\nthat is meant by saying we ought to do an action is, that if we do not do\nit, we shall suffer. A desire to obtain happiness and to avoid pain is the\nonly possible motive to action. The reason, and the only reason, why we\nshould perform virtuous actions, or in other words, seek the good of\nothers, is that on the whole such a course will bring us the greatest\namount of happiness.\n\nWe have here then a general statement of the doctrine which bases morals\nupon experience. If we ask what constitutes virtuous, and what vicious\nactions, we are told that the first are those which increase the happiness\nor diminish the pains of mankind; and the second are those which have the\nopposite effect. If we ask what is the motive to virtue, we are told that\nit is an enlightened self-interest. The words happiness, utility, and\ninterest include, however, many different kinds of enjoyment, and have\ngiven rise to many different modifications of the theory.\n\nPerhaps the lowest and most repulsive form of this theory is that which\nwas propounded by Mandeville, in his \u201cEnquiry into the Origin of Moral\nVirtue.\u201d(2) According to this writer, virtue sprang in the first instance\nfrom the cunning of rulers. These, in order to govern men, found it\nnecessary to persuade them that it was a noble thing to restrain, instead\nof indulging their passions, and to devote themselves entirely to the good\nof the community. The manner in which they attained this end was by acting\nupon the feeling of vanity. They persuaded men that human nature was\nsomething nobler than the nature of animals, and that devotion to the\ncommunity rendered a man pre-eminently great. By statues, and titles, and\nhonours; by continually extolling such men as Regulus or Decius; by\nrepresenting those who were addicted to useless enjoyments as a low and\ndespicable class, they at last so inflamed the vanity of men as to kindle\nan intense emulation, and inspire the most heroic actions. And soon new\ninfluences came into play. Men who began by restraining their passions, in\norder to acquire the pleasure of the esteem of others, found that this\nrestraint saved them from many painful consequences that would have\nnaturally ensued from over-indulgence, and this discovery became a new\nmotive to virtue. Each member of the community moreover found that he\nhimself derived benefit from the self-sacrifice of others, and also that\nwhen he was seeking his own interest, without regard to others, no persons\nstood so much in his way as those who were similarly employed, and he had\nthus a double reason for diffusing abroad the notion of the excellence of\nself-sacrifice. The result of all this was that men agreed to stigmatise\nunder the term \u201cvice\u201d whatever was injurious, and to eulogise as \u201cvirtue\u201d\nwhatever was beneficial to society.\n\nThe opinions of Mandeville attracted, when they were published, an\nattention greatly beyond their intrinsic merit, but they are now sinking\nrapidly into deserved oblivion. The author, in a poem called the \u201cFable of\nthe Bees,\u201d and in comments attached to it, himself advocated a thesis\naltogether inconsistent with that I have described, maintaining that\n\u201cprivate vices were public benefits,\u201d and endeavouring, in a long series\nof very feeble and sometimes very grotesque arguments, to prove that vice\nwas in the highest degree beneficial to mankind. A far greater writer had\nhowever already framed a scheme of morals which, if somewhat less\nrepulsive, was in no degree less selfish than that of Mandeville; and the\nopinions of Hobbes concerning the essence and origin of virtue, have, with\nno very great variations, been adopted by what may be termed the narrower\nschool of Utilitarians.\n\nAccording to these writers we are governed exclusively by our own\ninterest.(3) Pleasure, they assure us, is the only good,(4) and moral good\nand moral evil mean nothing more than our voluntary conformity to a law\nthat will bring it to us.(5) To love good simply as good, is\nimpossible.(6) When we speak of the goodness of God, we mean only His\ngoodness to us.(7) Reverence is nothing more than our conviction, that one\nwho has power to do us both good and harm, will only do us good.(8) The\npleasures of piety arise from the belief that we are about to receive\npleasure, and the pains of piety from the belief that we are about to\nsuffer pain from the Deity.(9) Our very affections, according to some of\nthese writers, are all forms of self-love. Thus charity springs partly\nfrom our desire to obtain the esteem of others, partly from the\nexpectation that the favours we have bestowed will be reciprocated, and\npartly, too, from the gratification of the sense of power, by the proof\nthat we can satisfy not only our own desires but also the desires of\nothers.(10) Pity is an emotion arising from a vivid realisation of sorrow\nthat may befall ourselves, suggested by the sight of the sorrows of\nothers. We pity especially those who have not deserved calamity, because\nwe consider ourselves to belong to that category; and the spectacle of\nsuffering against which no forethought could provide, reminds us most\nforcibly of what may happen to ourselves.(11) Friendship is the sense of\nthe need of the person befriended.(12)\n\nFrom such a conception of human nature it is easy to divine what system of\nmorals must flow. No character, feeling, or action is naturally better\nthan others, and as long as men are in a savage condition, morality has no\nexistence. Fortunately, however, we are all dependent for many of our\npleasures upon others. Co-operation and organisation are essential to our\nhappiness, and these are impossible without some restraint being placed\nupon our appetites. Laws are enacted to secure this restraint, and being\nsustained by rewards and punishments, they make it the interest of the\nindividual to regard that of the community. According to Hobbes, the\ndisposition of man is so anarchical, and the importance of restraining it\nso transcendent, that absolute government alone is good; the commands of\nthe sovereign are supreme, and must therefore constitute the law of\nmorals. The other moralists of the school, though repudiating this notion,\nhave given a very great and distinguished place to legislation in their\nschemes of ethics; for all our conduct being determined by our interests,\nvirtue being simply the conformity of our own interests with those of the\ncommunity, and a judicious legislation being the chief way of securing\nthis conformity, the functions of the moralist and of the legislator are\nalmost identical.(13) But in addition to the rewards and punishments of\nthe penal code, those arising from public opinion\u2014fame or infamy, the\nfriendship or hostility of those about us\u2014are enlisted on the side of\nvirtue. The educating influence of laws, and the growing perception of the\nidentity of interests of the different members of the community, create a\npublic opinion favourable to all the qualities which are \u201cthe means of\npeaceable, sociable, and comfortable living.\u201d(14) Such are justice,\ngratitude, modesty, equity, and mercy; and such, too, are purity and\nchastity, which, considered in themselves alone, are in no degree more\nexcellent than the coarsest and most indiscriminate lust, but which can be\nshown to be conducive to the happiness of society, and become in\nconsequence virtues.(15) This education of public opinion grows\ncontinually stronger with civilisation, and gradually moulds the\ncharacters of men, making them more and more disinterested, heroic, and\nunselfish. A disinterested, unselfish, and heroic man, it is explained, is\none who is strictly engrossed in the pursuit of his own pleasure, but who\npursues it in such a manner as to include in its gratification the\nhappiness of others.(16)\n\nIt is a very old assertion, that a man who prudently sought his own\ninterest would live a life of perfect virtue. This opinion is adopted by\nmost of those Utilitarians who are least inclined to lay great stress upon\nreligious motives; and as they maintain that every man necessarily pursues\nexclusively his own happiness, we return by another path to the old\nPlatonic doctrine, that all vice is ignorance. Virtue is a judicious, and\nvice an injudicious, pursuit of pleasure. Virtue is a branch of prudence,\nvice is nothing more than imprudence or miscalculation.(17) He who seeks\nto improve the moral condition of mankind has two, and only two, ways of\naccomplishing his end. The first is, to make it more and more the interest\nof each to conform to that of the others; the second is, to dispel the\nignorance which prevents men from seeing their true interest.(18) If\nchastity or truth, or any other of what we regard as virtues, could be\nshown to produce on the whole more pain than they destroy, or to deprive\nmen of more pleasure than they afford, they would not be virtues, but\nvices.(19) If it could be shown that it is not for our own interest to\npractise any of what are admitted to be virtues, all obligation to\npractise them would immediately cease.(20) The whole scheme of ethics may\nbe evolved from the four canons of Epicurus. The pleasure which produces\nno pain is to be embraced. The pain which produces no pleasure is to be\navoided. The pleasure is to be avoided which prevents a greater pleasure,\nor produces a greater pain. The pain is to be endured which averts a\ngreater pain, or secures a greater pleasure.(21)\n\nSo far I have barely alluded to any but terrestrial motives. These, in the\nopinion of many of the most illustrious of the school, are sufficient, but\nothers\u2014as we shall see, I think, with great reason\u2014are of a different\nopinion. Their obvious resource is in the rewards and punishments of\nanother world, and these they accordingly present as the motive to virtue.\nOf all the modifications of the selfish theory, this alone can be said to\nfurnish interested motives for virtue which are invariably and\nincontestably adequate. If men introduce the notion of infinite\npunishments and infinite rewards distributed by an omniscient Judge, they\ncan undoubtedly supply stronger reasons for practising virtue than can\never be found for practising vice. While admitting therefore in emphatic\nterms, that any sacrifice of our pleasure, without the prospect of an\nequivalent reward, is a simple act of madness, and unworthy of a rational\nbeing,(22) these writers maintain that we may reasonably sacrifice the\nenjoyments of this life, because we shall be rewarded by far greater\nenjoyment in the next. To gain heaven and avoid hell should be the spring\nof all our actions,(23) and virtue is simply prudence extending its\ncalculations beyond the grave.(24) This calculation is what we mean by the\n\u201creligious motive.\u201d(25) The belief that the nobility and excellence of\nvirtue could incite us, was a mere delusion of the Pagans.(26)\n\nConsidered simply in the light of a prudential scheme, there are only two\npossible objections that could be brought against this theory. It might be\nsaid that the amount of virtue required for entering heaven was not\ndefined, and that therefore it would be possible to enjoy some vices on\nearth with impunity. To this, however, it is answered that the very\nindefiniteness of the requirement renders zealous piety a matter of\nprudence, and also that there is probably a graduated scale of rewards and\npunishments adapted to every variety of merit and demerit.(27) It might be\nsaid too that present pleasures are at least certain, and that those of\nanother world are not equally so. It is answered that the rewards and\npunishments offered in another world are so transcendently great, that\naccording to the rules of ordinary prudence, if there were only a\nprobability, or even a bare possibility, of their being real, a wise man\nshould regulate his course with a view to them.(28)\n\nAmong these writers, however, some have diverged to a certain degree from\nthe broad stream of utilitarianism, declaring that the foundation of the\nmoral law is not utility, but the will or arbitrary decree of God. This\nopinion, which was propounded by the schoolman Ockham, and by several\nother writers of his age,(29) has in modern times found many\nadherents,(30) and been defended through a variety of motives. Some have\nupheld it on the philosophical ground that a law can be nothing but the\nsentence of a lawgiver; others from a desire to place morals in permanent\nsubordination to theology; others in order to answer objections to\nChristianity derived from apparently immoral acts said to have been\nsanctioned by the Divinity; and others because having adopted strong\nCalvinistic sentiments, they were at once profoundly opposed to\nutilitarian morals, and at the same time too firmly convinced of the total\ndepravity of human nature to admit the existence of any trustworthy moral\nsense.(31)\n\nIn the majority of cases, however, these writers have proved substantially\nutilitarians. When asked how we can know the will of God, they answer that\nin as far as it is not included in express revelation, it must be\ndiscovered by the rule of utility; for nature proves that the Deity is\nsupremely benevolent, and desires the welfare of men, and therefore any\nconduct that leads to that end is in conformity with His will.(32) To the\nquestion why the Divine will should be obeyed, there are but two answers.\nThe first, which is that of the intuitive moralist, is that we are under a\nnatural obligation of gratitude to our Creator. The second, which is that\nof the selfish moralist, is that the Creator has infinite rewards and\npunishments at His disposal. The latter answer appears usually to have\nbeen adopted, and the most eminent member has summed up with great\nsuccinctness the opinion of his school. \u201cThe good of mankind,\u201d he says,\n\u201cis the subject, the will of God the rule, and everlasting happiness the\nmotive and end of all virtue.\u201d(33)\n\nWe have seen that the distinctive characteristic of the inductive school\nof moralists is an absolute denial of the existence of any natural or\ninnate moral sense or faculty enabling us to distinguish between the\nhigher and lower parts of our nature, revealing to us either the existence\nof a law of duty or the conduct that it prescribes. We have seen that the\nonly postulate of these writers is that happiness being universally\ndesired is a desirable thing, that the only merit they recognise in\nactions or feelings is their tendency to promote human happiness, and that\nthe only motive to a virtuous act they conceive possible is the real or\nsupposed happiness of the agent. The sanctions of morality thus constitute\nits obligation, and apart from them the word \u201cought\u201d is absolutely\nunmeaning. Those sanctions, as we have considered them, are of different\nkinds and degrees of magnitude. Paley, though elsewhere acknowledging the\nothers, regarded the religious one as so immeasurably the first, that he\nrepresented it as the one motive of virtue.(34) Locke divided them into\nDivine rewards and punishments, legal penalties and social penalties;(35)\nBentham into physical, political, moral or popular, and religious\u2014the\nfirst being the bodily evils that result from vice, the second the\nenactments of legislators, the third the pleasures and pains arising from\nsocial intercourse, the fourth the rewards and punishments of another\nworld.(36)\n\nDuring the greater part of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the\ncontroversy in England between those who derived the moral code from\nexperience, and those who derived it from intuitions of the reason, or\nfrom a special faculty, or from a moral sense, or from the power of\nsympathy, turned mainly upon the existence of an unselfish element in our\nnature. The reality of this existence having been maintained by\nShaftesbury, was established with an unprecedented, and I believe an\nirresistible force, by Hutcheson, and the same question occupies a\nconsiderable place in the writings of Butler, Hume, and Adam Smith. The\nselfishness of the school of Hobbes, though in some degree mitigated, may\nbe traced in every page of the writings of Bentham; but some of his\ndisciples have in this respect deviated very widely from their master, and\nin their hands the whole tone and complexion of utilitarianism have been\nchanged.(37) The two means by which this transformation has been effected\nare the recognition of our unselfish or sympathetic feelings, and the\ndoctrine of the association of ideas.\n\nThat human nature is so constituted that we naturally take a pleasure in\nthe sight of the joy of others is one of those facts which to an ordinary\nobserver might well appear among the most patent that can be conceived. We\nhave seen, however, that it was emphatically denied by Hobbes, and during\nthe greater part of the last century it was fashionable among writers of\nthe school of Helv\u00e9tius to endeavour to prove that all domestic or social\naffections were dictated simply by a need of the person who was beloved.\nThe reality of the pleasures and pains of sympathy was admitted by\nBentham;(38) but in accordance with the whole spirit of his philosophy, he\nthrew them as much as possible into the background, and, as I have already\nnoticed, gave them no place in his summary of the sanctions of virtue. The\ntendency, however, of the later members of the school has been to\nrecognise them fully,(39) though they differ as to the source from which\nthey spring. According to one section our benevolent affections are\nderived from our selfish feelings by an association of ideas in a manner\nwhich I shall presently describe. According to the other they are an\noriginal part of the constitution of our nature. However they be\ngenerated, their existence is admitted, their cultivation is a main object\nof morals, and the pleasure derived from their exercise a leading motive\nto virtue. The differences between the intuitive moralists and their\nrivals on this point are of two kinds. Both acknowledge the existence in\nhuman nature of both benevolent and malevolent feelings, and that we have\na natural power of distinguishing one from the other; but the first\nmaintain and the second deny that we have a natural power of perceiving\nthat one is better than the other. Both admit that we enjoy a pleasure in\nacts of benevolence to others, but most writers of the first school\nmaintain that that pleasure follows unsought for, while writers of the\nother school contend that the desire of obtaining it is the motive of the\naction.\n\nBut by far the most ingenious and at the same time most influential system\nof utilitarian morals is that which owes its distinctive feature to the\ndoctrine of association of Hartley. This doctrine, which among the modern\nachievements of ethics occupies on the utilitarian side a position\ncorresponding in importance to the doctrine of innate moral faculties as\ndistinguished from innate moral ideas on the intuitive side, was not\nabsolutely unknown to the ancients, though they never perceived either the\nextent to which it may be carried or the important consequences that might\nbe deduced from it. Some traces of it may be found in Aristotle,(40) and\nsome of the Epicureans applied it to friendship, maintaining that,\nalthough we first of all love our friend on account of the pleasure he can\ngive us, we come soon to love him for his own sake, and apart from all\nconsiderations of utility.(41) Among moderns Locke has the merit of having\ndevised the phrase, \u201cassociation of ideas;\u201d(42) but he applied it only to\nsome cases of apparently eccentric sympathies or antipathies. Hutcheson,\nhowever, closely anticipated both the doctrine of Hartley and the\nfavourite illustration of the school; observing that we desire some things\nas themselves pleasurable and others only as means to obtain pleasurable\nthings, and that these latter, which he terms \u201csecondary desires,\u201d may\nbecome as powerful as the former. \u201cThus, as soon as we come to apprehend\nthe use of wealth or power to gratify any of our original desires we must\nalso desire them. Hence arises the universality of these desires of wealth\nand power, since they are the means of gratifying all our desires.\u201d(43)\nThe same principles were carried much farther by a clergyman named Gay in\na short dissertation which is now almost forgotten, but to which Hartley\nascribed the first suggestion of his theory,(44) and in which indeed the\nmost valuable part of it is clearly laid down. Differing altogether from\nHutcheson as to the existence of any innate moral sense or principle of\nbenevolence in man, Gay admitted that the arguments of Hutcheson to prove\nthat the adult man possesses a moral sense were irresistible, and he\nattempted to reconcile this fact with the teaching of Locke by the\ndoctrine of \u201csecondary desires.\u201d He remarks that in our reasonings we do\nnot always fall back upon first principles or axioms, but sometimes start\nfrom propositions which though not self-evident we know to be capable of\nproof. In the same way in justifying our actions we do not always appeal\nto the tendency to produce happiness which is their one ultimate\njustification, but content ourselves by showing that they produce some of\nthe known \u201cmeans to happiness.\u201d These \u201cmeans to happiness\u201d being\ncontinually appealed to as justifying motives come insensibly to be\nregarded as ends, possessing an intrinsic value irrespective of their\ntendency; and in this manner it is that we love and admire virtue even\nwhen unconnected with our interests.(45)\n\nThe great work of Hartley expanding and elaborating these views was\npublished in 1747. It was encumbered by much physiological speculation\ninto which it is needless for us now to enter, about the manner in which\nemotions act upon the nerves, and although accepted enthusiastically by\nPriestley and Belsham, and in some degree by Tucker, I do not think that\nits purely ethical speculations had much influence until they were adopted\nby some leading utilitarians in the present century.(46) Whatever may be\nthought of the truth, it is impossible to withhold some admiration from\nthe intellectual grandeur of a system which starting from a conception of\nhuman nature as low and as base as that of Mandeville or Hobbes professes\nwithout the introduction of a single new or nobler element, by a strange\nprocess of philosophic alchemy, to evolve out of this original selfishness\nthe most heroic and most sensitive virtue. The manner in which this\nachievement is effected is commonly illustrated by the passion of avarice.\nMoney in itself possesses absolutely nothing that is admirable or\npleasurable, but being the means of procuring us many of the objects of\nour desire, it becomes associated in our minds with the idea of pleasure;\nit is therefore itself loved; and it is possible for the love of money so\ncompletely to eclipse or supersede the love of all those things which\nmoney procures, that the miser will forego them all, rather than part with\na fraction of his gold.(47)\n\nThe same phenomenon may be traced, it is said, in a multitude of other\nforms.(48) Thus we seek power, because it gives us the means of gratifying\nmany desires. It becomes associated with those desires, and is, at last,\nitself passionately loved. Praise indicates the affection of the eulogist,\nand marks us out for the affection of others. Valued at first as a means,\nit is soon desired as an end, and to such a pitch can our enthusiasm rise,\nthat we may sacrifice all earthly things for posthumous praise which can\nnever reach our ear. And the force of association may extend even farther.\nWe love praise, because it procures us certain advantages. We then love it\nmore than these advantages. We proceed by the same process to transfer our\naffections to those things which naturally or generally procure praise. We\nat last love what is praiseworthy more than praise, and will endure\nperpetual obloquy rather than abandon it.(49) To this process, it is said,\nall our moral sentiments must be ascribed. Man has no natural benevolent\nfeelings. He is at first governed solely by his interest, but the infant\nlearns to associate its pleasures with the idea of its mother, the boy\nwith the idea of his family, the man with those of his class, his church,\nhis country, and at last of all mankind, and in each case an independent\naffection is at length formed.(50) The sight of suffering in others\nawakens in the child a painful recollection of his own sufferings, which\nparents, by appealing to the infant imagination, still further strengthen,\nand besides, \u201cwhen several children are educated together, the pains, the\ndenials of pleasure, and the sorrows which affect one gradually extend in\nsome degree to all;\u201d and thus the suffering of others becomes associated\nwith the idea of our own, and the feeling of compassion is engendered.(51)\nBenevolence and justice are associated in our minds with the esteem of our\nfellow-men, with reciprocity of favours, and with the hope of future\nreward. They are loved at first for these, and finally for themselves,\nwhile opposite trains of association produce opposite feelings towards\nmalevolence and injustice.(52) And thus virtue, considered as a whole,\nbecomes the supreme object of our affections. Of all our pleasures, more\nare derived from those acts which are called virtuous, than from any other\nsource. The virtuous acts of others procure us countless advantages. Our\nown virtue obtains for us the esteem of men and return of favours. All the\nepithets of praise are appropriated to virtue, and all the epithets of\nblame to vice. Religion teaches us to connect hopes of infinite joy with\nthe one, and fears of infinite suffering with the other. Virtue becomes\ntherefore peculiarly associated with the idea of pleasurable things. It is\nsoon loved, independently of and more than these; we feel a glow of\npleasure in practising it, and an intense pain in violating it.\nConscience, which is thus generated, becomes the ruling principle of our\nlives,(53) and having learnt to sacrifice all earthly things rather than\ndisobey it, we rise, by an association of ideas, into the loftiest region\nof heroism.(54)\n\nThe influence of this ingenious, though I think in some respect fanciful,\ntheory depends less upon the number than upon the ability of its\nadherents. Though little known, I believe, beyond England, it has in\nEngland exercised a great fascination over exceedingly dissimilar\nminds,(55) and it does undoubtedly evade some of the objections to the\nother forms of the inductive theory. Thus, when intuitive moralists\ncontend that our moral judgments, being instantaneous and effected under\nthe manifest impulse of an emotion of sympathy or repulsion, are as far as\npossible removed from that cold calculation of interests to which the\nutilitarian reduces them, it is answered, that the association of ideas is\nsufficient to engender a feeling which is the proximate cause of our\ndecision.(56) Alone, of all the moralists of this school, the disciple of\nHartley recognises conscience as a real and important element of our\nnature,(57) and maintains that it is possible to love virtue for itself as\na form of happiness without any thought of ulterior consequences.(58) The\nimmense value this theory ascribes to education, gives it an unusual\npractical importance. When we are balancing between a crime and a virtue,\nour wills, it is said, are necessarily determined by the greater pleasure.\nIf we find more pleasure in the vice than in the virtue, we inevitably\ngravitate to evil. If we find more pleasure in the virtue than in the\nvice, we are as irresistibly attracted towards good. But the strength of\nsuch motives may be immeasurably enhanced by an early association of\nideas. If we have been accustomed from childhood to associate our ideas of\npraise and pleasure with virtue, we shall readily yield to virtuous\nmotives; if with vice, to vicious ones. This readiness to yield to one or\nother set of motives, constitutes disposition, which is thus, according to\nthese moralists, altogether an artificial thing, the product of education,\nand effected by association of ideas.(59)\n\nIt will be observed, however, that this theory, refined and imposing as it\nmay appear, is still essentially a selfish one. Even when sacrificing all\nearthly objects through love of virtue, the good man is simply seeking his\ngreatest enjoyment, indulging a kind of mental luxury which gives him more\npleasure than what he foregoes, just as the miser finds more pleasure in\naccumulation than in any form of expenditure.(60) There has been, indeed,\none attempt to emancipate the theory from this condition, but it appears\nto me altogether futile. It has been said that men in the first instance\nindulge in baneful excesses, on account of the pleasure they afford, but\nthe habit being contracted, continue to practise them after they have\nceased to afford pleasure, and that a similar law may operate in the case\nof the habit of virtue.(61) But the reason why men who have contracted a\nhabit continue to practise it after it has ceased to give them positive\nenjoyment, is because to desist, creates a restlessness and uneasiness\nwhich amounts to acute mental pain. To avoid that pain is the motive of\nthe action.\n\nThe reader who has perused the passages I have accumulated in the notes,\nwill be able to judge with what degree of justice utilitarian writers\ndenounce with indignation the imputation of selfishness, as a calumny\nagainst their system. It is not, I think, a strained or unnatural use of\nlanguage to describe as selfish or interested, all actions which a man\nperforms, in order himself to avoid suffering or acquire the greatest\npossible enjoyment. If this be so, the term selfish is strictly applicable\nto all the branches of this system.(62) At the same time it must be\nacknowledged that there is a broad difference between the refined hedonism\nof the utilitarians we have last noticed, and the writings of Hobbes, of\nMandeville, or of Paley. It must be acknowledged, also, that not a few\nintuitive or stoical moralists have spoken of the pleasure to be derived\nfrom virtue in language little if at all different from these writers.(63)\nThe main object of the earlier members of the inductive school, was to\ndepress human nature to their standard, by resolving all the noblest\nactions into coarse and selfish elements. The main object of some of the\nmore influential of the later members of this school, has been to\nsublimate their conceptions of happiness and interest in such a manner, as\nto include the highest displays of heroism. As we have seen, they fully\nadmit that conscience is a real thing, and should be the supreme guide of\nour lives, though they contend that it springs originally from\nselfishness, transformed under the influence of the association of ideas.\nThey acknowledge the reality of the sympathetic feelings, though they\nusually trace them to the same source. They cannot, it is true,\nconsistently with their principles, recognise the possibility of conduct\nwhich is in the strictest sense of the word unselfish, but they contend\nthat it is quite possible for a man to find his highest pleasure in\nsacrificing himself for the good of others, that the association of virtue\nand pleasure is only perfect when it leads habitually to spontaneous and\nuncalculating action, and that no man is in a healthy moral condition who\ndoes not find more pain in committing a crime than he could derive\npleasure from any of its consequences. The theory in its principle remains\nunchanged, but in the hands of some of these writers the spirit has wholly\naltered.\n\nHaving thus given a brief, but, I trust, clear and faithful account of the\ndifferent modifications of the inductive theory, I shall proceed to state\nsome of the principal objections that have been and may be brought against\nit. I shall then endeavour to define and defend the opinions of those who\nbelieve that our moral feelings are an essential part of our constitution,\ndeveloped by, but not derived from education, and I shall conclude this\nchapter by an enquiry into the order of their evolution; so that having\nobtained some notion of the natural history of morals, we may be able, in\nthe ensuing chapters, to judge, how far their normal progress has been\naccelerated or retarded by religious or political agencies.\n\n\u201cPsychology,\u201d it has been truly said, \u201cis but developed\nconsciousness.\u201d(64) When moralists assert, that what we call virtue\nderives its reputation solely from its utility, and that the interest or\npleasure of the agent is the one motive to practise it, our first question\nis naturally how far this theory agrees with the feelings and with the\nlanguage of mankind. But if tested by this criterion, there never was a\ndoctrine more emphatically condemned than utilitarianism. In all its\nstages, and in all its assertions, it is in direct opposition to common\nlanguage and to common sentiments. In all nations and in all ages, the\nideas of interest and utility on the one hand and of virtue on the other,\nhave been regarded by the multitude as perfectly distinct, and all\nlanguages recognise the distinction. The terms honour, justice, rectitude\nor virtue, and their equivalents in every language, present to the mind\nideas essentially and broadly differing from the terms prudence, sagacity,\nor interest. The two lines of conduct may coincide, but they are never\nconfused, and we have not the slightest difficulty in imagining them\nantagonistic. When we say a man is governed by a high sense of honour, or\nby strong moral feeling, we do not mean that he is prudently pursuing\neither his own interests or the interests of society. The universal\nsentiment of mankind represents self-sacrifice as an essential element of\na meritorious act, and means by self-sacrifice the deliberate adoption of\nthe least pleasurable course without the prospect of any pleasure in\nreturn. A selfish act may be innocent, but cannot be virtuous, and to\nascribe all good deeds to selfish motives, is not the distortion but the\nnegation of virtue. No Epicurean could avow before a popular audience that\nthe one end of his life was the pursuit of his own happiness without an\noutburst of indignation and contempt.(65) No man could consciously make\nthis\u2014which according to the selfish theory is the only rational and indeed\npossible motive of action\u2014the deliberate object of all his undertakings,\nwithout his character becoming despicable and degraded. Whether we look\nwithin ourselves or examine the conduct either of our enemies or of our\nfriends, or adjudicate upon the characters in history or in fiction, our\nfeelings on these matters are the same. In exact proportion as we believe\na desire for personal enjoyment to be the motive of a good act is the\nmerit of the agent diminished. If we believe the motive to be wholly\nselfish the merit is altogether destroyed. If we believe it to be wholly\ndisinterested the merit is altogether unalloyed. Hence, the admiration\nbestowed upon Prometheus, or suffering virtue constant beneath the blows\nof Almighty malice, or on the atheist who with no prospect of future\nreward suffered a fearful death, rather than abjure an opinion which could\nbe of no benefit to society, because he believed it to be the truth.\nSelfish moralists deny the possibility of that which all ages, all\nnations, all popular judgments pronounce to have been the characteristic\nof every noble act that has ever been performed. Now, when a philosophy\nwhich seeks by the light of consciousness to decipher the laws of our\nmoral being proves so diametrically opposed to the conclusions arrived at\nby the great mass of mankind, who merely follow their consciousness\nwithout endeavouring to frame systems of philosophy, that it makes most of\nthe distinctions of common ethical language absolutely unmeaning, this is,\nto say the least, a strong presumption against its truth. If Moli\u00e8re\u2019s\nhero had been speaking prose all his life without knowing it, this was\nsimply because he did not understand what prose was. In the present case\nwe are asked to believe that men have been under a total delusion about\nthe leading principles of their lives which they had distinguished by a\nwhole vocabulary of terms.\n\nIt is said that the case becomes different when the pleasure sought is not\na gross or material enjoyment, but the satisfaction of performed virtue. I\nsuspect that if men could persuade themselves that the one motive of a\nvirtuous man was the certainty that the act he accomplished would be\nfollowed by a glow of satisfaction so intense as more than to compensate\nfor any sacrifice he might have made, the difference would not be as great\nas is supposed. In fact, however\u2014and the consciousness of this lies, I\nconceive, at the root of the opinions of men upon the subject\u2014the pleasure\nof virtue is one which can only be obtained on the express condition of\nits not being the object sought. Phenomena of this kind are familiar to us\nall. Thus, for example, it has often been observed that prayer, by a law\nof our nature and apart from all supernatural intervention, exercises a\nreflex influence of a very beneficial character upon the minds of the\nworshippers. The man who offers up his petitions with passionate\nearnestness, with unfaltering faith, and with a vivid realisation of the\npresence of an Unseen Being has risen to a condition of mind which is\nitself eminently favourable both to his own happiness and to the expansion\nof his moral qualities. But he who expects nothing more will never attain\nthis. To him who neither believes nor hopes that his petitions will\nreceive a response such a mental state is impossible. No Protestant before\nan image of the Virgin, no Christian before a pagan idol, could possibly\nattain it. If prayers were offered up solely with a view to this benefit,\nthey would be absolutely sterile and would speedily cease. Thus again,\ncertain political economists have contended that to give money in charity\nis worse than useless, that it is positively noxious to society, but they\nhave added that the gratification of our benevolent affections is pleasing\nto ourselves, and that the pleasure we derive from this source may be so\nmuch greater than the evil resulting from our gift, that we may justly,\naccording to the \u201cgreatest happiness principle,\u201d purchase this large\namount of gratification to ourselves by a slight injury to our neighbours.\nThe political economy involved in this very characteristic specimen of\nutilitarian ethics I shall hereafter examine. At present it is sufficient\nto observe that no one who consciously practised benevolence solely from\nthis motive could obtain the pleasure in question. We receive enjoyment\nfrom the thought that we have done good. We never could receive that\nenjoyment if we believed and realised that we were doing harm. The same\nthing is pre-eminently true of the satisfaction of conscience. A feeling\nof satisfaction follows the accomplishment of duty for itself, but if the\nduty be performed solely through the expectation of a mental pleasure\nconscience refuses to ratify the bargain.\n\nThere is no fact more conspicuous in human nature than the broad\ndistinction, both in kind and degree, drawn between the moral and the\nother parts of our nature. But this on utilitarian principles is\naltogether unaccountable. If the excellence of virtue consists solely in\nits utility or tendency to promote the happiness of men, we should be\ncompelled to canonise a crowd of acts which are utterly remote from all\nour ordinary notions of morality. The whole tendency of political economy\nand philosophical history which reveal the physiology of societies, is to\nshow that the happiness and welfare of mankind are evolved much more from\nour selfish than from what are termed our virtuous acts. The prosperity of\nnations and the progress of civilisation are mainly due to the exertions\nof men who while pursuing strictly their own interests, were unconsciously\npromoting the interests of the community. The selfish instinct that leads\nmen to accumulate, confers ultimately more advantage upon the world than\nthe generous instinct that leads men to give. A great historian has\ncontended with some force that intellectual development is more important\nto societies than moral development. Yet who ever seriously questioned the\nreality of the distinction that separates these things? The reader will\nprobably exclaim that the key to that distinction is to be found in the\nmotive; but it is one of the paradoxes of the utilitarian school that the\nmotive of the agent has absolutely no influence on the morality of the\nact. According to Bentham, there is but one motive possible, the pursuit\nof our own enjoyment. The most virtuous, the most vicious, and the most\nindifferent of actions, if measured by this test, would be exactly the\nsame, and an investigation of motives should therefore be altogether\nexcluded from our moral judgments.(66) Whatever test we adopt, the\ndifficulty of accounting for the unique and pre-eminent position mankind\nhave assigned to virtue will remain. If we judge by tendencies, a crowd of\nobjects and of acts to which no mortal ever dreamed of ascribing virtue,\ncontribute largely to the happiness of man. If we judge by motives, the\nmoralists we are reviewing have denied all generic difference between\nprudential and virtuous motives. If we judge by intentions, it is certain\nthat however much truth or chastity may contribute to the happiness of\nmankind, it is not with philanthropic intentions that those virtues are\ncultivated.\n\nIt is often said that intuitive moralists in their reasonings are guilty\nof continually abandoning their principles by themselves appealing to the\ntendency of certain acts to promote human happiness as a justification,\nand the charge is usually accompanied by a challenge to show any confessed\nvirtue that has not that tendency. To the first objection it may be\nshortly answered that no intuitive moralist ever dreamed of doubting that\nbenevolence or charity, or in other words, the promotion of the happiness\nof man, is a duty. He maintains that it not only is so, but that we arrive\nat this fact by direct intuition, and not by the discovery that such a\ncourse is conducive to our own interest. But while he cordially recognises\nthis branch of virtue, and while he has therefore a perfect right to\nallege the beneficial effects of a virtue in its defence, he refuses to\nadmit that all virtue can be reduced to this single principle. With the\ngeneral sentiment of mankind he regards charity as a good thing only\nbecause it is of use to the world. With the same general sentiment of\nmankind he believes that chastity and truth have an independent value,\ndistinct from their influence upon happiness. To the question whether\nevery confessed virtue is conducive to human happiness, it is less easy to\nreply, for it is usually extremely difficult to calculate the remote\ntendencies of acts, and in cases where, in the common apprehension of\nmankind, the morality is very clear, the consequences are often very\nobscure. Notwithstanding the claim of great precision which utilitarian\nwriters so boastfully make, the standard by which they profess to measure\nmorals is itself absolutely incapable of definition or accurate\nexplanation. Happiness is one of the most indeterminate and undefinable\nwords in the language, and what are the conditions of \u201cthe greatest\npossible happiness\u201d no one can precisely say. No two nations, perhaps no\ntwo individuals, would find them the same.(67) And even if every virtuous\nact were incontestably useful, it by no means follows that its virtue is\nderived from its utility.\n\nIt may be readily granted, that as a general rule those acts which we call\nvirtuous, are unquestionably productive of happiness, if not to the agent,\nat least to mankind in general, but we have already seen that they have by\nno means that monopoly or pre-eminence of utility which on utilitarian\nprinciples, the unique position assigned to them would appear to imply. It\nmay be added, that if we were to proceed in detail to estimate acts by\ntheir consequences, we should soon be led to very startling conclusions.\nIn the first place, it is obvious that if virtues are only good because\nthey promote, and vices only evil because they impair the happiness of\nmankind, the degrees of excellence or criminality must be strictly\nproportioned to the degrees of utility or the reverse.(68) Every action,\nevery disposition, every class, every condition of society must take its\nplace on the moral scale precisely in accordance with the degree in which\nit promotes or diminishes human happiness. Now it is extremely\nquestionable, whether some of the most monstrous forms of sensuality which\nit is scarcely possible to name, cause as much unhappiness as some\ninfirmities of temper, or procrastination or hastiness of judgment. It is\nscarcely doubtful that a modest, diffident, and retiring nature,\ndistrustful of its own abilities, and shrinking with humility from\nconflict, produces on the whole less benefit to the world than the\nself-assertion of an audacious and arrogant nature, which is impelled to\nevery struggle, and developes every capacity. Gratitude has no doubt done\nmuch to soften and sweeten the intercourse of life, but the corresponding\nfeeling of revenge was for centuries the one bulwark against social\nanarchy, and is even now one of the chief restraints to crime.(69) On the\ngreat theatre of public life, especially in periods of great convulsions\nwhen passions are fiercely roused, it is neither the man of delicate\nscrupulosity and sincere impartiality, nor yet the single-minded religious\nenthusiast, incapable of dissimulation or procrastination, who confers\nmost benefit upon the world. It is much rather the astute statesman\nearnest about his ends but unscrupulous about his means, equally free from\nthe trammels of conscience and from the blindness of zeal, who governs\nbecause he partly yields to the passions and the prejudices of his time.\nBut however much some modern writers may idolize the heroes of success,\nhowever much they may despise and ridicule those far nobler men, whose\nwide tolerance and scrupulous honour rendered them unfit leaders in the\nfray, it has scarcely yet been contended that the delicate\nconscientiousness which in these cases impairs utility constitutes vice.\nIf utility is the sole measure of virtue, it is difficult to understand\nhow we could look with moral disapprobation on any class who prevent\ngreater evils than they cause. But with such a principle we might find\nstrange priestesses at the utilitarian shrine. \u201cAufer meretrices de rebus\nhumanis,\u201d said St. Augustine, \u201cturbaveris omnia libidinibus.\u201d(70)\n\nLet us suppose an enquirer who intended to regulate his life consistently\nby the utilitarian principle; let us suppose him to have overcome the\nfirst great difficulty of his school, arising from the apparent divergence\nof his own interests from his duty, to have convinced himself that that\ndivergence does not exist, and to have accordingly made the pursuit of\nduty his single object, it remains to consider what kind of course he\nwould pursue. He is informed that it is a pure illusion to suppose that\nhuman actions have any other end or rule than happiness, that nothing is\nintrinsically good or intrinsically bad apart from its consequences, that\nno act which is useful can possibly be vicious, and that the utility of an\nact constitutes and measures its value. One of his first observations will\nbe that in very many special cases acts such as murder, theft, or\nfalsehood, which the world calls criminal, and which in the majority of\ninstances would undoubtedly be hurtful, appear eminently productive of\ngood. Why then, he may ask, should they not in these cases be performed?\nThe answer he receives is that they would not really be useful, because we\nmust consider the remote as well as the immediate consequences of actions,\nand although in particular instances a falsehood or even a murder might\nappear beneficial, it is one of the most important interests of mankind\nthat the sanctity of life and property should be preserved, and that a\nhigh standard of veracity should be maintained. But this answer is\nobviously insufficient. It is necessary to show that the extent to which a\nsingle act of what the world calls crime would weaken these great bulwarks\nof society is such as to counterbalance the immediate good which it\nproduces. If it does not, the balance will be on the side of happiness,\nthe murder or theft or falsehood will be useful, and therefore, on\nutilitarian principles, will be virtuous. Now even in the case of public\nacts, the effect of the example of an obscure individual is usually small,\nbut if the act be accomplished in perfect secrecy, the evil effects\nresulting from the example will be entirely absent. It has been said that\nit would be dangerous to give men permission to perpetrate what men call\ncrimes in secret. This may be a very good reason why the utilitarian\nshould not proclaim such a principle, but it is no reason why he should\nnot act upon it. If a man be convinced that no act which is useful can\npossibly be criminal, if it be in his power by perpetrating what is called\na crime to obtain an end of great immediate utility, and if he is able to\nsecure such absolute secrecy as to render it perfectly certain that his\nact cannot become an example, and cannot in consequence exercise any\ninfluence on the general standard of morals, it appears demonstrably\ncertain that on utilitarian principles he would be justified in performing\nit. If what we call virtue be only virtuous _because_ it is useful, it can\nonly be virtuous _when_ it is useful. The question of the morality of a\nlarge number of acts must therefore depend upon the probability of their\ndetection,(71) and a little adroit hypocrisy must often, not merely in\nappearance but in reality, convert a vice into a virtue. The only way by\nwhich it has been attempted with any plausibility to evade this conclusion\nhas been by asserting that the act would impair the disposition of the\nagent, or in other words predispose him on other occasions to perform acts\nwhich are generally hurtful to society. But in the first place a single\nact has no such effect upon disposition as to counteract a great immediate\ngood, especially when, as we have supposed, that act is not a revolt\nagainst what is believed to be right, but is performed under the full\nbelief that it is in accordance with the one rational rule of morals, and\nin the next place, as far as the act would form a habit it would appear to\nbe the habit of in all cases regulating actions by a precise and minute\ncalculation of their utility, which is the very ideal of utilitarian\nvirtue.\n\nIf our enquirer happens to be a man of strong imagination and of solitary\nhabits, it is very probable that he will be accustomed to live much in a\nworld of imagination, a world peopled with beings that are to him as real\nas those of flesh, with its joys and sorrows, its temptations and its\nsins. In obedience to the common feelings of our nature he may have\nstruggled long and painfully against sins of the imagination, which he was\nnever seriously tempted to convert into sins of action. But his new\nphilosophy will be admirably fitted to console his mind. If remorse be\nabsent the indulgence of the most vicious imagination is a pleasure, and\nif this indulgence does not lead to action it is a clear gain, and\ntherefore to be applauded. That a course may be continually pursued in\nimagination without leading to corresponding actions he will speedily\ndiscover, and indeed it has always been one of the chief objections\nbrought against fiction that the constant exercise of the sympathies in\nfavour of imaginary beings is found positively to indispose men to\npractical benevolence.(72)\n\nProceeding farther in his course, our moralist will soon find reason to\nqualify the doctrine of remote consequences, which plays so large a part\nin the calculations of utilitarianism. It is said that it is criminal to\ndestroy human beings, even when the crime would appear productive of great\nutility, for every instance of murder weakens the sanctity of life. But\nexperience shows that it is possible for men to be perfectly indifferent\nto one particular section of human life, without this indifference\nextending to others. Thus among the ancient Greeks, the murder or\nexposition of the children of poor parents was continually practised with\nthe most absolute callousness, without exercising any appreciable\ninfluence upon the respect for adult life. In the same manner what may be\ntermed religious unveracity, or the habit of propagating what are deemed\nuseful superstitions, with the consciousness of their being false, or at\nleast suppressing or misrepresenting the facts that might invalidate them,\ndoes not in any degree imply industrial unveracity. Nothing is more common\nthan to find extreme dishonesty in speculation coexisting with scrupulous\nveracity in business. If any vice might be expected to conform strictly to\nthe utilitarian theory, it would be cruelty; but cruelty to animals may\nexist without leading to cruelty to men, and even where spectacles in\nwhich animal suffering forms a leading element exercise an injurious\ninfluence on character, it is more than doubtful whether the measure of\nhuman unhappiness they may ultimately produce is at all equivalent to the\npassionate enjoyment they immediately afford.\n\nThis last consideration, however, makes it necessary to notice a new, and\nas it appears to me, almost grotesque development of the utilitarian\ntheory. The duty of humanity to animals, though for a long period too much\nneglected, may, on the principles of the intuitive moralist, be easily\nexplained and justified. Our circumstances and characters produce in us\nmany and various affections towards all with whom we come in contact, and\nour consciences pronounce these affections to be good or bad. We feel that\nhumanity or benevolence is a good affection, and also that it is due in\ndifferent degrees to different classes. Thus it is not only natural but\nright that a man should care for his own family more than for the world at\nlarge, and this obligation applies not only to parents who are responsible\nfor having brought their children into existence, and to children who owe\na debt of gratitude to their parents, but also to brothers who have no\nsuch special tie. So too we feel it to be both unnatural and wrong to feel\nno stronger interest in our fellow-countrymen than in other men. In the\nsame way we feel that there is a wide interval between the humanity it is\nboth natural and right to exhibit towards animals, and that which is due\nto our own species. Strong philanthropy could hardly coexist with\ncannibalism, and a man who had no hesitation in destroying human life for\nthe sake of obtaining the skins of the victims, or of freeing himself from\nsome trifling inconvenience, would scarcely be eulogised for his\nbenevolence. Yet a man may be regarded as very humane to animals who has\nno scruple in sacrificing their lives for his food, his pleasures, or his\nconvenience.\n\nTowards the close of the last century an energetic agitation in favour of\nhumanity to animals arose in England, and the utilitarian moralists, who\nwere then rising into influence, caught the spirit of their time and made\nvery creditable efforts to extend it.(73) It is manifest, however, that a\ntheory which recognised no other end in virtue than the promotion of human\nhappiness, could supply no adequate basis for the movement. Some of the\nrecent members of the school have accordingly enlarged their theory,\nmaintaining that acts are virtuous when they produce a net result of\nhappiness, and vicious when they produce a net result of suffering,\naltogether irrespective of the question whether this enjoyment or\nsuffering is of men or animals. In other words, they place the duty of man\nto animals on exactly the same basis as the duty of man to his fellow-men,\nmaintaining that no suffering can be rightly inflicted on brutes, which\ndoes not produce a larger amount of happiness to man.(74)\n\nThe first reflection suggested by this theory is, that it appears\ndifficult to understand how, on the principles of the inductive school, it\ncould be arrived at. Benevolence, as we have seen, according to these\nwriters begins in interest. We first of all do good to men, because it is\nfor our advantage, though the force of the habit may at last act\nirrespective of interest. But in the case of animals which cannot resent\nbarbarity, this foundation of self-interest does not for the most part(75)\nexist. Probably, however, an association of ideas might help to solve the\ndifficulty, and the habit of benevolence generated originally from the\nsocial relations of men might at last be extended to the animal world; but\nthat it should be so to the extent of placing the duty to animals on the\nsame basis as the duty to men, I do not anticipate, or (at the risk of\nbeing accused of great inhumanity), I must add, desire. I cannot look\nforward to a time when no one will wear any article of dress formed out of\nthe skin of an animal, or feed upon animal flesh, till he has ascertained\nthat the pleasure he derives from doing so, exceeds the pain inflicted\nupon the animal, as well as the pleasure of which by abridging its life he\nhas deprived it.(76) And supposing that with such a calculation before\nhim, the utilitarian should continue to feed on the flesh of animals, his\nprinciple might carry him to further conclusions, from which I confess I\nshould recoil. If, when Swift was writing his famous essay in favour of\nemploying for food the redundant babies of a half-starving population, he\nhad been informed that, according to the more advanced moralists, to eat a\nchild, and to eat a sheep, rest upon exactly the same ground; that in the\none case as in the other, the single question for the moralist is, whether\nthe repast on the whole produces more pleasure than pain, it must be owned\nthat the discovery would have greatly facilitated his task.\n\nThe considerations I have adduced will, I think, be sufficient to show\nthat the utilitarian principle if pushed to its full logical consequences\nwould be by no means as accordant with ordinary moral notions as is\nsometimes alleged; that it would, on the contrary, lead to conclusions\nutterly and outrageously repugnant to the moral feelings it is intended to\nexplain. I will conclude this part of my argument by very briefly\nadverting to two great fields in which, as I believe, it would prove\nespecially revolutionary.\n\nThe first of these is the field of chastity. It will be necessary for me\nin the course of the present work to dwell at greater length than I should\ndesire upon questions connected with this virtue. At present, I will\nmerely ask the reader to conceive a mind from which all notion of the\nintrinsic excellence or nobility of purity was banished, and to suppose\nsuch a mind comparing, by a utilitarian standard, a period in which\nsensuality was almost unbridled, such as the age of Athenian glory or the\nEnglish restoration, with a period of austere virtue. The question which\nof these societies was morally the best would thus resolve itself solely\ninto the question in which there was produced the greatest amount of\nenjoyment and the smallest amount of suffering. The pleasures of domestic\nlife, the pleasures resulting from a freer social intercourse,(77) the\ndifferent degrees of suffering inflicted on those who violated the law of\nchastity, the ulterior consequences of each mode of life upon well-being\nand upon population, would be the chief elements of the comparison. Can\nany one believe that the balance of enjoyment would be so unquestionably\nand so largely on the side of the more austere society as to justify the\ndegree of superiority which is assigned to it?(78)\n\nThe second sphere is that of speculative truth. No class of men have more\nhighly valued an unflinching hostility to superstition than utilitarians.\nYet it is more than doubtful whether upon their principles it can be\njustified. Many superstitions do undoubtedly answer to the Greek\nconception of slavish \u201cfear of the gods,\u201d and have been productive of\nunspeakable misery to mankind, but there are very many others of a\ndifferent tendency. Superstitions appeal to our hopes as well as to our\nfears. They often meet and gratify the inmost longings of the heart. They\noffer certainties when reason can only afford possibilities or\nprobabilities. They supply conceptions on which the imagination loves to\ndwell. They sometimes even impart a new sanction to moral truths. Creating\nwants which they alone can satisfy, and fears which they alone can quell,\nthey often become essential elements of happiness, and their consoling\nefficacy is most felt in the languid or troubled hours when it is most\nneeded. We owe more to our illusions than to our knowledge. The\nimagination, which is altogether constructive, probably contributes more\nto our happiness than the reason, which in the sphere of speculation is\nmainly critical and destructive. The rude charm which in the hour of\ndanger or distress the savage clasps so confidently to his breast, the\nsacred picture which is believed to shed a hallowing and protecting\ninfluence over the poor man\u2019s cottage, can bestow a more real consolation\nin the darkest hour of human suffering than can be afforded by the\ngrandest theories of philosophy. The first desire of the heart is to find\nsomething on which to lean. Happiness is a condition of feeling, not a\ncondition of circumstances, and to common minds one of its first\nessentials is the exclusion of painful and harassing doubt. A system of\nbelief may be false, superstitious, and reactionary, and may yet be\nconducive to human happiness if it furnishes great multitudes of men with\nwhat they believe to be a key to the universe, if it consoles them in\nthose seasons of agonizing bereavement when the consolations of\nenlightened reason are but empty words, if it supports their feeble and\ntottering minds in the gloomy hours of sickness and of approaching death.\nA credulous and superstitious nature may be degraded, but in the many\ncases where superstition does not assume a persecuting or appalling form\nit is not unhappy, and degradation, apart from unhappiness, can have no\nplace in utilitarian ethics. No error can be more grave than to imagine\nthat when a critical spirit is abroad the pleasant beliefs will all\nremain, and the painful ones alone will perish. To introduce into the mind\nthe consciousness of ignorance and the pangs of doubt is to inflict or\nendure much suffering, which may even survive the period of transition.\n\u201cWhy is it,\u201d said Luther\u2019s wife, looking sadly back upon the sensuous\ncreed which she had left, \u201cthat in our old faith we prayed so often and so\nwarmly, and that our prayers are now so few and so cold?\u201d(79) It is\nrelated of an old monk named Serapion, who had embraced the heresy of the\nanthropomorphites, that he was convinced by a brother monk of the folly of\nattributing to the Almighty a human form. He bowed his reason humbly to\nthe Catholic creed; but when he knelt down to pray, the image which his\nimagination had conceived, and on which for so many years his affections\nhad been concentrated, had disappeared, and the old man burst into tears,\nexclaiming, \u201cYou have deprived me of my God.\u201d(80)\n\nThese are indeed facts which must be deeply painful to all who are\nconcerned with the history of opinion. The possibility of often adding to\nthe happiness of men by diffusing abroad, or at least sustaining pleasing\nfalsehoods, and the suffering that must commonly result from their\ndissolution, can hardly reasonably be denied. There is one, and but one,\nadequate reason that can always justify men in critically reviewing what\nthey have been taught. It is, the conviction that opinions should not be\nregarded as mere mental luxuries, that truth should be deemed an end\ndistinct from and superior to utility, and that it is a moral duty to\npursue it, whether it leads to pleasure or whether it leads to pain. Among\nthe many wise sayings which antiquity ascribed to Pythagoras, few are more\nremarkable than his division of virtue into two distinct branches\u2014to be\ntruthful and to do good.(81)\n\nOf the sanctions which, according to the utilitarians, constitute the sole\nmotives to virtue, there is one, as I have said, unexceptionably adequate.\nThose who adopt the religious sanction, can always appeal to a balance of\ninterest in favour of virtue; but as the great majority of modern\nutilitarians confidently sever their theory from all theological\nconsiderations, I will dismiss this sanction with two or three remarks.\n\nIn the first place, it is obvious that those who regard the arbitrary will\nof the Deity as the sole rule of morals, render it perfectly idle to\nrepresent the Divine attributes as deserving of our admiration. To speak\nof the goodness of God, either implies that there is such a quality as\ngoodness, to which the Divine acts conform, or it is an unmeaning\ntautology. Why should we extol, or how can we admire, the perfect goodness\nof a Being whose will and acts constitute the sole standard or definition\nof perfection?(82) The theory which teaches that the arbitrary will of the\nDeity is the one rule of morals, and the anticipation of future rewards\nand punishments the one reason for conforming to it, consists of two\nparts. The first annihilates the goodness of God; the second, the virtue\nof man.\n\nAnother and equally obvious remark is, that while these theologians\nrepresent the hope of future rewards, and the fear of future punishments,\nas the only reason for doing right, one of our strongest reasons for\nbelieving in the existence of these rewards and punishments, is our\ndeep-seated feeling of merit and demerit. That the present disposition of\naffairs is in many respects unjust, that suffering often attends a course\nwhich deserves reward, and happiness a course which deserves punishment,\nleads men to infer a future state of retribution. Take away the\nconsciousness of desert, and the inference would no longer be made.\n\nA third remark, which I believe to be equally true, but which may not be\nacquiesced in with equal readiness, is that without the concurrence of a\nmoral faculty, it is wholly impossible to prove from nature that supreme\ngoodness of the Creator, which utilitarian theologians assume. We speak of\nthe benevolence shown in the joy of the insect glittering in the sunbeam,\nin the protecting instincts so liberally bestowed among the animal world,\nin the kindness of the parent to its young, in the happiness of little\nchildren, in the beauty and the bounty of nature, but is there not another\nside to the picture? The hideous disease, the countless forms of rapine\nand of suffering, the entozoa that live within the bodies, and feed upon\nthe anguish of sentient beings, the ferocious instinct of the cat, that\nprolongs with delight the agonies of its victim, all the multitudinous\nforms of misery that are manifested among the innocent portion of\ncreation, are not these also the works of nature? We speak of the Divine\nveracity. What is the whole history of the intellectual progress of the\nworld but one long struggle of the intellect of man to emancipate itself\nfrom the deceptions of nature? Every object that meets the eye of the\nsavage awakens his curiosity only to lure him into some deadly error. The\nsun that seems a diminutive light revolving around his world; the moon and\nthe stars that appear formed only to light his path; the strange fantastic\ndiseases that suggest irresistibly the notion of present d\u00e6mons; the\nterrific phenomena of nature which appear the results, not of blind\nforces, but of isolated spiritual agencies\u2014all these things fatally,\ninevitably, invincibly impel him into superstition. Through long centuries\nthe superstitions thus generated have deluged the world with blood.\nMillions of prayers have been vainly breathed to what we now know were\ninexorable laws of nature. Only after ages of toil did the mind of man\nemancipate itself from those deadly errors to which by the deceptive\nappearances of nature the long infancy of humanity is universally doomed.\n\nAnd in the laws of wealth how different are the appearances from the\nrealities of things! Who can estimate the wars that have been kindled, the\nbitterness and the wretchedness that have been caused, by errors relating\nto the apparent antagonism of the interests of nations which were so\nnatural that for centuries they entangled the very strongest intellects,\nand it was scarcely till our own day that a tardy science came to dispel\nthem?\n\nWhat shall we say to these things? If induction alone were our guide, if\nwe possessed absolutely no knowledge of some things being in their own\nnature good, and others in their own nature evil, how could we rise from\nthis spectacle of nature to the conception of an all-perfect Author? Even\nif we could discover a predominance of benevolence in the creation, we\nshould still regard the mingled attributes of nature as a reflex of the\nmingled attributes of its Contriver. Our knowledge of the Supreme\nExcellence, our best evidence even of the existence of the Creator, is\nderived not from the material universe but from our own moral nature.(83)\nIt is not of reason but of faith. In other words it springs from that\ninstinctive or moral nature which is as truly a part of our being as is\nour reason, which teaches us what reason could never teach, the supreme\nand transcendent excellence of moral good, which rising dissatisfied above\nthis world of sense, proves itself by the very intensity of its aspiration\nto be adapted for another sphere, and which constitutes at once the\nevidence of a Divine element within us, and the augury of the future that\nis before us.(84)\n\nThese things belong rather to the sphere of feeling than of reasoning.\nThose who are most deeply persuaded of their truth, will probably feel\nthat they are unable by argument to express adequately the intensity of\ntheir conviction, but they may point to the recorded experience of the\nbest and greatest men in all ages, to the incapacity of terrestrial things\nto satisfy our nature, to the manifest tendency, both in individuals and\nnations, of a pure and heroic life to kindle, and of a selfish and corrupt\nlife to cloud, these aspirations, to the historical fact that no\nphilosophy and no scepticism have been able permanently to repress them.\nThe lines of our moral nature tend upwards. In it we have the common root\nof religion and of ethics, for the same consciousness that tells us that,\neven when it is in fact the weakest element of our constitution, it is by\nright supreme, commanding and authoritative, teaches us also that it is\nDivine. All the nobler religions that have governed mankind, have done so\nby virtue of the affinity of their teaching with this nature, by speaking,\nas common religious language correctly describes it, \u201cto the heart,\u201d by\nappealing not to self-interest, but to that Divine element of\nself-sacrifice which is latent in every soul.(85) The reality of this\nmoral nature is the one great question of natural theology, for it\ninvolves that connection between our own and a higher nature, without\nwhich the existence of a First Cause were a mere question of arch\u00e6ology,\nand religion but an exercise of the imagination.\n\nI return gladly to the secular sanctions of utilitarianism. The majority\nof its disciples assure us that these are sufficient to establish their\ntheory, or in other words, that our duty coincides so strictly with our\ninterest when rightly understood, that a perfectly prudent would\nnecessarily become a perfectly virtuous man.(86) Bodily vice they tell us\nultimately brings bodily weakness and suffering. Extravagance is followed\nby ruin; unbridled passions by the loss of domestic peace; disregard for\nthe interests of others by social or legal penalties; while on the other\nhand, the most moral is also the most tranquil disposition; benevolence is\none of the truest of our pleasures, and virtue may become by habit, an\nessential of enjoyment. As the shopkeeper who has made his fortune, still\nsometimes continues at the counter, because the daily routine has become\nnecessary to his happiness, so the \u201cmoral hero\u201d may continue to practise\nthat virtue which was at first the mere instrument of his pleasures, as\nbeing in itself more precious than all besides.(87)\n\nThis theory of the perfect coincidence of virtue and interest rightly\nunderstood, which has always been a commonplace of moralists, and has been\nadvocated by many who were far from wishing to resolve virtue into\nprudence, contains no doubt a certain amount of truth, but only of the\nmost general kind. It does not apply to nations as wholes, for although\nluxurious and effeminate vices do undoubtedly corrode and enervate\nnational character, the histories of ancient Rome and of not a few modern\nmonarchies abundantly prove that a career of consistent rapacity,\nambition, selfishness, and fraud may be eminently conducive to national\nprosperity.(88) It does not apply to imperfectly organised societies,\nwhere the restraints of public opinion are unfelt and where force is the\none measure of right. It does not apply except in a very partial degree\neven to the most civilised of mankind. It is, indeed, easy to show that in\na polished community a certain low standard of virtue is essential to\nprosperity, to paint the evils of unrestrained passions, and to prove that\nit is better to obey than to violate the laws of society. But if turning\nfrom the criminal or the drunkard we were to compare the man who simply\nfalls in with or slightly surpasses the average morals of those about him,\nand indulges in a little vice which is neither injurious to his own health\nnor to his reputation, with the man who earnestly and painfully adopts a\nmuch higher standard than that of his time or of his class, we should be\ndriven to another conclusion. Honesty it is said is the best policy\u2014a\nfact, however, which depends very much upon the condition of the police\nforce\u2014but heroic virtue must rest upon a different basis. If happiness in\nany of its forms be the supreme object of life, moderation is the most\nemphatic counsel of our being, but moderation is as opposed to heroism as\nto vice. There is no form of intellectual or moral excellence which has\nnot a general tendency to produce happiness if cultivated in moderation.\nThere are very few which if cultivated to great perfection have not a\ntendency directly the reverse. Thus a mind that is sufficiently enlarged\nto range abroad amid the pleasures of intellect has no doubt secured a\nfund of inexhaustible enjoyment; but he who inferred from this that the\nhighest intellectual eminence was the condition most favourable to\nhappiness would be lamentably deceived. The diseased nervous sensibility\nthat accompanies intense mental exertion, the weary, wasting sense of\nignorance and vanity, the disenchantment and disintegration that commonly\nfollow a profound research, have filled literature with mournful echoes of\nthe words of the royal sage, \u201cIn much wisdom is much grief, and he that\nincreaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.\u201d The lives of men of genius have\nbeen for the most part a conscious and deliberate realisation of the\nancient myth\u2014the tree of knowledge and the tree of life stood side by\nside, and they chose the tree of knowledge rather than the tree of life.\n\nNor is it otherwise in the realm of morals.(89) The virtue which is most\nconducive to happiness is plainly that which can be realised without much\nsuffering, and sustained without much effort. Legal and physical penalties\napply only to the grosser and more extreme forms of vice. Social penalties\nmay strike the very highest forms of virtue.(90) That very sentiment of\nunity with mankind which utilitarians assure us is one day to become so\nstrong as to overpower all unsocial feelings, would make it more and more\nimpossible for men consistently with their happiness to adopt any course,\nwhether very virtuous or very vicious, that would place them out of\nharmony with the general sentiment of society. It may be said that the\ntranquillity of a perfectly virtuous mind is the highest form of\nhappiness, and may be reasonably preferred not only to material\nadvantages, but also to the approbation of society; but no man can fully\nattain, and few can even approximate, to such a condition. When vicious\npassions and impulses are very strong, it is idle to tell the sufferer\nthat he would be more happy if his nature were radically different from\nwhat it is. If happiness be his object, he must regulate his course with a\nview to the actual condition of his being, and there can be little doubt\nthat his peace would be most promoted by a compromise with vice. The\nselfish theory of morals applies only to the virtues of temperament, and\nnot to that much higher form of virtue which is sustained in defiance of\ntemperament.(91) We have no doubt a certain pleasure in cultivating our\ngood tendencies, but we have by no means the same pleasure in repressing\nour bad ones. There are men whose whole lives are spent in willing one\nthing, and desiring the opposite. In such cases as these virtue clearly\ninvolves a sacrifice of happiness; for the suffering caused by resisting\nnatural tendencies is much greater than would ensue from their moderate\ngratification.\n\nThe plain truth is that no proposition can be more palpably and\negregiously false than the assertion that as far as this world is\nconcerned, it is invariably conducive to the happiness of a man to pursue\nthe most virtuous career. Circumstances and disposition will make one man\nfind his highest happiness in the happiness, and another man in the\nmisery, of his kind; and if the second man acts according to his interest,\nthe utilitarian, however much he may deplore the result, has no right to\nblame or condemn the agent. For that agent is following his greatest\nhappiness, and this, in the eyes of utilitarians, in one form or another,\nis the highest, or to speak more accurately, the only motive by which\nhuman nature can be actuated.\n\nWe may remark too that the disturbance or pain which does undoubtedly\nusually accompany what is evil, bears no kind of proportion to the\nenormity of the guilt. An irritability of temper, which is chiefly due to\na derangement of the nervous system, or a habit of procrastination or\nindecision, will often cause more suffering than some of the worst vices\nthat can corrupt the heart.(92)\n\nBut it may be said this calculation of pains and pleasures is defective\nthrough the omission of one element. Although a man who had a very strong\nnatural impulse towards some vice would appear more likely to promote the\ntranquillity of his nature by a moderate and circumspect gratification of\nthat vice, than by endeavouring painfully to repress his natural\ntendencies, yet he possesses a conscience which adjudicates upon his\nconduct, and its sting or its approval constitutes a pain or pleasure so\nintense, as more than to redress the balance. Now of course, no intuitive\nmoralist will deny, what for a long time his school may be almost said to\nhave been alone in asserting, the reality of conscience, or the pleasures\nand pains it may afford. He simply denies, and he appeals to consciousness\nin attestation of his position, that those pains and pleasures are so\npowerful or so proportioned to our acts as to become an adequate basis for\nvirtue. Conscience, whether we regard it as an original faculty, or as a\nproduct of the association of ideas, exercises two distinct functions. It\npoints out a difference between right and wrong, and when its commands are\nviolated, it inflicts a certain measure of suffering and disturbance. The\nfirst function it exercises persistently through life. The second it only\nexercises under certain special circumstances. It is scarcely conceivable\nthat a man in the possession of his faculties should pass a life of gross\ndepravity and crime without being conscious that he was doing wrong; but\nit is extremely possible for him to do so without this consciousness\nhaving any appreciable influence upon his tranquillity. The condition of\ntheir consciences, as Mr. Carlyle observes, has less influence on the\nhappiness of men than the condition of their livers. Considered as a\nsource of pain, conscience bears a striking resemblance to the feeling of\ndisgust. Notwithstanding the assertion of Dr. Johnson, I venture to\nmaintain that there are multitudes to whom the necessity of discharging\nthe duties of a butcher would be so inexpressibly painful and revolting,\nthat if they could obtain flesh diet on no other condition, they would\nrelinquish it for ever. But to those who are inured to the trade, this\nrepugnance has simply ceased. It has no place in their emotions or\ncalculations. Nor can it be reasonably questioned that most men by an\nassiduous attendance at the slaughter-house could acquire a similar\nindifference. In like manner, the reproaches of conscience are doubtless a\nvery real and important form of suffering to a sensitive, scrupulous, and\nvirtuous girl who has committed some trivial act of levity or\ndisobedience; but to an old and hardened criminal they are a matter of the\nmost absolute indifference.\n\nNow it is undoubtedly conceivable, that by an association of ideas men\nmight acquire a feeling that would cause that which would naturally be\npainful to them to be pleasurable, and that which would naturally be\npleasurable to be painful.(93) But the question will immediately arise,\nwhy should they respect this feeling? We have seen that, according to the\ninductive theory, there is no such thing as natural duty. Men enter into\nlife solely desirous of seeking their own happiness. The whole edifice of\nvirtue arises from the observed fact, that owing to the constitution of\nour nature, and the intimacy of our social relations, it is necessary for\nour happiness to abstain from some courses that would be immediately\npleasurable and to pursue others that are immediately the reverse.\nSelf-interest is the one ultimate reason for virtue, however much the\nmoral chemistry of Hartley may disguise and transform it. Ought or ought\nnot, means nothing more than the prospect of acquiring or of losing\npleasure. The fact that one line of conduct promotes, and another impairs\nthe happiness of others is, according to these moralists, in the last\nanalysis, no reason whatever for pursuing the former or avoiding the\nlatter, unless such a course is that which brings us the greatest\nhappiness. The happiness may arise from the action of society upon\nourselves, or from our own naturally benevolent disposition, or, again,\nfrom an association of ideas, which means the force of a habit we have\nformed, but in any case our own happiness is the one possible or\nconceivable motive of action. If this be a true picture of human nature,\nthe reasonable course for every man is to modify his disposition in such a\nmanner that he may attain the greatest possible amount of enjoyment. If he\nhas formed an association of ideas, or contracted a habit which inflicts\nmore pain than it prevents, or prevents more pleasure than it affords, his\nreasonable course is to dissolve that association, to destroy that habit.\nThis is what he \u201cought\u201d to do according to the only meaning that word can\npossess in the utilitarian vocabulary. If he does not, he will justly\nincur the charge of imprudence, which is the only charge utilitarianism\ncan consistently bring against vice.\n\nThat it would be for the happiness as it would certainly be in the power\nof a man of a temperament such as I have lately described, to quench that\nconscientious feeling, which by its painful reproaches prevents him from\npursuing the course that would be most conducive to his tranquillity, I\nconceive to be self-evident. And, indeed, on the whole, it is more than\ndoubtful whether conscience, considered apart from the course of action it\nprescribes, is not the cause of more pain than pleasure. Its reproaches\nare more felt than its approval. The self-complacency of a virtuous man\nreflecting with delight upon his own exceeding merit, is frequently spoken\nof in the writings of moral philosophers,(94) but is rarely found in\nactual life where the most tranquil is seldom the most perfect nature,\nwhere the sensitiveness of conscience increases at least in proportion to\nmoral growth, and where in the best men a feeling of modesty and humility\nis always present to check the exuberance of self-gratulation.\n\nIn every sound system of morals and religion the motives of virtue become\nmore powerful the more the mind is concentrated upon them. It is when they\nare lost sight of, when they are obscured by passion, unrealised or\nforgotten, that they cease to operate. But it is a peculiarity of the\nutilitarian conception of virtue that it is wholly unable to resist the\nsolvent of analysis, and that the more the mind realises its origin and\nits nature, the more its influence on character must decline. The\npleasures of the senses will always defy the force of analysis, for they\nhave a real foundation in our being. They have their basis in the eternal\nnature of things. But the pleasure we derive from the practice of virtue\nrests, according to this school, on a wholly different basis. It is the\nresult of casual and artificial association, of habit, of a confusion by\nthe imagination of means with ends, of a certain dignity with which\nsociety invests qualities or actions that are useful to itself. Just in\nproportion as this is felt, just in proportion as the mind separates the\nidea of virtue from that of natural excellence and obligation, and\nrealises the purely artificial character of the connection, just in that\nproportion will the coercive power of the moral motive be destroyed. The\nutilitarian rule of judging actions and dispositions by their tendency to\npromote or diminish happiness, or the maxim of Kant that man should always\nact so that the rule of his conduct might be adopted as a law by all\nrational beings, may be very useful as a guide in life; but in order that\nthey should acquire moral weight, it is necessary to presuppose the sense\nof moral obligation, the consciousness that duty, when discovered, has a\nlegitimate claim to be the guiding principle of our lives. And it is this\nelement which, in the eye of reason, the mere artificial association of\nideas can never furnish.\n\nIf the patience of the reader has enabled him to accompany me through this\nlong train of tedious arguments, he will, I think, have concluded that the\nutilitarian theory, though undoubtedly held by many men of the purest, and\nby some men of almost heroic virtue, would if carried to its logical\nconclusions prove subversive of morality, and especially, and in the very\nhighest degree, unfavourable to self-denial and to heroism. Even if it\nexplains these, it fails to justify them, and conscience being traced to a\nmere confusion of the means of happiness with its end, would be wholly\nunable to resist the solvent of criticism. That this theory of conscience\ngives a true or adequate description of the phenomenon it seeks to\nexplain, no intuitive moralist will admit. It is a complete though common\nmistake to suppose that the business of the moralist is merely to explain\nthe genesis of certain feelings we possess. At the root of all morals lies\nan intellectual judgment which is clearly distinct from liking or\ndisliking, from pleasure or from pain. A man who has injured his position\nby some foolish but perfectly innocent act, or who has inadvertently\nviolated some social rule, may experience an emotion of self-reproach or\nof shame quite as acute as if he had committed a crime. But he is at the\nsame time clearly conscious that his conduct is not a fit subject for\nmoral reprobation, that the grounds on which it may be condemned are of a\ndifferent and of a lower kind. The sense of obligation and of legitimate\nsupremacy, which is the essential and characteristic feature of\nconscience, and which distinguishes it from all the other parts of our\nnature, is wholly unaccounted for by the association of ideas. To say that\na certain course of conduct is pleasing, and that a certain amount of pain\nresults from the weakening of feelings that impel men towards it, is\nplainly different from what men mean when they say we ought to pursue it.\nThe virtue of Hartley is, in its last analysis, but a disease of the\nimagination. It may be more advantageous to society than avarice; but it\nis formed in the same manner, and has exactly the same degree of binding\nforce.(95)\n\nThese considerations will help to supply an answer to the common\nutilitarian objection that to speak of duty as distinct from self-interest\nis unmeaning, because it is absurd to say that we are under an obligation\nto do any thing when no evil consequences would result to us from not\ndoing it. Rewards and punishments it may be answered are undoubtedly\nnecessary to enforce, but they are not necessary to constitute, duty. This\ndistinction, whether it be real or not, has at all events the advantage of\nappearing self-evident to all who are not philosophers. Thus when a party\nof colonists occupy a new territory they divide the unoccupied land among\nthemselves, and they murder, or employ for the gratification of their\nlusts, the savage inhabitants. Both acts are done with perfect impunity,\nbut one is felt to be innocent and the other wrong. A lawful government\nappropriates the land and protects the aboriginals, supporting its\nenactments by penalties. In the one case the law both creates and enforces\na duty, in the other it only enforces it. The intuitive moralist simply\nasserts that we have the power of perceiving that certain courses of\naction are higher, nobler, and better than others, and that by the\nconstitution of our being, this fact, which is generically distinct from\nthe prospect of pleasure or the reverse, may and ought to be and\ncontinually is a motive of action. It is no doubt possible for a man to\nprefer the lower course, and in this case we say he is deserving of\npunishment, and if he remains unpunished we say that it is unjust. But if\nthere were no power to reward or punish him, his acts would not be\nindifferent. They would still be intelligibly described as essentially\nbase or noble, shameful though there were none to censure, admirable\nthough there were none to admire.\n\nThat men have the power of preferring other objects than happiness is a\nproposition which must ultimately be left to the attestation of\nconsciousness. That the pursuit of virtue, however much happiness may\neventually follow in its train, is in the first instance an example of\nthis preference, must be established by that common voice of mankind which\nhas invariably regarded a virtuous motive as generically different from an\ninterested one. And indeed even when the conflict between strong passions\nand a strong sense of duty does not exist it is impossible to measure the\ndegrees of virtue by the scale of enjoyment. The highest nature is rarely\nthe happiest. Petronius Arbiter was, very probably, a happier man than\nMarcus Aurelius. For eighteen centuries the religious instinct of\nChristendom has recognised its ideal in the form of a \u201cMan of Sorrows.\u201d\n\nConsiderations such as I have now urged lead the intuitive moralists to\nreject the principles of the utilitarian. They acknowledge indeed that the\neffect of actions upon the happiness of mankind forms a most important\nelement in determining their moral quality, but they maintain that without\nnatural moral perceptions we never should have known that it was our duty\nto seek the happiness of mankind when it diverged from our own, and they\ndeny that virtue was either originally evolved from or is necessarily\nproportioned to utility. They acknowledge that in the existing condition\nof society there is at least a general coincidence between the paths of\nvirtue and of prosperity, but they contend that the obligation of virtue\nis of such a nature that no conceivable convulsion of affairs could\ndestroy it, and that it would continue even if the government of the world\nbelonged to supreme malice instead of supreme benevolence. Virtue, they\nbelieve, is something more than a calculation or a habit. It is impossible\nto conceive its fundamental principles reversed. Notwithstanding the\nstrong tendency to confuse cognate feelings, the sense of duty and the\nsense of utility remain perfectly distinct in the apprehension of mankind,\nand we are quite capable of recognising each separate ingredient in the\nsame act. Our respect for a gallant but dangerous enemy, our contempt for\na useful traitor, our care in the last moments of life for the interests\nof those who survive us, our clear distinction between intentional and\nunintentional injuries, and between the consciousness of imprudence and\nthe consciousness of guilt, our conviction that the pursuit of interest\nshould always be checked by a sense of duty, and that selfish and moral\nmotives are so essentially opposed, that the presence of the former\nnecessarily weakens the latter, our indignation at those who when honour\nor gratitude call them to sacrifice their interests pause to calculate\nremote consequences, the feeling of remorse which differs from every other\nemotion of our nature\u2014in a word, the universal, unstudied sentiments of\nmankind all concur in leading us to separate widely our virtuous\naffections from our selfish ones. Just as pleasure and pain are ultimate\ngrounds of action, and no reason can be given why we should seek the\nformer and avoid the latter, except that it is the constitution of our\nnature that we should do so, so we are conscious that the words right and\nwrong express ultimate intelligible motives, that these motives are\ngenerically different from the others, that they are of a higher order,\nand that they carry with them a sense of obligation. Any scheme of morals\nthat omits these facts fails to give an accurate and adequate description\nof the states of feeling which consciousness reveals. The consciences of\nmen in every age would have echoed the assertion of Cicero that to\nsacrifice pleasure with a view of obtaining any form or modification of\npleasure in return, no more answers to our idea of virtue, than to lend\nmoney at interest to our idea of charity. The conception of pure\ndisinterestedness is presupposed in our estimates of virtue. It is the\nroot of all the emotions with which we contemplate acts of heroism. We\nfeel that man is capable of pursuing what he believes to be right although\npain and disaster and mental suffering and an early death be the\nconsequence, and although no prospect of future reward lighten upon his\ntomb. This is the highest prerogative of our being, the point of contact\nbetween the human nature and the divine.\n\nIn addition to the direct arguments in its support, the utilitarian school\nowes much of its influence to some very powerful moral and intellectual\npredispositions in its favour\u2014the first, which we shall hereafter examine,\nconsisting of the tendency manifested in certain conditions of society\ntowards the qualities it is most calculated to produce, and the second of\nthe almost irresistible attraction which unity and precision exercise on\nmany minds. It was this desire to simplify human nature, by reducing its\nvarious faculties and complex operations to a single principle or process,\nthat gave its great popularity to the sensational school of the last\ncentury. It led most metaphysicians of that school to deny the duality of\nhuman nature. It led Bonnet and Condillac to propose an animated statue,\nendowed with the five senses as channels of ideas, and with faculties\nexclusively employed in transforming the products of sensation, as a\nperfect representative of humanity. It led Helv\u00e9tius to assert that the\noriginal faculties of all men were precisely the same, all the difference\nbetween what we call genius and what we call stupidity arising from\ndifferences of circumstances, and all the difference between men and\nanimals arising mainly from the structure of the human hand. In morals,\ntheories of unification are peculiarly plausible, and I think peculiarly\ndangerous, because, owing to the interaction of our moral sentiments, and\nthe many transformations that each can undergo, there are few affections\nthat might not under some conceivable circumstances become the parents of\nevery other. When Hobbes, in the name of the philosophy of self-interest,\ncontended that \u201cPity is but the imagination of future calamity to\nourselves, produced by the sense of another man\u2019s calamity;\u201d(96) when\nHutcheson, in the name of the philosophy of benevolence, argued that the\nvice of intemperance is that it impels us to violence towards others, and\nweakens our capacity for doing them good;(97) when other moralists\ndefending the excellence of our nature maintained that compassion is so\nemphatically the highest of our pleasures that a desire of gratifying it\nis the cause of our acts of barbarity;(98) each of these theories,\nextravagant as it is, contains a germ of undoubted psychological truth. It\nis true that a mind intensely apprehensive of future calamities would on\nthat account receive a shock at the sight of the calamities of others. It\nis true that a very keen and absorbing sentiment of benevolence would be\nin itself sufficient to divert men from any habit that impaired their\npower of gratifying it. It is true that compassion involves a certain\namount of pleasure, and conceivable that that pleasure might be so\nintensified that we might seek it by a crime. The error in these theories\nis not that they exaggerate the possible efficacy of the motives, but that\nthey exaggerate their actual intensity in human nature and describe\nfalsely the process by which the results they seek to explain have been\narrived at. The function of observation in moral philosophy is not simply\nto attest the moral sentiments we possess, leaving it to the reason to\ndetermine deductively how they may have been formed; it is rather to\nfollow them through all the stages of their formation.\n\nAnd here I may observe that the term inductive, like most others that are\nemployed in moral philosophy, may give rise to serious misconception. It\nis properly applied to those moralists who, disbelieving the existence of\nany moral sense or faculty revealing to us what is right and wrong,\nmaintain that the origin of those ideas is simply our experience of the\ntendency of different lines of conduct to promote or impair true\nhappiness. It appears, however, to be sometimes imagined that inductive\nmoralists alone think that it is by induction or experience that we ought\nto ascertain what is the origin of our moral ideas. But this I conceive to\nbe a complete mistake. The basis of morals is a distinct question from the\nbasis of theories of morals. Those who maintain the existence of a moral\nfaculty do not, as is sometimes said, assume this proposition as a first\nprinciple of their arguments, but they arrive at it by a process of\ninduction quite as severe as any that can be employed by their\nopponents.(99) They examine, analyse, and classify their existing moral\nfeelings, ascertain in what respects those feelings agree with or differ\nfrom others, trace them through their various phases, and only assign them\nto a special faculty when they think they have shown them to be incapable\nof resolution, and generically different from all others.(100)\n\nThis separation is all that is meant by a moral faculty. We are apt to\nregard the term as implying a distinct and well defined organ, bearing to\nthe mind the same kind of relation as a limb to the body. But of the\nexistence of such organs, and of the propriety of such material imagery,\nwe know nothing. Perceiving in ourselves a will, and a crowd of\nintellectual and emotional phenomena that seem wholly different from the\nproperties of matter, we infer the existence of an immaterial substance\nwhich wills, thinks, and feels, and can classify its own operations with\nconsiderable precision. The term faculty is simply an expression of\nclassification. If we say that the moral faculty differs from the \u00e6sthetic\nfaculty, we can only mean that the mind forms certain judgments of moral\nexcellence, and also certain judgments of beauty, and that these two\nmental processes are clearly distinct. To ask to what part of our nature\nmoral perceptions should be attributed, is only to ask to what train of\nmental phenomena they bear the closest resemblance.\n\nIf this simple, but often neglected, consideration be borne in mind, the\napparent discordance of intuitive moralists will appear less profound than\nmight at first sight be supposed, for each section merely elucidates some\none characteristic of moral judgments. Thus Butler insists upon the sense\nof obligation that is involved in them, contends that this separates them\nfrom all other sentiments, and assigns them in consequence to a special\nfaculty of supreme authority called conscience. Adam Smith and many other\nwriters were especially struck by their sympathetic character. We are\nnaturally attracted by humanity, and repelled by cruelty, and this\ninstinctive, unreasoning sentiment constitutes, according to these\nmoralists, the difference between right and wrong. Cudworth, however, the\nEnglish precursor of Kant, had already anticipated, and later\nmetaphysicians have more fully exhibited, the inadequacy of such an\nanalysis. Justice, humanity, veracity, and kindred virtues not merely have\nthe power of attracting us, we have also an intellectual perception that\nthey are essentially and immutably good, that their nature does not depend\nupon, and is not relative to, our constitutions; that it is impossible and\ninconceivable they should ever be vices, and their opposites, virtues.\nThey are, therefore, it is said, intuitions of the reason. Clarke,\ndeveloping the same rational school, and following in the steps of those\nmoralists who regard our nature as a hierarchy of powers or faculties,\nwith different degrees of dignity, and an appropriate order of supremacy\nand subordination, maintained that virtue consisted in harmony with the\nnature of things. Wollaston endeavoured to reduce it to truth, and\nHutcheson to benevolence, which he maintained is recognised and approved\nby what his respect for the philosophy of Locke induced him to call \u201ca\nmoral sense,\u201d but what Shaftesbury had regarded as a moral \u201ctaste.\u201d The\npleasure attending the gratification of this taste, according to\nShaftesbury and Henry More, is the motive to virtue. The doctrine of a\nmoral sense or faculty was the basis of the ethics of Reid. Hume\nmaintained that the peculiar quality of virtue is its utility, but that\nour affections are purely disinterested, and that we arrive at our\nknowledge of what is virtuous by a moral sense implanted in our nature,\nwhich leads us instinctively to approve of all acts that are beneficial to\nothers. Expanding a pregnant hint which had been thrown out by Butler, he\nlaid the foundation for a union of the schools of Clarke and Shaftesbury,\nby urging that our moral decisions are not simple, but complex, containing\nboth a judgment of the reason, and an emotion of the heart. This fact has\nbeen elucidated still further by later writers, who have observed that\nthese two elements apply in varying degrees to different kinds of virtue.\nAccording to Lord Kames, our intellectual perception of right and wrong\napplies most strictly to virtues like justice or veracity, which are of\nwhat is called \u201cperfect obligation,\u201d or, in other words, are of such a\nnature, that their violation is a distinct crime, while the emotion of\nattraction or affection is shown most strongly towards virtues of\nimperfect obligation, like benevolence or charity. Like Hutcheson and\nShaftesbury, Lord Kames notices the analogies between our moral and\n\u00e6sthetical judgments.\n\nThese last analogies open out a region of thought widely different from\nthat we have been traversing. The close connection between the good and\nthe beautiful has been always felt, so much so, that both were in Greek\nexpressed by the same word, and in the philosophy of Plato, moral beauty\nwas regarded as the archetype of which all visible beauty is only the\nshadow or the image. We all feel that there is a strict propriety in the\nterm moral beauty. We feel that there are different forms of beauty which\nhave a natural correspondence to different moral qualities, and much of\nthe charm of poetry and eloquence rests upon this harmony. We feel that we\nhave a direct, immediate, intuitive perception that some objects, such as\nthe sky above us, are beautiful, that this perception of beauty is totally\ndifferent, and could not possibly be derived, from a perception of their\nutility, and that it bears a very striking resemblance to the\ninstantaneous and unreasoning admiration elicited by a generous or heroic\naction. We perceive too, if we examine with care the operations of our own\nmind, that an \u00e6sthetical judgment includes an intuition or intellectual\nperception, and an emotion of attraction or admiration, very similar to\nthose which compose a moral judgment. The very idea of beauty again\nimplies that it should be admired, as the idea of happiness implies that\nit should be desired, and the idea of duty that it should be performed.\nThere is also a striking correspondence between the degree and kind of\nuniformity we can in each case discover. That there is a difference\nbetween right and wrong, and between beauty and ugliness, are both\npropositions which are universally felt. That right is better than wrong,\nand beauty than ugliness, are equally unquestioned. When we go further,\nand attempt to define the nature of these qualities, we are met indeed by\ngreat diversities of detail, but by a far larger amount of substantial\nunity. Poems like the Iliad or the Psalms, springing in the most\ndissimilar quarters, have commanded the admiration of men, through all the\nchanges of some 3,000 years. The charm of music, the harmony of the female\ncountenance, the majesty of the starry sky, of the ocean or of the\nmountain, the gentler beauties of the murmuring stream or of the twilight\nshades, were felt, as they are felt now, when the imagination of the\ninfant world first embodied itself in written words. And in the same way\ntypes of heroism, and of virtue, descending from the remotest ages,\ncommand the admiration of mankind. We can sympathise with the emotions of\npraise or blame revealed in the earliest historians, and the most ancient\nmoralists strike a responsive chord in every heart. The broad lines remain\nunchanged. No one ever contended that justice was a vice or injustice a\nvirtue; or that a summer sunset was a repulsive object, or that the sores\nupon a human body were beautiful. Always, too, the objects of \u00e6sthetical\nadmiration were divided into two great classes, the sublime and the\nbeautiful, which in ethics have their manifest counterparts in the heroic\nand the amiable.\n\nIf, again, we examine the undoubted diversities that exist in judgments of\nvirtue and of beauty, we soon discover that in each case a large\nproportion of them are to be ascribed to the different degrees of\ncivilisation. The moral standard changes within certain limits, and\naccording to a regular process with the evolutions of society. There are\nvirtues very highly estimated in a rude civilisation which sink into\ncomparative insignificance in an organised society, while conversely,\nvirtues that were deemed secondary in the first become primary in the\nother. There are even virtues that it is impossible for any but highly\ncultivated minds to recognise. Questions of virtue and vice, such as the\ndifference between humanity and barbarity, or between temperance and\nintemperance, are sometimes merely questions of degree, and the standard\nat one stage of civilisation may be much higher than at another. Just in\nthe same way a steady modification of tastes, while a recognition of the\nbroad features of beauty remains unchanged, accompanies advancing\ncivilisation. The preference of gaudy to subdued tints, of colour to form,\nof a florid to a chaste style, of convulsive attitudes, gigantic figures,\nand strong emotions, may be looked for with considerable confidence in an\nuninstructed people. The refining influence of cultivation is in no sphere\nmore remarkable than in the canons of taste it produces, and there are few\nbetter measures of the civilisation of a people than the conceptions of\nbeauty it forms, the type or ideal it endeavours to realise.\n\nMany diversities, however, both of moral and \u00e6sthetical judgments, may be\ntraced to accidental causes. Some one who is greatly admired, or who\npossesses great influence, is distinguished by some peculiarity of\nappearance, or introduces some peculiarity of dress. He will soon find\ncountless imitators. Gradually the natural sense of beauty will become\nvitiated; the eye and the taste will adjust themselves to a false and\nartificial standard, and men will at last judge according to it with the\nmost absolute spontaneity. In the same way, if any accidental circumstance\nhas elevated an indifferent action to peculiar honour, if a religious\nsystem enforces it as a virtue or brands it as a vice, the consciences of\nmen will after a time accommodate themselves to the sentence, and an\nappeal to a wider than a local tribunal is necessary to correct the error.\nEvery nation, again, from its peculiar circumstances and position, tends\nto some particular type, both of beauty and of virtue, and it naturally\nextols its national type beyond all others. The virtues of a small poor\nnation, living among barren mountains, surrounded by powerful enemies, and\nmaintaining its independence only by the most inflexible discipline,\nwatchfulness, and courage, will be in some degree different from those of\na rich people removed from all fear of invasion and placed in the centre\nof commerce. The former will look with a very lenient eye on acts of\nbarbarity or treachery, which to the latter would appear unspeakably\nhorrible, and will value very highly certain virtues of discipline which\nthe other will comparatively neglect. So, too, the conceptions of beauty\nformed by a nation of negroes will be different from those formed by a\nnation of whites;(101) the splendour of a tropical sky or the savage\ngrandeur of a northern ocean, the aspect of great mountains or of wide\nplains, will not only supply nations with present images of sublimity or\nbeauty, but will also contribute to form their standard and affect their\njudgments. Local customs or observances become so interwoven with our\nearliest recollections, that we at last regard them as essentially\nvenerable, and even in the most trivial matters it requires a certain\neffort to dissolve the association. There was much wisdom as well as much\nwit in the picture of the novelist who described the English footman\u2019s\ncontempt for the uniforms of the French, \u201cblue being altogether ridiculous\nfor regimentals, except in the blue guards and artillery;\u201d and I suppose\nthere are few Englishmen into whose first confused impression of France\nthere does not enter a half-instinctive feeling of repugnance caused by\nthe ferocious appearance of a peasantry who are all dressed like\nbutchers.(102)\n\nIt has been said(103) that \u201cthe feelings of beauty, grandeur, and whatever\nelse is comprehended under the name of taste, do not lead to action, but\nterminate in delightful contemplation, which constitutes the essential\ndistinction between them and the moral sentiments to which in some points\nof view they may doubtless be likened.\u201d This position I conceive to be\naltogether untenable. Our \u00e6sthetical judgment is of the nature of a\npreference. It leads us to prefer one class of objects to another, and\nwhenever other things are equal, becomes a ground for action. In choosing\nthe persons with whom we live, the neighbourhood we inhabit, the objects\nthat surround us, we prefer that which is beautiful to that which is the\nreverse, and in every case in which a choice between beauty and deformity\nis in question, and no counteracting motive intervenes, we choose the\nformer, and avoid the latter. There are no doubt innumerable events in\nlife in which this question does not arise, but there are also very many\nin which we are not called upon to make a moral judgment. We say a man is\nactuated by strong moral principle who chooses according to its dictates\nin every case involving a moral judgment that comes naturally before him,\nand who in obedience to its impulse pursues special courses of action.\nCorresponding propositions may be maintained with perfect truth concerning\nour sense of beauty. In proportion to its strength does it guide our\ncourse in ordinary life, and determine our peculiar pursuits. We may\nindeed sacrifice our sense of material beauty to considerations of utility\nwith much more alacrity than our sense of moral beauty; we may consent to\nbuild a shapeless house sooner than to commit a dishonourable action, but\nwe cannot voluntarily choose that which is simply deformed, rather than\nthat which is beautiful, without a certain feeling of pain, and a pain of\nthis kind, according to the school of Hartley, is the precise definition\nof conscience. Nor is it at all difficult to conceive men with a sense of\nbeauty so strong that they would die rather than outrage it.\n\nConsidering all these things, it is not surprising that many moralists\nshould have regarded moral excellence as simply the highest form of\nbeauty, and moral cultivation as the supreme refinement of taste. But\nalthough this manner of regarding it is, as I think, far more plausible\nthan the theory which resolves virtue into utility, although the Greek\nmoralists and the school of Shaftesbury have abundantly proved that there\nis an extremely close connection between these orders of ideas, there are\ntwo considerations which appear to show the inadequacy of this theory. We\nare clearly conscious of the propriety of applying the epithet \u201cbeautiful\u201d\nto virtues such as charity, reverence, or devotion, but we cannot apply it\nwith the same propriety to duties of perfect obligation, such as veracity\nor integrity. The sense of beauty and the affection that follows it attach\nthemselves rather to modes of enthusiasm and feeling than to the course of\nsimple duty which constitutes a merely truthful and upright man.(104)\nBesides this, as the Stoics and Butler have shown, the position of\nconscience in our nature is wholly unique, and clearly separates morals\nfrom a study of the beautiful. While each of our senses or appetites has a\nrestricted sphere of operation, it is the function of conscience to survey\nthe whole constitution of our being, and assign limits to the\ngratification of all our various passions and desires. Differing not in\ndegree, but in kind from the other principles of our nature, we feel that\na course of conduct which is opposed to it may be intelligibly described\nas unnatural, even when in accordance with our most natural appetites, for\nto conscience is assigned the prerogative of both judging and restraining\nthem all. Its power may be insignificant, but its title is undisputed, and\n\u201cif it had might as it has right, it would govern the world.\u201d(105) It is\nthis faculty, distinct from, and superior to, all appetites, passions, and\ntastes, that makes virtue the supreme law of life, and adds an imperative\ncharacter to the feeling of attraction it inspires. It is this which was\ndescribed by Cicero as the God ruling within us; by the Stoics as the\nsovereignty of reason; by St. Paul as the law of nature; by Butler as the\nsupremacy of conscience.\n\nThe distinction of different parts of our nature, as higher or lower,\nwhich appears in the foregoing reasoning, and which occupies so important\na place in the intuitive system of morals, is one that can only be\ndefended by the way of illustrations. A writer can only select cases in\nwhich such distinctions seem most apparent, and leave them to the feelings\nof his reader. A few examples will, I hope, be sufficient to show that\neven in our pleasures, we are not simply determined by the amount of\nenjoyment, but that there is a difference of kind, which may be reasonably\ndescribed by the epithets, higher or lower.\n\nIf we suppose a being from another sphere, who derived his conceptions\nfrom a purely rational process, without the intervention of the senses, to\ndescend to our world, and to enquire into the principles of human nature,\nI imagine there are few points that would strike him as more anomalous, or\nwhich he would be more absolutely unable to realise, than the different\nestimates in which men hold the pleasures derived from the two senses of\ntasting and hearing. Under the first is comprised the enjoyment resulting\nfrom the action of certain kinds of food upon the palate. Under the second\nthe charm of music. Each of these forms of pleasure is natural, each can\nbe greatly heightened by cultivation, in each case the pleasure may be\nvivid, but is very transient, and in neither case do evil consequences\nnecessarily ensue. Yet with so many undoubted points of resemblance, when\nwe turn to the actual world, we find the difference between these two\norders of pleasure of such a nature, that a comparison seems absolutely\nludicrous. In what then does this difference consist? Not, surely, in the\ngreater intensity of the enjoyment derived from music, for in many cases\nthis superiority does not exist.(106) We are all conscious that in our\ncomparison of these pleasures, there is an element distinct from any\nconsideration of their intensity, duration, or consequences. We naturally\nattach a faint notion of shame to the one, while we as naturally glory in\nthe other. A very keen sense of the pleasures of the palate is looked upon\nas in a certain degree discreditable. A man will hardly boast that he is\nvery fond of eating, but he has no hesitation in acknowledging that he is\nvery fond of music. The first taste lowers, and the second elevates him in\nhis own eyes, and in those of his neighbours.\n\nAgain, let a man of cheerful disposition, and of a cultivated but not very\nfastidious taste, observe his own emotions and the countenances of those\naround him during the representation of a clever tragedy and of a clever\nfarce, and it is probable that he will come to the conclusion that his\nenjoyment in the latter case has been both more unmingled and more intense\nthan in the former. He has felt no lassitude, he has not endured the\namount of pain that necessarily accompanies the pleasure of pathos, he has\nexperienced a vivid, absorbing pleasure, and he has traced similar\nemotions in the violent demonstrations of his neighbours. Yet he will\nreadily admit that the pleasure derived from the tragedy is of a higher\norder than that derived from the farce. Sometimes he will find himself\nhesitating which of the two he will choose. The love of mere enjoyment\nleads him to the one. A sense of its _nobler_ character inclines him to\nthe other.\n\nA similar distinction may be observed in other departments. Except in the\nrelation of the sexes, it is probable that a more intense pleasure is\nusually obtained from the grotesque and the eccentric, than from the\nperfections of beauty. The pleasure derived from beauty is not violent in\nits nature, and it is in most cases peculiarly mixed with melancholy. The\nfeelings of a man who is deeply moved by a lovely landscape are rarely\nthose of extreme elation. A shade of melancholy steals over his mind. His\neyes fill with tears. A vague and unsatisfied longing fills his soul. Yet,\ntroubled and broken as is this form of enjoyment, few persons would\nhesitate to pronounce it of a higher kind than any that can be derived\nfrom the exhibitions of oddity.\n\nIf pleasures were the sole objects of our pursuit, and if their excellence\nwere measured only by the quantity of enjoyment they afford, nothing could\nappear more obvious than that the man would be esteemed most wise who\nattained his object at least cost. Yet the whole course of civilisation is\nin a precisely opposite direction. A child derives the keenest and most\nexquisite enjoyment from the simplest objects. A flower, a doll, a rude\ngame, the least artistic tale, is sufficient to enchant it. An uneducated\npeasant is enraptured with the wildest story and the coarsest wit.\nIncreased cultivation almost always produces a fastidiousness which\nrenders necessary the increased elaboration of our pleasures. We attach a\ncertain discredit to a man who has retained those of childhood. The very\nfact of our deriving pleasure from certain amusements creates a kind of\nhumiliation, for we feel that they are not in harmony with the nobility of\nour nature.(107)\n\nOur judgments of societies resemble in this respect our judgments of\nindividuals. Few persons, I think, who have compared the modes of popular\nlife in stagnant and undeveloped countries like Spain with those in the\ngreat centres of industrial civilisation, will venture to pronounce with\nany confidence that the quantum or average of actual realised enjoyment is\ngreater in the civilised than in the semi-civilised society. An\nundeveloped nature is by no means necessarily an unhappy nature, and\nalthough we possess no accurate gauge of happiness, we may, at least, be\ncertain that its degrees do not coincide with the degrees of prosperity.\nThe tastes and habits of men in a backward society accommodate themselves\nto the narrow circle of a few pleasures, and probably find in these as\ncomplete satisfaction as more civilised men in a wider range; and if there\nis in the first condition somewhat more of the weariness of monotony,\nthere is in the second much more of the anxiety of discontent. The\nsuperiority of a highly civilised man lies chiefly in the fact that he\nbelongs to a higher order of being, for he has approached more nearly to\nthe end of his existence, and has called into action a larger number of\nhis capacities. And this is in itself an end. Even if, as is not\nimprobable, the lower animals are happier than man,(108) and\nsemi-barbarians than civilised men, still it is better to be a man than a\nbrute, better to be born amid the fierce struggles of civilisation than in\nsome stranded nation apart from all the flow of enterprise and knowledge.\nEven in that material civilisation which utilitarianism delights to\nglorify, there is an element which the philosophy of mere enjoyment cannot\nexplain.\n\nAgain, if we ask the reason of the vast and indisputable superiority which\nthe general voice of mankind gives to mental pleasures, considered as\npleasures, over physical ones, we shall find, I think, no adequate or\nsatisfactory answer on the supposition that pleasures owe all their value\nto the quantity of enjoyment they afford. The former, it is truly said,\nare more varied and more prolonged than the latter but on the other hand,\nthey are attained with more effort, and they are diffused over a far\nnarrower circle. No one who compares the class of men who derive their\npleasure chiefly from field sports or other forms of physical enjoyment\nwith those who derive their pleasure from the highest intellectual\nsources; no one who compares the period of boyhood when enjoyments are\nchiefly animal with early manhood when they are chiefly intellectual, will\nbe able to discover in the different levels of happiness any justification\nof the great interval the world places between these pleasures. No painter\nor novelist, who wished to depict an ideal of perfect happiness, would\nseek it in a profound student. Without entering into any doubtful\nquestions concerning the relations of the body to all mental states, it\nmay be maintained that bodily conditions have in general more influence\nupon our enjoyment than mental ones. The happiness of the great majority\nof men is far more affected by health and by temperament,(109) resulting\nfrom physical conditions, which again physical enjoyments are often\ncalculated to produce, than by any mental or moral causes, and acute\nphysical sufferings paralyse all the energies of our nature to a greater\nextent than any mental distress. It is probable that the American inventor\nof the first an\u00e6sthetic has done more for the real happiness of mankind\nthan all the moral philosophers from Socrates to Mill. Moral causes may\nteach men patience, and the endurance of felt suffering, or may even\nalleviate its pangs, but there are temperaments due to physical causes\nfrom which most sufferings glance almost unfelt. It is said that when an\nancient was asked \u201cwhat use is philosophy?\u201d he answered, \u201cit teaches men\nhow to die,\u201d and he verified his words by a noble death; but it has been\nproved on a thousand battle-fields, it has been proved on a thousand\nscaffolds, it is proved through all the wide regions of China and India,\nthat the dull and animal nature which feels little and realises faintly,\ncan meet death with a calm that philosophy can barely rival.(110) The\ntruth is, that the mental part of our nature is not regarded as superior\nto the physical part, because it contributes most to our happiness. The\nsuperiority is of a different kind, and may be intelligibly expressed by\nthe epithets higher and lower.\n\nAnd, once more, there is a class of pleasures resulting from the\ngratification of our moral feelings which we naturally place in the\nforemost rank. To the great majority of mankind it will probably appear,\nin spite of the doctrine of Paley, that no multiple of the pleasure of\neating pastry can be an equivalent to the pleasure derived from a generous\naction. It is not that the latter is so inconceivably intense. It is that\nit is of a higher order.\n\nThis distinction of kind has been neglected or denied by most utilitarian\nwriters;(111) and although an attempt has recently been made to introduce\nit into the system, it appears manifestly incompatible with its principle.\nIf the reality of the distinction be admitted, it shows that our wills are\nso far from tending necessarily to that which produces most enjoyment that\nwe have the power even in our pleasures of recognising a higher and a\nwholly different quality, and of making that quality rather than enjoyment\nthe object of our choice. If it be possible for a man in choosing between\ntwo pleasures deliberately to select as preferable, apart from all\nconsideration of consequences, that which he is conscious gives least\nenjoyment because he recognises in it a greater worthiness, or elevation,\nit is certain that his conduct is either wholly irrational, or that he is\nacting on a principle of judgment for which \u2019the greatest happiness\u2019\nphilosophy is unable to account. Consistently with that philosophy, the\nterms higher and lower as applied to different parts of our nature, to\ndifferent regions of thought or feeling, can have no other meaning than\nthat of productive of more or less enjoyment. But if once we admit a\ndistinction of quality as well as a distinction of quantity in our\nestimate of pleasure, all is changed. It then appears evident that the\ndifferent parts of our nature to which these pleasures refer, bear to each\nother a relation of another kind, which may be clearly and justly\ndescribed by the terms higher and lower; and the assertion that our reason\nreveals to us intuitively and directly this hierarchy of our being, is a\nfundamental position of the greatest schools of intuitive moralists.\nAccording to these writers, when we say that our moral and intellectual is\nsuperior to our animal nature, that the benevolent affections are superior\nto the selfish ones, that conscience has a legitimate supremacy over the\nother parts of our being; this language is not arbitrary, or fantastic, or\ncapricious, because it is intelligible. When such a subordination is\nannounced, it corresponds with feelings we all possess, falls in with the\nnatural course of our judgments, with our habitual and unstudied language.\n\nThe arguments that have been directed against the theory of natural moral\nperceptions are of two kinds, the first, which I have already noticed,\nbeing designed to show that all our moral judgments may be resolved into\nconsiderations of utility; the second resting upon the diversity of these\njudgments in different nations and stages of civilisation, which, it is\nsaid, is altogether inexplicable upon the supposition of a moral faculty.\nAs these variations form the great stumbling-block in the way of the\ndoctrine I am maintaining, and as they constitute a very important part of\nthe history of morals, I shall make no apology for noticing them in some\ndetail.\n\nIn the first place, there are many cases in which diversities of moral\njudgment arise from causes that are not moral, but purely intellectual.\nThus, for example, when theologians pronounced loans at interest contrary\nto the law of nature and plainly extortionate, this error obviously arose\nfrom a false notion of the uses of money. They believed that it was a\nsterile thing, and that he who has restored what he borrowed, has\ncancelled all the benefit he received from the transaction. At the time\nwhen the first Christian moralists treated the subject, special\ncircumstances had rendered the rate of interest extremely high, and\nconsequently extremely oppressive to the poor, and this fact, no doubt,\nstrengthened the prejudice; but the root of the condemnation of usury was\nsimply an error in political economy. When men came to understand that\nmoney is a productive thing, and that the sum lent enables the borrower to\ncreate sources of wealth that will continue when the loan has been\nreturned, they perceived that there was no natural injustice in exacting\npayment for this advantage, and usury either ceased to be assailed, or was\nassailed only upon the ground of positive commands.\n\nThus again the question of the criminality of abortion has been\nconsiderably affected by physiological speculations as to the time when\nthe f\u0153tus in the womb acquires the nature, and therefore the rights, of a\nseparate being. The general opinion among the ancients seems to have been\nthat it was but a part of the mother, and that she had the same right to\ndestroy it as to cauterise a tumour upon her body. Plato and Aristotle\nboth admitted the practice. The Roman law contained no enactment against\nvoluntary abortion till the time of Ulpian. The Stoics thought that the\ninfant received its soul when respiration began. The Justinian code fixed\nits animation at forty days after conception. In modern legislations it is\ntreated as a distinct being from the moment of conception.(112) It is\nobvious that the solution of such questions, though affecting our moral\njudgments, must be sought entirely outside the range of moral feelings.\n\nIn the next place, there is a broad distinction to be drawn between duties\nwhich rest immediately on the dictates of conscience, and those which are\nbased upon positive commands. The iniquity of theft, murder, falsehood, or\nadultery rests upon grounds generically distinct from those on which men\npronounce it to be sinful to eat meat on Friday, or to work on Sunday, or\nto abstain from religious assemblies. The reproaches conscience directs\nagainst those who are guilty of these last acts are purely hypothetical,\nconscience enjoining obedience to the Divine commands, but leaving it to\nreason to determine what those commands may be. The distinction between\nthese two classes of duties becomes apparent on the slightest reflection,\nand the variations in their relative prominence form one of the most\nimportant branches of religious history.\n\nClosely connected with the preceding are the diversities which result from\nan ancient custom becoming at last, through its very antiquity, or through\nthe confusion of means with ends, an object of religious reverence. Among\nthe many safeguards of female purity in the Roman republic was an\nenactment forbidding women even to taste wine, and this very intelligible\nlaw being enforced with the earliest education, became at last, by habit\nand traditionary reverence, so incorporated with the moral feelings of the\npeople, that its violation was spoken of as a monstrous crime. Aulus\nGellius has preserved a passage in which Cato observes, \u201cthat the husband\nhas an absolute authority over his wife; it is for him to condemn and\npunish her, if she has been guilty of any shameful act, such as drinking\nwine or committing adultery.\u201d(113) As soon as the reverence for tradition\nwas diminished, and men ventured to judge old customs upon their own\nmerits, they were able, by steadily reflecting upon this belief, to reduce\nit to its primitive elements, to separate the act from the ideas with\nwhich it had been associated, and thus to perceive that it was not\nnecessarily opposed to any of those great moral laws or feelings which\ntheir consciences revealed, and which were the basis of all their\nreasonings on morals.\n\nA confused association of ideas, which is easily exposed by a patient\nanalysis, lies at the root of more serious anomalies. Thus to those who\nreflect deeply upon moral history, few things, I suppose, are more\nhumiliating than to contrast the admiration and profoundly reverential\nattachment excited by a conqueror, who through the promptings of simple\nvanity, through love of fame, or through greed of territory, has wantonly\ncaused the deaths, the sufferings, or the bereavements of thousands, with\nthe abhorrence produced by a single act of murder or robbery committed by\na poor and ignorant man, perhaps under the pressure of extreme want or\nintolerable wrong. The attraction of genius and power, which the vulgar\nusually measure by their material fruits, the advantages acquired by the\nnation to which he belongs, the belief that battles are decided by\nprovidential interference, and that military success is therefore a proof\nof Divine favour, and the sanctity ascribed to the regal office, have all\nno doubt conspired to veil the atrocity of the conqueror\u2019s career; but\nthere is probably another and a deeper influence behind. That which\ninvests war, in spite of all the evils that attend it, with a certain\nmoral grandeur, is the heroic self-sacrifice it elicits. With perhaps the\nsingle exception of the Church, it is the sphere in which mercenary\nmotives have least sway, in which performance is least weighed and\nmeasured by strict obligation, in which a disinterested enthusiasm has\nmost scope. A battle-field is the scene of deeds of self-sacrifice so\ntranscendent, and at the same time so dramatic, that in spite of all its\nhorrors and crimes, it awakens the most passionate moral enthusiasm. But\nthis feeling produced by the thought of so many who have sacrificed their\nlife-blood for their flag or for their chief, needs some definite object\non which to rest. The multitude of nameless combatants do not strike the\nimagination. They do not stand out, and are not realised, as distinct and\nliving figures conspicuous to the view. Hence it is that the chief, as the\nmost prominent, becomes the representative warrior; the martyr\u2019s aureole\ndescends upon his brow, and thus by a confusion that seems the very irony\nof fate, the enthusiasm evoked by the self-sacrifice of thousands sheds a\nsacred glow around the very man whose prodigious egotism had rendered that\nsacrifice necessary.\n\nAnother form of moral paradox is derived from the fact that positive\nreligions may override our moral perceptions in such a manner, that we may\nconsciously admit a moral contradiction. In this respect there is a strict\nparallelism between our intellectual and our moral faculties. It is at\npresent the professed belief of at least three-fourths of the Christian\nChurch, and was for some centuries the firm belief of the entire Church,\nthat on a certain night the Founder of the Christian faith, being seated\nat a supper table, held His own body in His own hand, broke that body,\ndistributed it to His disciples, who proceeded to eat it, the same body\nremaining at the same moment seated intact at the table, and soon\nafterwards proceeding to the garden of Gethsemane. The fact of such a\ndoctrine being believed, does not imply that the faculties of those who\nhold it are of such a nature that they perceive no contradiction or\nnatural absurdity in these statements. The well-known argument derived\nfrom the obscurity of the metaphysical notion of substance is intended\nonly in some slight degree to soften the difficulty. The contradiction is\nclearly perceived, but it is accepted by faith as part of the teaching of\nthe Church.\n\nWhat transubstantiation is in the order of reason the Augustinian doctrine\nof the damnation of unbaptised infants, and the Calvinistic doctrine of\nreprobation, are in the order of morals. Of these doctrines it is not too\nmuch to say, that in the form in which they have often been stated, they\nsurpass in atrocity any tenets that have ever been admitted into any pagan\ncreed, and would, if they formed an essential part of Christianity, amply\njustify the term \u201cpernicious superstition,\u201d which Tacitus applied to the\nfaith. That a little child who lives but a few moments after birth and\ndies before it has been sprinkled with the sacred water is in such a sense\nresponsible for its ancestors having 6,000 years before eaten some\nforbidden fruit that it may with perfect justice be resuscitated and cast\ninto an abyss of eternal fire in expiation of this ancestral crime, that\nan all-righteous and all-merciful Creator in the full exercise of those\nattributes deliberately calls into existence sentient beings whom He has\nfrom eternity irrevocably destined to endless, unspeakable, unmitigated\ntorture, are propositions which are at once so extravagantly absurd and so\nineffably atrocious that their adoption might well lead men to doubt the\nuniversality of moral perceptions. Such teaching is in fact simply\nd\u00e6monism, and d\u00e6monism in its most extreme form. It attributes to the\nCreator acts of injustice and of barbarity, which it would be absolutely\nimpossible for the imagination to surpass, acts before which the most\nmonstrous excesses of human cruelty dwindle into insignificance, acts\nwhich are in fact considerably worse than any that theologians have\nattributed to the devil. If there were men who while vividly realising the\nnature of these acts naturally turned to them as the exhibitions of\nperfect goodness, all systems of ethics founded upon innate moral\nperceptions would be false. But happily this is not so. Those who embrace\nthese doctrines do so only because they believe that some inspired Church\nor writer has taught them, and because they are still in that stage in\nwhich men consider it more irreligious to question the infallibility of an\napostle than to disfigure by any conceivable imputation the character of\nthe Deity. They accordingly esteem it a matter of duty, and a commendable\nexercise of humility, to stifle the moral feelings of their nature, and\nthey at last succeed in persuading themselves that their Divinity would be\nextremely offended if they hesitated to ascribe to him the attributes of a\nfiend. But their moral feelings, though not unimpaired by such\nconceptions, are not on ordinary subjects generically different from those\nof their neighbours. With an amiable inconsistency they can even find\nsomething to revolt them in the lives of a Caligula or a Nero. Their\ntheological estimate of justice and mercy is isolated. Their doctrine is\naccepted as a kind of moral miracle, and as is customary with a certain\nschool of theologians, when they enunciate a proposition which is palpably\nself-contradictory they call it a mystery and an occasion for faith.\n\nIn this instance a distinct moral contradiction is consciously admitted.\nIn the case of persecution, a strictly moral and logical inference is\ndrawn from a very immoral proposition which is accepted as part of a\nsystem of dogmatic theology. The two elements that should be considered in\npunishing a criminal are the heinousness of his guilt and the injury he\ninflicts. When the greatest guilt and the greatest injury are combined,\nthe greatest punishment naturally follows. No one would argue against the\nexistence of a moral faculty, on the ground that men put murderers to\ndeath. When therefore theologians believed that a man was intensely guilty\nwho held certain opinions, and that he was causing the damnation of his\nfellows if he propagated them, there was no moral difficulty in concluding\nthat the heretic should be put to death. Selfish considerations may have\ndirected persecution against heresy rather than against vice, but the\nCatholic doctrines of the guilt of error, and of the infallibility of the\nChurch, were amply sufficient to justify it.\n\nIt appears then that a dogmatic system which is accepted on rational or\nother grounds, and supported by prospects of rewards and punishments, may\nteach a code of ethics differing from that of conscience; and that in this\ncase the voice of conscience may be either disregarded or stifled. It is\nhowever also true, that it may be perverted. When, for example,\ntheologians during a long period have inculcated habits of credulity,\nrather than habits of enquiry; when they have persuaded men that it is\nbetter to cherish prejudice than to analyse it; better to stifle every\ndoubt of what they have been taught than honestly to investigate its\nvalue, they will at last succeed in forming habits of mind that will\ninstinctively and habitually recoil from all impartiality and intellectual\nhonesty. If men continually violate a duty they may at last cease to feel\nits obligation. But this, though it forms a great difficulty in ethical\nenquiries, is no argument against the reality of moral perceptions, for it\nis simply a law to which all our powers are subject. A bad intellectual\neducation will produce not only erroneous or imperfect information but\nalso a false ply or habit of judgment. A bad \u00e6sthetical education will\nproduce false canons of taste. Systematic abuse will pervert and vitiate\neven some of our physical perceptions. In each case the experience of many\nminds under many conditions must be appealed to, to determine the standard\nof right and wrong, and long and difficult discipline is required to\nrestore the diseased organ to sanity. We may decide particular moral\nquestions by reasoning, but our reasoning is an appeal to certain moral\nprinciples which are revealed to us by intuition.\n\nThe principal difficulty I imagine which most men have in admitting that\nwe possess certain natural moral perceptions arises from the supposition\nthat it implies the existence of some mysterious agent like the d\u00e6mon of\nSocrates, which gives us specific and infallible information in particular\ncases. But this I conceive to be a complete mistake. All that is\nnecessarily meant by the adherents of this school is comprised in two\npropositions. The first is that our will is not governed exclusively by\nthe law of pleasure and pain, but also by the law of duty, which we feel\nto be distinct from the former, and to carry with it the sense of\nobligation. The second is that the basis of our conception of duty is an\nintuitive perception that among the various feelings, tendencies, and\nimpulses that constitute our emotional being, there are some which are\nessentially good, and ought to be encouraged, and some which are\nessentially bad, and ought to be repressed. They contend that it is a\npsychological fact that we are intuitively conscious that our benevolent\naffections are superior to our malevolent ones, truth to falsehood,\njustice to injustice, gratitude to ingratitude, chastity to sensuality,\nand that in all ages and countries the path of virtue has been towards the\nhigher and not towards the lower feelings. It may be that the sense of\nduty is so weak as to be scarcely perceptible, and then the lower part of\nour nature will be supreme. It may happen that certain conditions of\nsociety lead men to direct their anxiety for moral improvement altogether\nin one or two channels, as was the case in ancient Greece, where civic and\nintellectual virtues were very highly cultivated, and the virtue of\nchastity was almost neglected. It may happen that different parts of our\nhigher nature in a measure conflict, as when a very strong sense of\njustice checks our benevolent feelings. Dogmatic systems may enjoin men to\npropitiate certain unseen beings by acts which are not in accordance with\nthe moral law. Special circumstances may influence, and the intermingling\nof many different motives may obscure and complicate, the moral evolution;\nbut above all these one great truth appears. No one who desires to become\nholier and better imagines that he does so by becoming more malevolent, or\nmore untruthful, or more unchaste. Every one who desires to attain\nperfection in these departments of feeling is impelled towards\nbenevolence, towards veracity, towards chastity.(114)\n\nNow it is manifest that according to this theory the moral unity to be\nexpected in different ages is not a unity of standard, or of acts, but a\nunity of tendency. Men come into the world with their benevolent\naffections very inferior in power to their selfish ones, and the function\nof morals is to invert this order. The extinction of all selfish feeling\nis impossible for an individual, and if it were general, it would result\nin the dissolution of society. The question of morals must always be a\nquestion of proportion or of degree. At one time the benevolent affections\nembrace merely the family, soon the circle expanding includes first a\nclass, then a nation, then a coalition of nations, then all humanity, and\nfinally, its influence is felt in the dealings of man with the animal\nworld. In each of these stages a standard is formed, different from that\nof the preceding stage, but in each case the same tendency is recognised\nas virtue.\n\nWe have in this fact a simple, and as it appears to me a conclusive,\nanswer to the overwhelming majority of the objections that are continually\nand confidently urged against the intuitive school. That some savages kill\ntheir old parents, that infanticide has been practised without compunction\nby even civilised nations, that the best Romans saw nothing wrong in the\ngladiatorial shows, that political or revengeful assassinations have been\nfor centuries admitted, that slavery has been sometimes honoured and\nsometimes condemned, are unquestionable proofs that the same act may be\nregarded in one age as innocent, and in another as criminal. Now it is\nundoubtedly true that in many cases an historical examination will reveal\nspecial circumstances, explaining or palliating the apparent anomaly. It\nhas been often shown that the gladiatorial shows were originally a form of\nhuman sacrifice adopted through religious motives; that the rude nomadic\nlife of savages rendering impossible the preservation of aged and helpless\nmembers of the tribe, the murder of parents was regarded as an act of\nmercy both by the murderer and the victim; that before an effective\nadministration of justice was organised, private vengeance was the sole\npreservative against crime,(115) and political assassination against\nusurpation; that the insensibility of some savages to the criminality of\ntheft arises from the fact that they were accustomed to have all things in\ncommon; that the Spartan law, legalising theft, arose partly from a desire\nto foster military dexterity among the people, but chiefly from a desire\nto discourage wealth; that slavery was introduced through motives of\nmercy, to prevent conquerors from killing their prisoners.(116) All this\nis true, but there is another and a more general answer. It is not to be\nexpected, and it is not maintained, that men in all ages should have\nagreed about the application of their moral principles. All that is\ncontended for is that these principles are themselves the same. Some of\nwhat appear to us monstrous acts of cruelty, were dictated by that very\nfeeling of humanity, the universal perception of the merit of which they\nare cited to disprove,(117) and even when this is not the case, all that\ncan be inferred is, that the standard of humanity was very low. But still\nhumanity was recognised as a virtue, and cruelty as a vice.\n\nAt this point, I may observe how completely fallacious is the assertion\nthat a progressive morality is impossible upon the supposition of an\noriginal moral faculty.(118) To such statements there are two very simple\nanswers. In the first place, although the intuitive moralist asserts that\ncertain qualities are necessarily virtuous, he fully admits that the\ndegree in which they are acted upon, or in other words, the standard of\nduty, may become progressively higher. In the next place, although he\nrefuses to resolve all virtue into utility, he admits as fully as his\nopponents, that benevolence, or the promotion of the happiness of man, is\na virtue, and that therefore discoveries which exhibit more clearly the\ntrue interests of our kind, may throw new light upon the nature of our\nduty.\n\nThe considerations I have urged with reference to humanity, apply with\nequal force to the various relations of the sexes. When the passions of\nmen are altogether unrestrained, community of wives and all eccentric\nforms of sensuality will be admitted. When men seek to improve their\nnature in this respect, their object will be to abridge and confine the\nempire of sensuality. But to this process of improvement there are obvious\nlimits. In the first place the continuance of the species is only possible\nby a sensual act. In the next place the strength of this passion and the\nweakness of humanity are so great, that the moralist must take into\naccount the fact that in all societies, and especially in those in which\nfree scope had long been given to the passions, a large amount of\nindulgence will arise which is not due to a simple desire of propagating\nthe species. If then incest is prohibited, and community of wives replaced\nby ordinary polygamy, a moral improvement will have been effected, and a\nstandard of virtue formed. But this standard soon becomes the\nstarting-point of new progress. If we examine the Jewish law, we find the\nlegislator prohibiting adultery, regulating the degrees of marriage, but\nat the same time authorising polygamy, though with a caution against the\nexcessive multiplication of wives. In Greece monogamy, though not without\nexceptions, had been enforced, but a concurrence of unfavourable\ninfluences prevented any high standard being attained among the men, and\nin their case almost every form of indulgence beyond the limits of\nmarriage was permitted. In Rome the standard was far higher. Monogamy was\nfirmly established. The ideal of female morality was placed as high as\namong Christian nations. Among men, however, while unnatural love and\nadultery were regarded as wrong, simple unchastity before marriage was\nscarcely considered a fault. In Catholicism marriage is regarded in a\ntwofold light, as a means for the propagation of the species, and as a\nconcession to the weakness of humanity, and all other sensual enjoyment is\nstringently prohibited.\n\nIn these cases there is a great difference between the degrees of\nearnestness with which men exert themselves in the repression of their\npassions, and in the amount of indulgence which is conceded to their lower\nnature;(119) but there is no difference in the direction of the virtuous\nimpulse. While, too, in the case of adultery, and in the production of\nchildren, questions of interest and utility do undoubtedly intervene, we\nare conscious that the general progress turns upon a totally different\norder of ideas. The feeling of all men and the language of all nations,\nthe sentiment which though often weakened is never wholly effaced, that\nthis appetite, even in its most legitimate gratification, is a thing to be\nveiled and withdrawn from sight, all that is known under the names of\ndecency and indecency, concur in proving that we have an innate,\nintuitive, instinctive perception that there is something degrading in the\nsensual part of our nature, something to which a feeling of shame is\nnaturally attached, something that jars with our conception of perfect\npurity, something we could not with any propriety ascribe to an all-holy\nbeing. It may be questioned whether anyone was ever altogether destitute\nof this perception, and nothing but the most inveterate passion for system\ncould induce men to resolve it into a mere calculation of interests. It is\nthis feeling or instinct which lies at the root of the whole movement I\nhave described, and it is this too that produced that sense of the\nsanctity of perfect continence which the Catholic church has so warmly\nencouraged, but which may be traced through the most distant ages, and the\nmost various creeds. We find it among the Nazarenes and Essenes of Jud\u00e6a,\namong the priests of Egypt and India, in the monasteries of Tartary, in\nthe histories of miraculous virgins that are so numerous in the\nmythologies of Asia. Such, for example, was the Chinese legend that tells\nhow when there was but one man with one woman upon earth, the woman\nrefused to sacrifice her virginity even in order to people the globe, and\nthe gods honouring her purity granted that she should conceive beneath the\ngaze of her lover\u2019s eyes, and a virgin-mother became the parent of\nhumanity.(120) In the midst of the sensuality of ancient Greece, chastity\nwas the pre-eminent attribute of sanctity ascribed to Athene and Artemis.\n\u201cChaste daughter of Zeus,\u201d prayed the suppliants in \u00c6schylus, \u201cthou whose\ncalm eye is never troubled, look down upon us! Virgin, defend the\nvirgins.\u201d The Parthenon, or virgin\u2019s temple, was the noblest religious\nedifice of Athens. Celibacy was an essential condition in a few of the\norders of priests, and in several orders of priestesses. Plato based his\nmoral system upon the distinction between the bodily or sensual, and the\nspiritual or rational part of our nature, the first being the sign of our\ndegradation, and the second of our dignity. The whole school of Pythagoras\nmade chastity one of its leading virtues, and even laboured for the\ncreation of a monastic system. The conception of the celestial Aphrodite,\nthe uniter of souls, unsullied by the taint of matter, lingered side by\nside with that of the earthly Aphrodite or patroness of lust, and if there\nwas a time when the sculptors sought to pander to the excesses of passion\nthere was another in which all their art was displayed in refining and\nidealising it. Strabo mentions the existence in Thrace of societies of men\naspiring to perfection by celibacy and austere lives. Plutarch applauds\ncertain philosophers who vowed to abstain for a year from wine and women\nin order \u201cto honour God by their continence.\u201d(121) In Rome the religious\nreverence was concentrated more especially upon married life. The great\nprominence accorded to the Penates was the religious sanction of\ndomesticity. So too, at first, was the worship so popular among the Roman\nwomen of the Bona Dea\u2014the ideal wife who according to the legend had, when\non earth, never looked in the face or known the name of any man but her\nhusband.(122) \u201cFor altar and hearth\u201d was the rallying cry of the Roman\nsoldier. But above all this we find the traces of a higher ideal. We find\nit in the intense sanctity attributed to the vestal virgins whose\ncontinence was guarded by such fearful penalties, and supposed to be so\nclosely linked with the prosperity of the state, whose prayer was believed\nto possess a miraculous power, and who were permitted to drive through the\nstreets of Rome at a time when that privilege was refused even to the\nEmpress.(123) We find it in the legend of Claudia, who, when the ship\nbearing the image of the mother of the gods had been stranded in the\nTiber, attached her girdle to its prow, and vindicated her challenged\nchastity by drawing with her virgin hand, the ponderous mass which strong\nmen had sought in vain to move. We find it in the prophetic gift so often\nattributed to virgins,(124) in the law which sheltered them from the\ndegradation of an execution,(125) in the language of Statius, who\ndescribed marriage itself as a fault.(126) In Christianity one great\nsource of the attraction of the faith has been the ascription of virginity\nto its female ideal. The Catholic monastic system has been so constructed\nas to draw many thousands from the sphere of active duty; its irrevocable\nvows have doubtless led to much suffering and not a little crime; its\nopposition to the normal development of our mingled nature has often\nresulted in grave aberrations of the imagination, and it has placed its\nban upon domestic affections and sympathies which have a very high moral\nvalue; but in its central conception that the purely animal side of our\nbeing is a low and a degraded side, it reflects, I believe, with perfect\nfidelity the feelings of our nature.(127)\n\nTo these considerations some others of a different nature may be added. It\nis not true that some ancient nations regarded polygamy as good in the\nsame sense as others regarded chastity. There is a great difference\nbetween deeming a state permissible and proposing it as a condition of\nsanctity. If Mohammedans people paradise with images of sensuality, it is\nnot because these form their ideal of holiness. It is because they regard\nearth as the sphere of virtue, heaven as that of simple enjoyment. If some\npagan nations deified sensuality, this was simply because the deification\nof the forces of nature, of which the prolific energy is one of the most\nconspicuous, is among the earliest forms of religion, and long precedes\nthe identification of the Deity with a moral ideal.(128) If there have\nbeen nations who attached a certain stigma to virginity, this has not been\nbecause they esteemed sensuality intrinsically holier than chastity; but\nbecause a scanty, warlike people whose position in the world depends\nchiefly on the number of its warriors, will naturally make it its main\nobject to encourage population. This was especially the case with the\nancient Jews, who always regarded extreme populousness as indissolubly\nconnected with national prosperity, whose religion was essentially\npatriotic, and among whom the possibility of becoming an ancestor of the\nMessiah had imparted a peculiar dignity to childbirth. Yet even among the\nJews the Essenes regarded virginity as the ideal of sanctity.\n\nThe reader will now be in a position to perceive the utter futility of the\nobjections which from the time of Locke have been continually brought\nagainst the theory of natural moral perceptions, upon the ground that some\nactions which were admitted as lawful in one age, have been regarded as\nimmoral in another. All these become absolutely worthless when it is\nperceived that in every age virtue has consisted in the cultivation of the\nsame feelings, though the standards of excellence attained have been\ndifferent. The terms higher and lower, nobler or less noble, purer or less\npure, represent moral facts with much greater fidelity than the terms\nright or wrong, or virtue or vice. There is a certain sense in which moral\ndistinctions are absolute and immutable. There is another sense in which\nthey are altogether relative and transient. There are some acts which are\nso manifestly and grossly opposed to our moral feelings, that they are\nregarded as wrong in the very earliest stages of the cultivation of these\nfeelings. There are distinctions, such as that between truth and\nfalsehood, which from their nature assume at once a sharpness of\ndefinition that separates them from mere virtues of degree, though even in\nthese cases there are wide variations in the amount of scrupulosity that\nis in different periods required. But apart from positive commands, the\nsole external rule enabling men to designate acts, not simply as better or\nworse, but as positively right or wrong, is, I conceive, the standard of\nsociety; not an arbitrary standard like that which Mandeville imagined,\nbut the level which society has attained in the cultivation of what our\nmoral faculty tells us is the higher or virtuous part of our nature. He\nwho falls below this is obstructing the tendency which is the essence of\nvirtue. He who merely attains this, may not be justified in his own\nconscience, or in other words, by the standard of his own moral\ndevelopment, but as far as any external rule is concerned, he has done his\nduty. He who rises above this has entered into the region of things which\nit is virtuous to do, but not vicious to neglect\u2014a region known among\nCatholic theologians by the name of \u201ccounsels of perfection.\u201d No\ndiscussions, I conceive, can be more idle than whether slavery, or the\nslaughter of prisoners in war, or gladiatorial shows, or polygamy, are\nessentially wrong. They may be wrong now\u2014they were not so once\u2014and when an\nancient countenanced by his example one or other of these, he was not\ncommitting a crime. The unchangeable proposition for which we contend is\nthis\u2014that benevolence is always a virtuous disposition\u2014that the sensual\npart of our nature is always the lower part.\n\nAt this point, however, a very difficult problem naturally arises.\nAdmitting that our moral nature is superior to our intellectual or\nphysical nature, admitting, too, that by the constitution of our being we\nperceive ourselves to be under an obligation to develope our nature to its\nperfection, establishing the supreme ascendency of moral motives, the\nquestion still remains whether the disparity between the different parts\nof our being is such that no material or intellectual advantage, however\ngreat, may be rightly purchased by any sacrifice of our moral nature,\nhowever small. This is the great question of casuistry, the question which\ndivines express by asking whether the end ever justifies the means; and on\nthis subject there exists among theologians a doctrine which is absolutely\nunrealised, which no one ever dreams of applying to actual life, but of\nwhich it may be truly said that though propounded with the best\nintentions, it would, if acted upon, be utterly incompatible with the very\nrudiments of civilisation. It is said that an undoubted sin, even the most\ntrivial, is a thing in its essence and in its consequences so unspeakably\ndreadful, that no conceivable material or intellectual advantage can\ncounterbalance it; that rather than it should be committed, it would be\nbetter that any amount of calamity which did not bring with it sin should\nbe endured, even that the whole human race should perish in agonies.(129)\nIf this be the case, it is manifest that the supreme object of humanity\nshould be sinlessness, and it is equally manifest that the means to this\nend is the absolute suppression of the desires. To expand the circle of\nwants is necessarily to multiply temptations, and therefore to increase\nthe number of sins. It may indeed elevate the moral standard, for a torpid\nsinlessness is not a high moral condition; but if every sin be what these\ntheologians assert, if it be a thing deserving eternal agony, and so\ninconceivably frightful that the ruin of a world is a less evil than its\ncommission, even moral advantages are utterly incommensurate with it. No\nheightening of the moral tone, no depth or ecstasy of devotion, can for a\nmoment be placed in the balance. The consequences of this doctrine, if\napplied to actual life, would be so extravagant, that their simple\nstatement is a refutation. A sovereign, when calculating the consequences\nof a war, should reflect that a single sin occasioned by that war, a\nsingle blasphemy of a wounded soldier, the robbery of a single hencoop,\nthe violation of the purity of a single woman, is a greater calamity than\nthe ruin of the entire commerce of his nation, the loss of her most\nprecious provinces, the destruction of all her power. He must believe that\nthe evil of the increase of unchastity, which invariably results from the\nformation of an army, is an immeasurably greater calamity than any\nmaterial or political disasters that army can possibly avert. He must\nbelieve that the most fearful plague or famine that desolates his land\nshould be regarded as a matter of rejoicing, if it has but the feeblest\nand most transient influence in repressing vice. He must believe that if\nthe agglomeration of his people in great cities adds but one to the number\nof their sins, no possible intellectual or material advantages can prevent\nthe construction of cities being a fearful calamity. According to this\nprinciple, every elaboration of life, every amusement that brings\nmultitudes together, almost every art, every accession of wealth that\nawakens or stimulates desires, is an evil, for all these become the\nsources of some sins, and their advantages are for the most part purely\nterrestrial. The entire structure of civilisation is founded upon the\nbelief that it is a good thing to cultivate intellectual and material\ncapacities, even at the cost of certain moral evils which we are often\nable accurately to foresee.(130) The time may come when the man who lays\nthe foundation-stone of a manufacture will be able to predict with\nassurance in what proportion the drunkenness and the unchastity of his\ncity will be increased by his enterprise. Yet he will still pursue that\nenterprise, and mankind will pronounce it to be good.\n\nThe theological doctrine on the subject, considered in its full\nstringency, though professed by many, is, as I have said, realised and\nconsistently acted on by no one; but the practical judgments of mankind\nconcerning the extent of the superiority of moral over all other interests\nvary greatly, and this variation supplies one of the most serious\nobjections to intuitive moralists. The nearest practical approach to the\ntheological estimate of a sin may be found in the ranks of the ascetics.\nTheir whole system rests upon the belief that it is a thing so\ntranscendently dreadful as to bear no proportion or appreciable relation\nto any earthly interests. Starting from this belief, the ascetic makes it\nthe exclusive object of his life to avoid sinning. He accordingly abstains\nfrom all the active business of society, relinquishes all worldly aims and\nambitions, dulls by continued discipline his natural desires, and\nendeavours to pass a life of complete absorption in religious exercises.\nAnd in all this his conduct is reasonable and consistent. The natural\ncourse of every man who adopts this estimate of the enormity of sin is at\nevery cost to avoid all external influences that can prove temptations,\nand to attenuate as far as possible his own appetites and emotions. It is\nin this respect that the exaggerations of theologians paralyse our moral\nbeing. For the diminution of sins, however important, is but one part of\nmoral progress. Whenever it is forced into a disproportionate prominence,\nwe find tame, languid, and mutilated natures, destitute of all fire and\nenergy, and this tendency has been still further aggravated by the extreme\nprominence usually given to the virtue of gentleness, which may indeed be\nattained by men of strong natures and vehement emotions, but is evidently\nmore congenial to a somewhat feeble and passionless character.\n\nAscetic practices are manifestly and rapidly disappearing, and their\ndecline is a striking proof of the evanescence of the moral notions of\nwhich they were the expression, but in many existing questions relating to\nthe same matter, we find perplexing diversity of judgment. We find it in\nthe contrast between the system of education usually adopted by the\nCatholic priesthood, which has for its pre-eminent object to prevent sins,\nand for its means a constant and minute supervision, and the English\nsystem of public schools, which is certainly not the most fitted to guard\nagainst the possibility of sin, or to foster any very delicate\nscrupulosity of feeling; but is intended, and popularly supposed, to\nsecure the healthy expansion of every variety of capacity. We find it in\nthe widely different attitudes which good men in different periods have\nadopted towards religious opinions they believe to be false; some, like\nthe reformers, refusing to participate in any superstitious service, or to\nwithhold on any occasion, or at any cost, their protest against what they\nregarded as a lie; others, like most ancient, and some modern philosophers\nand politicians, combining the most absolute personal incredulity with an\nassiduous observance of superstitious rites, and strongly censuring those\nwho disturbed delusions which are useful or consolatory to the people;\nwhile a third class silently, but without protest, withdraw themselves\nfrom the observances, and desire that their opinions should have a free\nexpression in literature, but at the same time discourage all\nproselytising efforts to force them rudely on unprepared minds. We find it\nin the frequent conflicts between the political economist and the Catholic\npriest on the subject of early marriages, the former opposing them on the\nground that it is an essential condition of material well-being that the\nstandard of comfort should not be depressed, the latter advocating them on\nthe ground that the postponement of marriages, through prudential motives,\nby any large body of men, is the fertile mother of sin. We find it most\nconspicuously in the marked diversities of tolerance manifested in\ndifferent communities towards amusements which may in themselves be\nperfectly innocent, but which prove the sources or the occasions of vice.\nThe Scotch Puritans probably represent one extreme, the Parisian society\nof the empire the other, while the position of average Englishmen is\nperhaps equidistant between them. Yet this difference, great as it is, is\na difference not of principle, but of degree. No Puritan seriously desires\nto suppress every clan-gathering, every highland game which may have\noccasioned an isolated fit of drunkenness, though he may be unable to show\nthat it has prevented any sin that would otherwise have been committed. No\nFrenchman will question that there is a certain amount of demoralisation\nwhich should not be tolerated, however great the enjoyment that\naccompanies it. Yet the one dwells almost exclusively upon the moral, the\nother upon the attractive, nature of a spectacle. Between these there are\nnumerous gradations, which are shown in frequent disputes about the merits\nand demerits of the racecourse, the ball, the theatre, and the concert.\nWhere then, it may be asked, is the line to be drawn? By what rule can the\npoint be determined at which an amusement becomes vitiated by the evil of\nits consequences?\n\nTo these questions the intuitive moralist is obliged to answer, that such\na line cannot be drawn, that such a rule does not exist. The colours of\nour moral nature are rarely separated by the sharp lines of our\nvocabulary. They fade and blend into one another so imperceptibly, that it\nis impossible to mark a precise point of transition. The end of man is the\nfull development of his being in that symmetry and proportion which nature\nhas assigned it, and such a development implies that the supreme, the\npredominant motive of his life, should be moral. If in any society or\nindividual this ascendency does not exist, that society or that individual\nis in a diseased and abnormal condition. But the superiority of the moral\npart of our nature, though unquestionable, is indefinite not infinite, and\nthe prevailing standard is not at all times the same. The moralist can\nonly lay down general principles. Individual feeling or the general\nsentiment of society must draw the application.\n\nThe vagueness that on such questions confessedly hangs over the intuitive\ntheory, has always been insisted upon by members of the opposite school,\nwho \u2019in the greatest happiness principle\u2019 claim to possess a definite\nformulary, enabling them to draw boldly the frontier line between the\nlawful and the illicit, and to remove moral disputes from the domain of\nfeeling to that of demonstration. But this claim, which forms the great\nattraction of the utilitarian school, is, if I mistake not, one of the\ngrossest of impostures. We compare with accuracy and confidence the value\nof the most various material commodities, for we mean by this term,\nexchangeable value, and we have a common measure of exchange. But we seek\nin vain for such a measure enabling us to compare different kinds of\nutility or happiness. Thus, to take a very familiar example, the question\nmay be proposed, whether excursion trains from a country district to a\nseaport town produce more good than evil, whether a man governed by moral\nprinciples should encourage or oppose them. They give innocent and healthy\nenjoyment to many thousands, they enlarge in some degree the range of\ntheir ideas, they can hardly be said to prevent any sin that would\notherwise have been committed, they give rise to many cases of\ndrunkenness, each of which, according to the theological doctrine we have\nreviewed, should be deemed a more dreadful calamity than the earthquake of\nLisbon, or a visitation of the cholera, but which have not usually any\nlasting terrestrial effects; they also often produce a measure, and\nsometimes no small measure, of more serious vice, and it is probable that\nhundreds of women may trace their first fall to the excursion train. We\nhave here a number of advantages and disadvantages, the first being\nintellectual and physical, and the second moral. Nearly all moralists\nwould acknowledge that a few instances of immorality would not prevent the\nexcursion train being, on the whole, a good thing. All would acknowledge\nthat very numerous instances would more than counterbalance its\nadvantages. The intuitive moralist confesses that he is unable to draw a\nprecise line, showing where the moral evils outweigh the physical\nbenefits. In what possible respect the introduction of Benthamite\nformularies improves the matter, I am unable to understand. No utilitarian\nwould reduce the question to one of simple majority, or would have the\ncynicism to balance the ruin of one woman by the day\u2019s enjoyment of\nanother. The impossibility of drawing, in such cases, a distinct line of\ndivision, is no argument against the intuitive moralist, for that\nimpossibility is shared to the full extent by his rival.\n\nThere are, as we have seen, two kinds of interest with which utilitarian\nmoralists are concerned\u2014the private interest which they believe to be the\nultimate motive, and the public interest which they believe to be the end,\nof all virtue. With reference to the first, the intuitive moralist denies\nthat a selfish act can be a virtuous or meritorious one. If a man when\nabout to commit a theft, became suddenly conscious of the presence of a\npoliceman, and through fear of arrest and punishment were to abstain from\nthe act he would otherwise have committed, this abstinence would not\nappear in the eyes of mankind to possess any moral value; and if he were\ndetermined partly by conscientious motives, and partly by fear, the\npresence of the latter element would, in proportion to its strength,\ndetract from his merit. But although selfish considerations are distinctly\nopposed to virtuous ones, it would be a mistake to imagine they can never\nultimately have a purely moral influence. In the first place, a\nwell-ordered system of threats and punishments marks out the path of\nvirtue with a distinctness of definition it could scarcely have otherwise\nattained. In the next place, it often happens that when the mind is swayed\nby a conflict of motives, the expectation of reward or punishment will so\nreinforce or support the virtuous motives, as to secure their victory;\nand, as every triumph of these motives increases their strength and\nweakens the opposing principles, a step will thus have been made towards\nmoral perfection, which will render more probable the future triumph of\nunassisted virtue.\n\nWith reference to the interests of society, there are two distinct\nassertions to be made. The first is, that although the pursuit of the\nwelfare of others is undoubtedly one form of virtue, it does not include\nall virtue, or, in other words, that there are forms of virtue which, even\nif beneficial to mankind, do not become virtuous on that account, but have\nan intrinsic excellence which is not proportioned to or dependent on their\nutility. The second is, that there may occasionally arise considerations\nof extreme and overwhelming utility that may justify a sacrifice of these\nvirtues. This sacrifice may be made in various ways\u2014as, when a man\nundertakes an enterprise which is in itself perfectly innocent, but which\nin addition to its great material advantages will, as he well knows,\nproduce a certain measure of crime; or when, abstaining from a protest, he\ntacitly countenances beliefs which he considers untrue, because he regards\nthem as transcendently useful; or again, when, for the benefit of others,\nand under circumstances of great urgency, he utters a direct falsehood,\nas, for example, when by such means alone he can save the life of an\ninnocent man.(131) But the fact, that in these cases considerations of\nextreme utility are suffered to override considerations of morality, is in\nno degree inconsistent with the facts, that the latter differ in kind from\nthe former, that they are of a higher nature, and that they may supply\nadequate and legitimate motives of action not only distinct from, but even\nin opposition to utility. Gold and silver are different metals. Gold is\nmore valuable than silver; yet a very small quantity of gold may be\nadvantageously exchanged for a very large quantity of silver.\n\nThe last class of objections to the theory of natural moral perceptions\nwhich it is necessary for me to notice, arises from a very mischievous\nequivocation in the word natural.(132) The term natural man is sometimes\nregarded as synonymous with man in his primitive or barbarous condition,\nand sometimes as expressing all in a civilised man that is due to nature\nas distinguished from artificial habits or acquirements. This equivocation\nis especially dangerous, because it implies one of the most extravagant\nexcesses to which the sensational philosophy could be pushed\u2014the notion\nthat the difference between a savage and a civilised man is simply a\ndifference of acquisition, and not at all a difference of development. In\naccordance with this notion, those who deny original moral distinctions\nhave ransacked the accounts of travellers for examples of savages who\nappeared destitute of moral sentiments, and have adduced them as\nconclusive evidence of their position. Now it is, I think, abundantly\nevident that these narratives are usually exceedingly untrustworthy.(133)\nThey have been in most cases collected by uncritical and unphilosophical\ntravellers, who knew little of the language and still less of the inner\nlife of the people they described, whose means of information were\nacquired in simply traversing the country, who were more struck by moral\nparadox, than by unostentatious virtue, who were proverbially addicted to\nembellishing and exaggerating the singularities they witnessed, and who\nvery rarely investigated their origin. It should not be forgotten that the\nFrench moralists of the last century, who insisted most strongly on this\nspecies of evidence, were also the dupes of one of the most curious\ndelusions in the whole compass of literary history. Those unflinching\nsceptics who claimed to be the true disciples of the apostle who believed\nnothing that he had not touched, and whose relentless criticism played\nwith withering effect on all the holiest feelings of our nature, and on\nall the tenets of traditional creeds, had discovered one happy land where\nthe ideal had ceased to be a dream. They could point to one people whose\npure and rational morality, purged from all the clouds of bigotry and\nenthusiasm, shone with an almost dazzling splendour above the ignorance\nand superstition of Europe. Voltaire forgot to gibe, and Helv\u00e9tius kindled\ninto enthusiasm, when China and the Chinese rose before their minds, and\nto this semi-barbarous nation they habitually attributed maxims of conduct\nthat neither Roman nor Christian virtue had ever realised.\n\nBut putting aside these considerations, and assuming the fidelity of the\npictures of savage life upon which these writers rely, they fail to prove\nthe point for which they are adduced. The moralists I am defending, assert\nthat we possess a natural power of distinguishing between the higher and\nlower parts of our nature. But the eye of the mind, like the eye of the\nbody, may be closed. Moral and rational facilities may be alike dormant,\nand they will certainly be so if men are wholly immersed in the\ngratification of their senses. Man is like a plant, which requires a\nfavourable soil for the full expansion of its natural or innate\npowers.(134) Yet those powers both rational and moral are there, and when\nquickened into action, each will discharge its appointed functions. If it\ncould be proved that there are savages who are absolutely destitute of the\nprogressive energy which distinguishes reason from instinct and of the\nmoral aspiration which constitutes virtue, this would not prove that\nrational or moral faculties form no part of their nature. If it could be\nshown that there is a stage of barbarism in which man knows, feels and\ndoes nothing that might not be known, felt and done by an ape, this would\nnot be sufficient to reduce him to the level of the brute. There would\nstill be this broad distinction between them\u2014the one possesses a capacity\nfor development which the other does not possess. Under favourable\ncircumstances the savage will become a reasoning, progressive, and moral\nman: under no circumstances can a similar transformation be effected in\nthe ape. It may be as difficult to detect the oakleaf in the acorn as in\nthe stone; yet the acorn may be converted into an oak: the stone will\nalways continue to be a stone.(135)\n\nThe foregoing pages will, I trust, have exhibited with sufficient\nclearness the nature of the two great divisions of moral philosophy\u2014the\nschool which proceeds from the primitive truth that all men desire\nhappiness, and endeavours out of this fact to evolve all ethical\ndoctrines, and the school which traces our moral systems to an intuitive\nperception that certain parts of our nature are higher or better than\nothers. It is obvious that this difference concerning the origin of our\nmoral conceptions forms part of the very much wider metaphysical question,\nwhether our ideas are derived exclusively from sensation or whether they\nspring in part from the mind itself. The latter theory in antiquity was\nchiefly represented by the Platonic doctrine of pre-existence, which\nrested on the conviction that the mind has the power of drawing from its\nown depths certain conceptions or ideas which cannot be explained by any\npost-natal experience, and must therefore, it was said, have been acquired\nin a previous existence. In the seventeenth century it took the form of a\ndoctrine of innate ideas. But though this theory in the form in which it\nwas professed by Lord Herbert of Cherbury and assailed by Locke has almost\ndisappeared, the doctrine that we possess certain faculties which by their\nown expansion, and not by the reception of notions from without, are not\nonly capable of, but must necessarily attain, certain ideas, as the bud\nmust necessarily expand into its own specific flower, still occupies a\ndistinguished place in the world of speculation, and its probability has\nbeen greatly strengthened by recent observations of the range and potency\nof instinct in animals. From some passages in his Essay, it appears that\nLocke himself had a confused perception of this distinction,(136) which\nwas by no means unknown to previous writers; and after the publication of\nthe philosophy of Locke it was clearly exhibited by Shaftesbury and\nLeibnitz, and incidentally noticed by Berkeley long before Kant\nestablished his distinction between the form and the matter of our\nknowledge, between ideas which are received _a priori_ and ideas which are\nreceived _a posteriori_. The existence or non-existence of this source of\nideas forms the basis of the opposition between the inductive philosophy\nof England and the French philosophy of the eighteenth century on the one\nhand, and the German and Scotch philosophies, as well as the French\neclecticism of the nineteenth century upon the other. The tendency of the\nfirst school is to restrict as far as possible the active powers of the\nhuman mind, and to aggrandise as far as possible the empire of external\ncircumstances. The other school dwells especially on the instinctive side\nof our nature, and maintains the existence of certain intuitions of the\nreason, certain categories or original conceptions, which are presupposed\nin all our reasonings and cannot be resolved into sensations. The boast of\nthe first school is that its searching analysis leaves no mental\nphenomenon unresolved, and its attraction is the extreme simplicity it can\nattain. The second school multiplies faculties or original principles,\nconcentrates its attention mainly upon the nature of our understanding,\nand asserts very strongly the initiative force both of our will and of our\nintellect.\n\nWe find this connection between a philosophy based upon the senses, and a\nmorality founded upon utility from the earliest times. Aristotle was\ndistinguished among the ancients for the emphasis with which he dwelt upon\nthe utility of virtue, and it was from the writings of Aristotle that the\nschoolmen derived the famous formulary which has become the motto of the\nschool of Locke. Locke himself devoted especial research to the refutation\nof the doctrine of a natural moral sense, which he endeavoured to\noverthrow by a catalogue of immoral practices that exist among savages,\nand the hesitation he occasionally exhibited in his moral doctrine\ncorresponds not unfaithfully to the obscurity thrown over his metaphysics\nby the admission of reflection as a source of ideas. If his opponent\nLeibnitz made pleasure the object of moral action, it was only that\nrefined pleasure which is produced by the contemplation of the happiness\nof others. When, however, Condillac and his followers, removing reflection\nfrom the position Locke had assigned it, reduced the philosophy of\nsensation to its simplest expression, and when the Scotch and German\nwriters elaborated the principles of the opposite school, the moral\ntendencies of both were indisputably manifested. Everywhere the philosophy\nof sensation was accompanied by the morals of interest, and the ideal\nphilosophy, by an assertion of the existence of a moral faculty, and every\ninfluence that has affected the prevailing theory concerning the origin of\nour ideas, has exercised a corresponding influence upon the theories of\nethics.\n\nThe great movement of modern thought, of which Bacon was at once the\nhighest representative and one of the chief agents, has been truly said to\nexhibit a striking resemblance, and at the same time a striking contrast,\nto the movement of ancient thought, which was effected chiefly by the\ngenius of Socrates. In the name of utility, Socrates diverted the\nintellect of antiquity from the fantastic cosmogonies with which it had\nlong been occupied, to the study of the moral nature of man. In the name\nof the same utility Bacon laboured to divert the modern intellect from the\nidle metaphysical speculations of the schoolmen to natural science, to\nwhich newly discovered instruments of research, his own sounder method,\nand a cluster of splendid intellects, soon gave an unprecedented impulse.\nTo the indirect influence of this movement, perhaps, even more than to the\ndirect teaching of Gassendi and Locke, may be ascribed the great\nascendency of sensational philosophy among modern nations, and it is also\nconnected with some of the most important differences between ancient and\nmodern history. Among the ancients the human mind was chiefly directed to\nphilosophical speculations, in which the law seems to be perpetual\noscillation, while among the moderns it has rather tended towards physical\nscience, and towards inventions, in which the law is perpetual progress.\nNational power, and in most cases even national independence, implied\namong the ancients the constant energy of high intellectual or moral\nqualities. When the heroism or the genius of the people had relaxed, when\nan enervating philosophy or the lassitude that often accompanies\ncivilisation arrived, the whole edifice speedily tottered, the sceptre was\ntransferred to another state, and the same history was elsewhere\nreproduced. A great nation bequeathed indeed to its successors works of\ntranscendent beauty in art and literature, philosophies that could avail\nonly when the mind had risen to their level, examples that might stimulate\nthe heroism of an aspiring people, warnings that might sometimes arrest it\non the path to ruin. But all these acted only through the mind. In modern\ntimes, on the other hand, if we put aside religious influences, the\nprincipal causes of the superiority of civilised men are to be found in\ninventions which when once discovered can never pass away, and the effects\nof which are in consequence in a great measure removed from the\nfluctuations of moral life. The causes which most disturbed or accelerated\nthe normal progress of society in antiquity were the appearance of great\nmen, in modern times they have been the appearance of great inventions.\nPrinting has secured the intellectual achievements of the past, and\nfurnished a sure guarantee of future progress. Gunpowder and military\nmachinery have rendered the triumph of barbarians impossible. Steam has\nunited nations in the closest bonds. Innumerable mechanical contrivances\nhave given a decisive preponderance to that industrial element which has\ncoloured all the developments of our civilisation. The leading\ncharacteristics of modern societies are in consequence marked out much\nmore by the triumphs of inventive skill than by the sustained energy of\nmoral causes.\n\nNow it will appear evident, I think, to those who reflect carefully upon\ntheir own minds, and upon the course of history, that these three things,\nthe study of physical science, inventive skill, and industrial enterprise,\nare connected in such a manner, that when in any nation there is a\nlong-sustained tendency towards one, the others will naturally follow.\nThis connection is partly that of cause and effect, for success in either\nof these branches facilitates success in the others, a knowledge of\nnatural laws being the basis of many of the most important inventions, and\nbeing itself acquired by the aid of instruments of research, while\nindustry is manifestly indebted to both. But besides this connection,\nthere is a connection of congruity. The same cast or habit of thought\ndevelopes itself in these three forms. They all represent the natural\ntendencies of what is commonly called the practical as opposed to the\ntheoretical mind, of the inductive or experimental as opposed to the\ndeductive or ideal, of the cautious and the plodding as opposed to the\nimaginative and the ambitious, of the mind that tends naturally to matter\nas opposed to that which dwells naturally on ideas. Among the ancients,\nthe distaste for physical science, which the belief in the capricious\ndivine government of all natural phenomena, and the distaste for\nindustrial enterprise which slavery produced, conspired to favour the\nphilosophical tendency, while among the moderns physical science and the\nhabits of industrial life continually react upon one another.\n\nThere can be no question that the intellectual tendencies of modern times\nare far superior to those of antiquity, both in respect to the material\nprosperity they effect, and to the uninterrupted progress they secure.\nUpon the other hand, it is, I think, equally unquestionable that this\nsuperiority is purchased by the sacrifice of something of dignity and\nelevation of character. It is when the cultivation of mental and moral\nqualities is deemed the primary object, when the mind and its interests\nare most removed from the things of sense, that great characters are most\nfrequent, and the standard of heroism is most high. In this, as in other\ncases, the law of congruity is supreme. The mind that is concentrated most\non the properties of matter, is predisposed to derive all ideas from the\nsenses, while that which dwells naturally upon its own operations inclines\nto an ideal philosophy, and the prevailing system of morals depends\nlargely upon the distinction.\n\nIn the next place, we may observe that the practical consequences, so far\nas ethics are concerned,(137) of the opposition between the two great\nschools of morals, are less than might be inferred from the intellectual\nchasm that separates them. Moralists grow up in the atmosphere of society,\nand experience all the common feelings of other men. Whatever theory of\nthe genesis of morals they may form, they commonly recognise as right the\nbroad moral principles of the world, and they endeavour\u2014though I have\nattempted to show not always successfully\u2014to prove that these principles\nmay be accounted for and justified by their system. The great practical\ndifference between the schools lies, not in the difference of the virtues\nthey inculcate, but in the different degrees of prominence they assign to\neach, in the different casts of mind they represent and promote. As Adam\nSmith observed, a system like that of the Stoics, which makes self-control\nthe ideal of excellence, is especially favourable to the heroic qualities,\na system like that of Hutcheson, which resolves virtue into benevolence,\nto the amiable qualities, and utilitarian systems to the industrial\nvirtues. A society in which any one of these three forms of moral\nexcellence is especially prominent, has a natural tendency towards the\ncorresponding theory of ethics; but, on the other hand, this theory, when\nformed, reacts upon and strengthens the moral tendency that elicited it.\nThe Epicureans and the Stoics can each claim a great historical fact in\ntheir favour. When every other Greek school modified or abandoned the\nteaching of its founder, the disciples of Epicurus at Athens preserved\ntheir hereditary faith unsullied and unchanged.(138) On the other hand, in\nthe Roman empire, almost every great character, almost every effort in the\ncause of liberty, emanated from the ranks of Stoicism, while Epicureanism\nwas continually identified with corruption and with tyranny. The intuitive\nschool, not having a clear and simple external standard, has often proved\nsomewhat liable to assimilate with superstition and mysticism, to become\nfantastic, unreasoning, and unpractical, while the prominence accorded to\ninterest, and the constant intervention of calculation in utilitarian\nsystems, have a tendency to depress the ideal, and give a sordid and\nunheroic ply to the character. The first, dwelling on the moral\ninitiative, elevates the tone and standard of life. The second, revealing\nthe influence of surrounding circumstances upon character, leads to the\nmost important practical reforms.(139) Each school has thus proved in some\nsense at once the corrective and the complement of the other. Each when\npushed to its extreme results, produces evils which lead to the\nreappearance of its rival.\n\nHaving now considered at some length the nature and tendencies of the\ntheories according to which men test and classify their moral feelings, we\nmay pass to an examination of the process according to which these\nfeelings are developed, or, in other words, of the causes that lead\nsocieties to elevate their moral standard and determine their preference\nof some particular kinds of virtue. The observations I have to offer on\nthis subject will be of a somewhat miscellaneous character, but they will\nall, I trust, tend to show the nature of the changes that constitute moral\nhistory, and to furnish us with some general principles which may be\napplied in detail in the succeeding chapters.\n\nIt is sufficiently evident, that, in proportion to the high organisation\nof society, the amiable and the social virtues will be cultivated at the\nexpense of the heroic and the ascetic. A courageous endurance of suffering\nis probably the first form of human virtue, the one conspicuous instance\nin savage life of a course of conduct opposed to natural impulses, and\npursued through a belief that it is higher or nobler than the opposite. In\na disturbed, disorganised, and warlike society, acts of great courage and\ngreat endurance are very frequent, and determine to a very large extent\nthe course of events; but in proportion to the organisation of communities\nthe occasions for their display, and their influence when displayed, are\nalike restricted. Besides this the tastes and habits of civilisation, the\ninnumerable inventions designed to promote comfort and diminish pain, set\nthe current of society in a direction altogether different from heroism,\nand somewhat emasculate, though they refine and soften, the character.\nAsceticism again\u2014including under this term, not merely the monastic\nsystem, but also all efforts to withdraw from the world in order to\ncultivate a high degree of sanctity\u2014belongs naturally to a society which\nis somewhat rude, and in which isolation is frequent and easy. When men\nbecome united in very close bonds of co-operation, when industrial\nenterprise becomes very ardent, and the prevailing impulse is strongly\ntowards material wealth and luxurious enjoyments, virtue is regarded\nchiefly or solely in the light of the interests of society, and this\ntendency is still further strengthened by the educational influence of\nlegislation, which imprints moral distinctions very deeply on the mind,\nbut at the same time accustoms men to measure them solely by an external\nand utilitarian standard.(140) The first table of the law gives way to the\nsecond. Good is not loved for itself, but as the means to an end. All that\nvirtue which is required to form upright and benevolent men is in the\nhighest degree useful to society, but the qualities which constitute a\nsaintly or spiritual character as distinguished from one that is simply\nmoral and amiable, have not the same direct, uniform and manifest tendency\nto the promotion of happiness, and they are accordingly little\nvalued.(141) In savage life the animal nature being supreme, these higher\nqualities are unknown. In a very elaborate material civilisation the\nprevailing atmosphere is not favourable either to their production or\ntheir appreciation. Their place has usually been in an intermediate stage.\n\nOn the other hand, there are certain virtues that are the natural product\nof a cultivated society. Independently of all local and special\ncircumstances, the transition of men from a barbarous or semi-civilised to\na highly organised state necessarily brings with it the destruction or\nabridgment of the legitimate sphere of revenge, by transferring the office\nof punishment from the wronged person to a passionless tribunal appointed\nby society;(142) a growing substitution of pacific for warlike\noccupations, the introduction of refined and intellectual tastes which\ngradually displace amusements that derive their zest from their barbarity,\nthe rapid multiplication of ties of connection between all classes and\nnations, and also the strengthening of the imagination by intellectual\nculture. This last faculty, considered as the power of realisation, forms\nthe chief tie between our moral and intellectual natures. In order to pity\nsuffering we must realise it, and the intensity of our compassion is\nusually proportioned to the vividness of our realisation.(143) The most\nfrightful catastrophe in South America, an earthquake, a shipwreck, or a\nbattle, will elicit less compassion than the death of a single individual\nwho has been brought prominently before our eyes. To this cause must be\nchiefly ascribed the extraordinary measure of compassion usually bestowed\nupon a conspicuous condemned criminal, the affection and enthusiasm that\ncentre upon sovereigns, and many of the glaring inconsistencies of our\nhistorical judgments. The recollection of some isolated act of magnanimity\ndisplayed by Alexander or C\u00e6sar moves us more than the thought of the\n30,000 Thebans whom the Macedonian sold as slaves, of the 2,000 prisoners\nhe crucified at Tyre, of the 1,100,000 men on whose corpses the Roman rose\nto fame. Wrapt in the pale winding-sheet of general terms the greatest\ntragedies of history evoke no vivid images in our minds, and it is only by\na great effort of genius that an historian can galvanise them into life.\nThe irritation displayed by the captive of St. Helena in his bickerings\nwith his gaoler affects most men more than the thought of the nameless\nthousands whom his insatiable egotism had hurried to the grave. Such is\nthe frailty of our nature that we are more moved by the tears of some\ncaptive princess, by some trifling biographical incident that has floated\ndown the stream of history, than by the sorrows of all the countless\nmultitudes who perished beneath the sword of a Tamerlane, a Bajazet, or a\nZenghis Khan.\n\nIf our benevolent feelings are thus the slaves of our imaginations, if an\nact of realisation is a necessary antecedent and condition of compassion,\nit is obvious that any influence that augments the range and power of this\nrealising faculty is favourable to the amiable virtues, and it is equally\nevident that education has in the highest degree this effect. To an\nuneducated man all classes, nations, modes of thought and existence\nforeign to his own are unrealised, while every increase of knowledge\nbrings with it an increase of insight, and therefore of sympathy. But the\naddition to his knowledge is the smallest part of this change. The\nrealising faculty is itself intensified. Every book he reads, every\nintellectual exercise in which he engages, accustoms him to rise above the\nobjects immediately present to his senses, to extend his realisations into\nnew spheres, and reproduce in his imagination the thoughts, feelings, and\ncharacters of others, with a vividness inconceivable to the savage. Hence,\nin a great degree, the tact with which a refined mind learns to\ndiscriminate and adapt itself to the most delicate shades of feeling, and\nhence too the sensitive humanity with which, in proportion to their\ncivilisation, men realise and recoil from cruelty.\n\nWe have here, however, an important distinction to draw. Under the name of\ncruelty are comprised two kinds of vice, altogether different in their\ncauses and in most of their consequences. There is the cruelty which\nsprings from callousness and brutality, and there is the cruelty of\nvindictiveness. The first belongs chiefly to hard, dull, and somewhat\nlethargic characters, it appears most frequently in strong and conquering\nnations and in temperate climates, and it is due in a very great degree to\ndefective realisation. The second is rather a feminine attribute, it is\nusually displayed in oppressed and suffering communities, in passionate\nnatures, and in hot climates. Great vindictiveness is often united with\ngreat tenderness, and great callousness with great magnanimity, but a\nvindictive nature is rarely magnanimous, and a brutal nature is still more\nrarely tender. The ancient Romans exhibited a remarkable combination of\ngreat callousness and great magnanimity, while by a curious contrast the\nmodern Italian character verges manifestly towards the opposite\ncombination. Both forms of cruelty are, if I mistake not, diminished with\nadvancing civilisation, but by different causes and in different degrees.\nCallous cruelty disappears before the sensitiveness of a cultivated\nimagination. Vindictive cruelty is diminished by the substitution of a\npenal system for private revenge.\n\nThe same intellectual culture that facilitates the realisation of\nsuffering, and therefore produces compassion, facilitates also the\nrealisation of character and opinions, and therefore produces charity. The\ngreat majority of uncharitable judgments in the world may be traced to a\ndeficiency of imagination. The chief cause of sectarian animosity, is the\nincapacity of most men to conceive hostile systems in the light in which\nthey appear to their adherents, and to enter into the enthusiasm they\ninspire. The acquisition of this power of intellectual sympathy is a\ncommon accompaniment of a large and cultivated mind, and wherever it\nexists, it assuages the rancour of controversy. The severity of our\njudgment of criminals is also often excessive, because the imagination\nfinds it more easy to realise an action than a state of mind. Any one can\nconceive a fit of drunkenness or a deed of violence, but few persons who\nare by nature very sober or very calm can conceive the natural disposition\nthat predisposes to it. A good man brought up among all the associations\nof virtue reads of some horrible crime, his imagination exhausts itself in\ndepicting its circumstances, and he then estimates the guilt of the\ncriminal, by asking himself, \u201cHow guilty should _I_ be, were I to\nperpetrate such an act?\u201d To realise with any adequacy the force of a\npassion we have never experienced, to conceive a type of character\nradically different from our own, above all, to form any just appreciation\nof the lawlessness and obtuseness of moral temperament, inevitably\ngenerated by a vicious education, requires a power of imagination which is\namong the rarest of human endowments. Even in judging our own conduct,\nthis feebleness of imagination is sometimes shown, and an old man\nrecalling the foolish actions, but having lost the power of realising the\nfeelings, of his youth, may be very unjust to his own past. That which\nmakes it so difficult for a man of strong vicious passions to unbosom\nhimself to a naturally virtuous man, is not so much the virtue as the\nignorance of the latter. It is the conviction that he cannot possibly\nunderstand the force of a passion he has never felt. That which alone\nrenders tolerable to the mind the thought of judgment by an all-pure\nBeing, is the union of the attribute of omniscience with that of purity,\nfor perfect knowledge implies a perfect power of realisation. The further\nour analysis extends, and the more our realising faculties are cultivated,\nthe more sensible we become of the influence of circumstances both upon\ncharacter and upon opinions, and of the exaggerations of our first\nestimates of moral inequalities. Strong antipathies are thus gradually\nsoftened down. Men gain much in charity, but they lose something in zeal.\n\nWe may push, I think, this vein of thought one step farther. Our\nimagination, which governs our affections, has in its earlier and feebler\nstages little power of grasping ideas, except in a personified and\nconcrete form, and the power of rising to abstractions is one of the best\nmeasures of intellectual progress. The beginning of writing is the\nhieroglyphic or symbolical picture; the beginning of worship is fetishism\nor idolatry; the beginning of eloquence is pictorial, sensuous, and\nmetaphorical; the beginning of philosophy is the myth. The imagination in\nits first stages concentrates itself on individuals; gradually by an\neffort of abstraction it rises to an institution or well-defined\norganisation; it is only at a very advanced stage that it can grasp a\nmoral and intellectual principle. Loyalty, patriotism, and attachment to a\ncosmopolitan cause are therefore three forms of moral enthusiasm\nrespectively appropriate to three successive stages of mental progress,\nand they have, I think, a certain analogy to idolatrous worship, church\nfeeling, and moral culture, which are the central ideas of three stages of\nreligious history.\n\nThe reader will readily understand that generalisations of this kind can\npretend to nothing more than an approximate truth. Our knowledge of the\nlaws of moral progress is like that of the laws of climate. We lay down\ngeneral rules about the temperature to be expected as we approach or\nrecede from the equator, and experience shows that they are substantially\ncorrect; but yet an elevated plain, or a chain of mountains, or the\nneighbourhood of the sea, will often in some degree derange our\ncalculations. So, too, in the history of moral changes, innumerable\nspecial agencies, such as religious or political institutions,\ngeographical conditions, traditions, antipathies, and affinities, exercise\na certain retarding, accelerating, or deflecting influence, and somewhat\nmodify the normal progress. The proposition for which I am contending is\nsimply that there is such a thing as a natural history of morals, a\ndefined and regular order, in which our moral feelings are unfolded; or,\nin other words, that there are certain groups of virtues which spring\nspontaneously out of the circumstances and mental conditions of an\nuncivilised people, and that there are others which are the normal and\nappropriate products of civilisation. The virtues of uncivilised men are\nrecognised as virtues by civilised men, but they are neither exhibited in\nthe same perfection, nor given the same position in the scale of duties.\nOf these moral changes none are more obvious than the gradual decadence of\nheroism both active and passive, the increase of compassion and of\ncharity, and the transition from the enthusiasm of loyalty to those of\npatriotism and liberty.\n\nAnother form of virtue which usually increases with civilisation is\nveracity, a term which must be regarded as including something more than\nthe simple avoidance of direct falsehood. In the ordinary intercourse of\nlife it is readily understood that a man is offending against truth, not\nonly when he utters a deliberate falsehood, but also when in his statement\nof a case he suppresses or endeavours to conceal essential facts, or makes\npositive assertions without having conscientiously verified their grounds.\nThe earliest form in which the duty of veracity is enforced is probably\nthe observance of vows, which occupy a position of much prominence in\nyouthful religions. With the subsequent progress of civilisation, we find\nthe successive inculcation of three forms of veracity, which may be termed\nrespectively industrial, political, and philosophical. By the first I\nunderstand that accuracy of statement or fidelity to engagements which is\ncommonly meant when we speak of a truthful man. Though in some cases\nsustained by the strong sense of honour which accompanies a military\nspirit, this form of veracity is usually the special virtue of an\nindustrial nation, for although industrial enterprise affords great\ntemptations to deception, mutual confidence, and therefore strict\ntruthfulness, are in these occupations so transcendently important that\nthey acquire in the minds of men a value they had never before possessed.\nVeracity becomes the first virtue in the moral type, and no character is\nregarded with any kind of approbation in which it is wanting. It is made\nmore than any other the test distinguishing a good from a bad man. We\naccordingly find that even where the impositions of trade are very\nnumerous, the supreme excellence of veracity is cordially admitted in\ntheory, and it is one of the first virtues that every man aspiring to\nmoral excellence endeavours to cultivate. This constitutes probably the\nchief moral superiority of nations pervaded by a strong industrial spirit\nover nations like the Italians, the Spaniards, or the Irish, among whom\nthat spirit is wanting. The usual characteristic of the latter nations is\na certain laxity or instability of character, a proneness to exaggeration,\na want of truthfulness in little things, an infidelity to engagements from\nwhich an Englishman, educated in the habits of industrial life, readily\ninfers a complete absence of moral principle. But a larger philosophy and\na deeper experience dispel his error. He finds that where the industrial\nspirit has not penetrated, truthfulness rarely occupies in the popular\nmind the same prominent position in the catalogue of virtues. It is not\nreckoned among the fundamentals of morality, and it is possible and even\ncommon to find in those nations\u2014what would be scarcely possible in an\nindustrial society\u2014men who are habitually dishonest and untruthful in\nsmall things, and whose lives are nevertheless influenced by a deep\nreligious feeling, and adorned by the consistent practice of some of the\nmost difficult and most painful virtues. Trust in Providence, content and\nresignation in extreme poverty and suffering, the most genuine amiability\nand the most sincere readiness to assist their brethren, an adherence to\ntheir religious opinions which no persecutions and no bribes can shake, a\ncapacity for heroic, transcendent, and prolonged self-sacrifice, may be\nfound in some nations in men who are habitual liars and habitual cheats.\n\nThe promotion of industrial veracity is probably the single form in which\nthe growth of manufactures exercises a favourable influence upon morals.\nIt is possible, however, for this virtue to exist in great perfection\nwithout any corresponding growth of political veracity, or in other words,\nof that spirit of impartiality which in matters of controversy desires\nthat all opinions, arguments, and facts should be fully and fairly stated.\nThis habit of what is commonly termed \u201cfair play\u201d is especially the\ncharacteristic of free communities, and it is pre-eminently fostered by\npolitical life. The practice of debate creates a sense of the injustice of\nsuppressing one side of a case, which gradually extends through all forms\nof intellectual life, and becomes an essential element in the national\ncharacter. But beyond all this there is a still higher form of\nintellectual virtue. By enlarged intellectual culture, especially by\nphilosophic studies, men come at last to pursue truth for its own sake, to\nesteem it a duty to emancipate themselves from party spirit, prejudices,\nand passion, and through love of truth to cultivate a judicial spirit in\ncontroversy. They aspire to the intellect not of a sectarian but of a\nphilosopher, to the intellect not of a partisan but of a statesman.\n\nOf these three forms of a truthful spirit the two last may be said to\nbelong exclusively to a highly civilised society. The last especially can\nhardly be attained by any but a cultivated mind, and is one of the latest\nflowers of virtue that bloom in the human heart. The growth, however, both\nof political and philosophical veracity has been unnaturally retarded by\nthe opposition of theologians, who made it during many centuries a main\nobject of their policy to suppress all writings that were opposed to their\nviews, and who, when this power had escaped their grasp, proceeded to\ndiscourage in every way impartiality of mind and judgment, and to\nassociate it with the notion of sin.\n\nTo the observations I have already made concerning the moral effects of\nindustrial life, I shall at present add but two. The first is that an\nindustrial spirit creates two wholly different types of character\u2014a\nthrifty character and a speculating character. Both types grow out of a\nstrong sense of the value and a strong desire for the attainment of\nmaterial comforts, but they are profoundly different both in their virtues\nand their vices. The chief characteristic of the one type is caution, that\nof the other enterprise. Thriftiness is one of the best regulators of\nlife. It produces order, sobriety, moderation, self-restraint, patient\nindustry, and all that cast of virtues which is designated by the term\nrespectability; but it has also a tendency to form contracted and\nungenerous natures, incapable of enthusiasm or lively sympathy. The\nspeculating character, on the other hand, is restless, fiery, and\nuncertain, very liable to fall into great and conspicuous vices, impatient\nof routine, but by no means unfavourable to strong feelings, to great\ngenerosity or resolution. Which of these two forms the industrial spirit\nassumes depends upon local circumstances. Thriftiness flourishes chiefly\namong men placed outside the great stream of commerce, and in positions\nwhere wealth is only to be acquired by slow and steady industry, while the\nspeculating character is most common in the great centres of enterprise\nand of wealth.\n\nIn the next place, it may be remarked that industrial habits bring\nforethought into a new position in the moral type. In early stages of\ntheological belief, men regarding every incident that happens to them as\nthe result of a special divine decree, sometimes esteem it a test of faith\nand a form of duty to take no precautions for the future, but to leave\nquestions of food and clothing to Providential interposition. On the other\nhand, in an industrial civilisation, prudent forethought is regarded not\nsimply as lawful, but as a duty, and a duty of the very highest order. A\ngood man of the industrial type deems it a duty not to marry till he has\nensured the maintenance of a possible family; if he possesses children, he\nregulates his expenses not simply by the relation of his income to his\nimmediate wants, but with a constant view to the education of his sons, to\nthe portioning of his daughters, to the future necessities and careers of\neach member of his family. Constant forethought is the guiding principle\nof his whole life. No single circumstance is regarded as a better test of\nthe civilisation of a people than the extent to which it is diffused among\nthem. The old doctrine virtually disappears, and is interpreted to mean\nnothing more than that we should accept with resignation what no efforts\nand no forethought could avert.\n\nThis change is but one of several influences which, as civilisation\nadvances, diminish the spirit of reverence among mankind. Reverence is one\nof those feelings which, in utilitarian systems, would occupy at best a\nvery ambiguous position; for it is extremely questionable whether the\ngreat evils that have grown out of it in the form of religious\nsuperstition and political servitude have not made it a source of more\nunhappiness than happiness. Yet, however doubtful may be its position if\nestimated by its bearing on happiness and on progress, there are few\npersons who are not conscious that no character can attain a supreme\ndegree of excellence in which a reverential spirit is wanting. Of all the\nforms of moral goodness it is that to which the epithet beautiful may be\nmost emphatically applied. Yet the habits of advancing civilisation are,\nif I mistake not, on the whole inimical to its growth. For reverence grows\nout of a sense of constant dependence. It is fostered by that condition of\nreligions thought in which men believe that each incident that befalls\nthem is directly and specially ordained, and when every event is therefore\nfraught with a moral import. It is fostered by that condition of\nscientific knowledge in which every portentous natural phenomenon is\nsupposed to be the result of a direct divine interposition, and awakens in\nconsequence emotions of humility and awe. It is fostered in that stage of\npolitical life when loyalty or reverence for the sovereign is the\ndominating passion, when an aristocracy, branching forth from the throne,\nspreads habits of deference and subordination through every village, when\na revolutionary, a democratic, and a sceptical spirit are alike unknown.\nEvery great change, either of belief or of circumstances, brings with it a\nchange of emotions. The self-assertion of liberty, the levelling of\ndemocracy, the dissecting-knife of criticism, the economical revolutions\nthat reduce the relations of classes to simple contracts, the\nagglomeration of population, and the facilities of locomotion that sever\nso many ancient ties, are all incompatible with the type of virtue which\nexisted before the power of tradition was broken, and when the chastity of\nfaith was yet unstained. Benevolence, uprightness, enterprise,\nintellectual honesty, a love of freedom, and a hatred of superstition are\ngrowing around us, but we look in vain for that most beautiful character\nof the past, so distrustful of self, and so trustful of others, so simple,\nso modest, and so devout, which even when, Ixion-like, it bestowed its\naffections upon a cloud, made its very illusions the source of some of the\npurest virtues of our nature. In a few minds, the contemplation of the\nsublime order of nature produces a reverential feeling, but to the great\nmajority of mankind it is an incontestable though mournful fact, that the\ndiscovery of controlling and unchanging law deprives phenomena of their\nmoral significance, and nearly all the social and political spheres in\nwhich reverence was fostered have passed away. Its most beautiful displays\nare not in nations like the Americans or the modern French, who have\nthrown themselves most fully into the tendencies of the age, but rather in\nsecluded regions like Styria or the Tyrol. Its artistic expression is\nfound in no work of modern genius, but in the medi\u00e6val cathedral, which,\nmellowed but not impaired by time, still gazes on us in its deathless\nbeauty through the centuries of the past. A superstitious age, like every\nother phase of human history, has its distinctive virtues, which must\nnecessarily decline before a new stage of progress can be attained.\n\nThe virtues and vices growing out of the relation between the sexes are\ndifficult to treat in general terms, both on account of the obvious\ndelicacy of the subject, and also because their natural history is\nextremely obscured by special causes. In the moral evolutions we have as\nyet examined, the normal influences are most powerful, and the importance\nof deranging and modifying circumstances is altogether subsidiary. The\nexpansion of the amiable virtues, the decline of heroism and loyalty, and\nthe growth of industrial habits spring out of changes which necessarily\ntake place under almost all forms of civilisation,(144) and the broad\nfeatures of the movement are therefore in almost all nations substantially\nthe same. But in the history of sensuality, special causes, such as\nslavery, religious doctrines, or laws affecting marriage, have been the\nmost powerful agents. The immense changes effected in this field by the\nChristian religion I shall hereafter examine. In the present chapter I\nshall content myself with two or three very general remarks relating to\nthe nature of the vice, and to the effect of different stages of\ncivilisation upon its progress.\n\nThere are, I conceive, few greater fallacies than are involved in the\nmethod so popular among modern writers of judging the immorality of a\nnation by its statistics of illegitimate births. Independently of the\nobvious defect of this method in excluding simple prostitution from our\ncomparison, it altogether neglects the fact that a large number of\nillegitimate births arise from causes totally different from the great\nviolence of the passions. Such, for example, is the notion prevailing in\nmany country districts of England, that the marriage ceremony has a\nretrospective virtue, cancelling previous immorality; and such too is the\ncustom so general among some classes on the Continent of forming permanent\nconnections without the sanction either of a legal or a religious\nceremony. However deeply such facts may be reprehended and deplored, it\nwould be obviously absurd to infer from them that the nations in which\nthey are most prominent are most conspicuous for the uncontrolled violence\nof their sensual passions. In Sweden, which long ranked among the lowest\nin the moral scale, if measured by the number of illegitimate births, the\nchief cause appears to have been the difficulties with which legislators\nsurrounded marriage.(145) Even in displays of actual and violent passion,\nthere are distinctions to be drawn which statistics are wholly unable to\nreach. The coarse, cynical, and ostentatious sensuality which forms the\nmost repulsive feature of the French character, the dreamy, languid, and\n\u00e6sthetical sensuality of the Spaniard or the Italian, the furtive and\nretiring sensuality of some northern nations, though all forms of the same\nvice, are widely different feelings, and exercise widely different effects\nupon the prevailing disposition.\n\nIn addition to the very important influence upon public morals which\nclimate, I think, undoubtedly exercises in stimulating or allaying the\npassions, it has a powerful indirect action upon the position, character,\nand tastes of women, by determining the prevalence of indoor or\nout-of-door life, and also the classes among whom the gift of beauty is\ndiffused. In northern countries the prevailing cast of beauty depends\nrather on colour than on form. It consists chiefly of a freshness and\ndelicacy of complexion which severe labour and constant exposure\nnecessarily destroy, and which is therefore rarely found in the highest\nperfection among the very poor. But the southern type is essentially\ndemocratic. The fierce rays of the sun only mellow and mature its charms.\nIts most perfect examples may be found in the hovel as in the palace, and\nthe effects of this diffusion of beauty may be traced both in the manners\nand the morals of the people.\n\nIt is probable that the observance of this form of virtue is naturally\nmost strict in a rude and semi-civilised but not barbarous people, and\nthat a very refined civilisation is not often favourable to its growth.\nSensuality is the vice of young men and of old nations. A languid\nepicureanism is the normal condition of nations which have attained a high\nintellectual or social civilisation, but which, through political causes,\nhave no adequate sphere for the exertion of their energies. The temptation\narising from the great wealth of some, and from the feverish longing for\nluxury and exciting pleasures in others, which exists in all large towns,\nhas been peculiarly fatal to female virtue, and the whole tendency of the\npublic amusements of civilisation is in the same direction. The rude\ncombats which form the chief enjoyments of barbarians produce cruelty. The\ndramatic and artistic tastes and the social habits of refined men produce\nsensuality. Education raises many poor women to a stage of refinement that\nmakes them suitable companions for men of a higher rank, and not suitable\nfor those of their own. Industrial pursuits have, indeed, a favourable\ninfluence in promoting habits of self-restraint, and especially in\nchecking the licence of military life; but on the other hand, they greatly\nincrease temptation by encouraging postponement of marriage, and in\ncommunities, even more than in individuals, moral inequalities are much\nmore due to differences of temptation than to differences of\nself-restraint. In large bodies of men a considerable increase of\ntemptation always brings with it an increase, though not necessarily a\nproportionate increase, of vice. Among the checks on excessive\nmultiplication, the historical influence of voluntary continence has been,\nit must be feared, very small. Physical and moral evils have alone been\ndecisive, and as these form the two opposite weights, we unhappily very\nfrequently find that the diminution of the one has been followed by the\nincrease of the other. The nearly universal custom of early marriages\namong the Irish peasantry has alone rendered possible that high standard\nof female chastity, that intense and jealous sensitiveness respecting\nfemale honour, for which, among many failings and some vices, the Irish\npoor have long been pre-eminent in Europe; but these very marriages are\nthe most conspicuous proofs of the national improvidence, and one of the\nmost fatal obstacles to industrial prosperity. Had the Irish peasants been\nless chaste, they would have been more prosperous. Had that fearful\nfamine, which in the present century desolated the land, fallen upon a\npeople who thought more of accumulating subsistence than of avoiding sin,\nmultitudes might now be living who perished by literal starvation on the\ndreary hills of Limerick or Skibbereen.\n\nThe example of Ireland furnishes us, however, with a remarkable instance\nof the manner in which the influence of a moral feeling may act beyond the\ncircumstances that gave it birth. There is no fact in Irish history more\nsingular than the complete, and, I believe, unparalleled absence among the\nIrish priesthood of those moral scandals which in every continental\ncountry occasionally prove the danger of vows of celibacy. The unsuspected\npurity of the Irish priests in this respect is the more remarkable,\nbecause, the government of the country being Protestant, there is no\nspecial inquisitorial legislation to ensure it, because of the almost\nunbounded influence of the clergy over their parishioners, and also\nbecause if any just cause of suspicion existed, in the fierce sectarianism\nof Irish public opinion, it would assuredly be magnified. Considerations\nof climate are quite inadequate to explain this fact; but the chief cause\nis, I think, sufficiently obvious. The habit of marrying at the first\ndevelopment of the passions has produced among the Irish peasantry, from\nwhom the priests for the most part spring, an extremely strong feeling of\nthe iniquity of irregular sexual indulgence, which retains its power even\nover those who are bound to perpetual celibacy.\n\nIt will appear evident from the foregoing considerations that, while the\nessential nature of virtue and vice is unaltered, there is a perpetual,\nand in some branches an orderly and necessary change, as society advances,\nboth in the proportionate value attached to different virtues in theory,\nand in the perfection in which they are realised in practice. It will\nappear too that, while there may be in societies such a thing as moral\nimprovement, there is rarely or never, on a large scale, such a thing as\nunmixed improvement. We may gain more than we lose, but we always lose\nsomething. There are virtues which are continually dying away with\nadvancing civilisation, and even the lowest stage possesses its\ndistinctive excellence. There is no spectacle more piteous or more\nhorrible to a good man than that of an oppressed nationality writhing in\nanguish beneath a tyrant\u2019s yoke; but there is no condition in which\npassionate, unquestioning self-sacrifice and heroic courage, and the true\nsentiment of fraternity are more grandly elicited, and it is probable that\nthe triumph of liberty will in these forms not only lessen the moral\nperformances, but even weaken the moral capacities of mankind. War is, no\ndoubt, a fearful evil, but it is the seed-plot of magnanimous virtues,\nwhich in a pacific age must wither and decay. Even the gambling-table\nfosters among its more skilful votaries a kind of moral nerve, a capacity\nfor bearing losses with calmness, and controlling the force of the\ndesires, which is scarcely exhibited in equal perfection in any other\nsphere.\n\nThere is still so great a diversity of civilisation in existing nations\nthat traversing tracts of space is almost like traversing tracts of time,\nfor it brings us in contact with living representatives of nearly every\nphase of past civilisation. But these differences are rapidly disappearing\nbefore the unparalleled diffusion and simplification of knowledge, the\nstill more amazing progress in means of locomotion, and the political and\nmilitary causes that are manifestly converting Europe into a federation of\nvast centralised and democratic States. Even to those who believe that the\nleading changes are on the whole beneficial, there is much that is\nmelancholy in this revolution. Those small States which will soon have\ndisappeared from the map of Europe, besides their vast superiority to most\ngreat empires in financial prosperity, in the material well-being of the\ninhabitants, and in many cases in political liberty, pacific tastes, and\nintellectual progress, form one of the chief refuges of that spirit of\ncontent, repose, and retrospective reverence which is pre-eminently\nwanting in modern civilisation, and their security is in every age one of\nthe least equivocal measures of international morality. The monastic\nsystem, however pernicious when enlarged to excess, has undoubtedly\ncontributed to the happiness of the world, by supplying an asylum\nespecially suited to a certain type of character; and that vindictive and\nshort-sighted revolution which is extirpating it from Europe is destroying\none of the best correctives of the excessive industrialism of our age. It\nis for the advantage of a nation that it should attain the most advanced\nexisting type of progress, but it is extremely questionable whether it is\nfor the advantage of the community at large that all nations should attain\nthe same type, even when it is the most advanced. The influence of very\nvarious circumstances is absolutely necessary to perfect moral\ndevelopment. Hence, one of the great political advantages of class\nrepresentation, which brings within the range of politics a far greater\nvariety both of capacities and moral qualities than can be exhibited when\none class has an exclusive or overwhelmingly preponderating influence, and\nalso of heterogeneous empires, in which different degrees of civilisation\nproduce different kinds of excellence which react upon and complete one\nanother. In the rude work of India and Australia a type of character is\nformed which England could ill afford to lose.\n\nThe remarks I have now made will be sufficient, I hope, to throw some\nlight upon those great questions concerning the relations of intellectual\nand moral progress which have of late years attracted so large an amount\nof attention. It has been contended that the historian of human progress\nshould concentrate his attention exclusively on the intellectual elements;\nfor there is no such thing as moral history, morals being essentially\nstationary, and the rudest barbarians being in this respect as far\nadvanced as ourselves. In opposition to this view, I have maintained that\nwhile what may be termed the primal elements of morals are unaltered,\nthere is a perpetual change in the standard which is exacted, and also in\nthe relative value attached to particular virtues, and that these changes\nconstitute one of the most important branches of general history. It has\nbeen contended by other writers that, although such changes do take place,\nand although they play an extremely great part in the world, they must be\nlooked upon as the result of intellectual causes, changes in knowledge\nproducing changes in morals. In this view, as we have seen, there is some\ntruth, but it can only, I think, be accepted with great qualification. It\nis one of the plainest of facts that neither the individuals nor the ages\nmost distinguished for intellectual achievements have been most\ndistinguished for moral excellence, and that a high intellectual and\nmaterial civilisation has often coexisted with much depravity. In some\nrespects the conditions of intellectual growth are not favourable to moral\ngrowth. The agglomeration of men in great cities\u2014which are always the\ncentres of progress and enlightenment\u2014is one of the most important causes\nof material and intellectual advance: but great towns are the peculiar\nseed-plots of vice, and it is extremely questionable whether they produce\nany special and equivalent efflorescence of virtue, for even the social\nvirtues are probably more cultivated in small populations, where men live\nin more intimate relations. Many of the most splendid outbursts of moral\nenthusiasm may be traced to an overwhelming force of conviction rarely\nfound in very cultivated minds, which are keenly sensible to possibilities\nof error, conflicting arguments, and qualifying circumstances.\nCivilisation has on the whole been more successful in repressing crime\nthan in repressing vice. It is very favourable to the gentler, charitable,\nand social virtues, and, where slavery does not exist, to the industrial\nvirtues, and it is the especial nurse of the intellectual virtues; but it\nis in general not equally favourable to the production of self-sacrifice,\nenthusiasm, reverence, or chastity.\n\nThe moral changes, however, which are effected by civilisation may\nultimately be ascribed chiefly to intellectual causes, for these lie at\nthe root of the whole structure of civilised life. Sometimes, as we have\nseen, intellectual causes act directly, but more frequently they have only\nan indirect influence, producing habits of life which in their turn\nproduce new conceptions of duty. The morals of men are more governed by\ntheir pursuits than by their opinions. A type of virtue is first formed by\ncircumstances, and men afterwards make it the model upon which their\ntheories are framed. Thus geographical or other circumstances, that make\none nation military and another industrial, will produce in each a\nrealised type of excellence, and corresponding conceptions about the\nrelative importance of different virtues widely different from those which\nare produced in the other, and this may be the case although the amount of\nknowledge in the two communities is substantially equal.\n\nHaving discussed these questions as fully as the nature of my subject\nrequires, I will conclude this chapter by noticing a few very prevalent\nerrors in the moral judgments of history, and will also endeavour to\nelucidate some important consequences that may be deduced from the nature\nof moral types.\n\nIt is probable that the moral standard of most men is much lower in\npolitical judgments than in private matters in which their own interests\nare concerned. There is nothing more common than for men who in private\nlife are models of the most scrupulous integrity to justify or excuse the\nmost flagrant acts of political dishonesty and violence; and we should be\naltogether mistaken if we argued rigidly from such approvals to the\ngeneral moral sentiments of those who utter them. Not unfrequently too, by\na curious moral paradox, political crimes are closely connected with\nnational virtues. A people who are submissive, gentle, and loyal, fall by\nreason of these very qualities under a despotic government; but this\nuncontrolled power has never failed to exercise a most pernicious\ninfluence on rulers, and their numerous acts of rapacity and aggression\nbeing attributed in history to the nation they represent, the national\ncharacter is wholly misinterpreted.(146) There are also particular kinds\nboth of virtue and of vice which appear prominently before the world,\nwhile others of at least equal influence almost escape the notice of\nhistory. Thus, for example, the sectarian animosities, the horrible\npersecutions, the blind hatred of progress, the ungenerous support of\nevery galling disqualification and restraint, the intense class\nselfishness, the obstinately protracted defence of intellectual and\npolitical superstition, the childish but whimsically ferocious quarrels\nabout minute dogmatic distinctions, or dresses, or candlesticks, which\nconstitute together the main features of ecclesiastical history, might\nnaturally, though very unjustly, lead men to place the ecclesiastical type\nin almost the lowest rank, both intellectually and morally. These are, in\nfact, the displays of ecclesiastical influence which stand in bold relief\nin the pages of history. The civilising and moralising influence of the\nclergyman in his parish, the simple, unostentatious, unselfish zeal with\nwhich he educates the ignorant, guides the erring, comforts the sorrowing,\nbraves the horrors of pestilence, and sheds a hallowing influence over the\ndying hour, the countless ways in which, in his little sphere, he allays\nevil passions, and softens manners, and elevates and purifies those around\nhim\u2014all these things, though very evident to the detailed observer, do not\nstand out in the same vivid prominence in historical records, and are\ncontinually forgotten by historians. It is always hazardous to argue from\nthe character of a corporation to the character of the members who compose\nit, but in no other case is this method of judgment so fallacious as in\nthe history of ecclesiastics, for there is no other class whose\ndistinctive excellences are less apparent, and whose mental and moral\ndefects are more glaringly conspicuous in corporate action. In different\nnations, again, the motives of virtue are widely different, and serious\nmisconceptions arise from the application to one nation of the measure of\nanother. Thus the chief national virtues of the French people result from\nan intense power of sympathy, which is also the foundation of some of\ntheir most beautiful intellectual qualities, of their social habits, and\nof their unrivalled influence in Europe. No other nation has so habitual\nand vivid a sympathy with great struggles for freedom beyond its border.\nNo other literature exhibits so expansive and \u0153cumenical a genius, or\nexpounds so skilfully, or appreciates so generously, foreign ideas. In\nhardly any other land would a disinterested war for the support of a\nsuffering nationality find so large an amount of support. The national\ncrimes of France are many and grievous, but much will be forgiven her\nbecause she loved much. The Anglo-Saxon nations, on the other hand, though\nsometimes roused to strong but transient enthusiasm, are habitually\nsingularly narrow, unappreciative, and unsympathetic. The great source of\ntheir national virtue is the sense of duty, the power of pursuing a course\nwhich they believe to be right, independently of all considerations of\nsympathy or favour, of enthusiasm or success. Other nations have far\nsurpassed them in many qualities that are beautiful, and in some qualities\nthat are great. It is the merit of the Anglo-Saxon race that beyond all\nothers it has produced men of the stamp of a Washington or a Hampden; men\ncareless, indeed, for glory, but very careful of honour; who made the\nsupreme majesty of moral rectitude the guiding principle of their lives,\nwho proved in the most trying circumstances that no allurements of\nambition, and no storms of passion, could cause them to deviate one hair\u2019s\nbreadth from the course they believed to be their duty. This was also a\nRoman characteristic\u2014especially that of Marcus Aurelius. The unweary,\nunostentatious, and inglorious crusade of England against slavery may\nprobably be regarded as among the three or four perfectly virtuous pages\ncomprised in the history of nations.\n\nAlthough it cannot be said that any virtue is the negation of another, it\nis undoubtedly true that virtues are naturally grouped according to\nprinciples of affinity or congruity, which are essential to the unity of\nthe type. The heroical, the amiable, the industrial, the intellectual\nvirtues form in this manner distinct groups; and in some cases the\ndevelopment of one group is incompatible, not indeed with the existence,\nbut with the prominence of others. Content cannot be the leading virtue in\na society animated by an intense industrial spirit, nor submission nor\ntolerance of injuries in a society formed upon a military type, nor\nintellectual virtues in a society where a believing spirit is made the\nessential of goodness, yet each of these conditions is the special sphere\nof some particular class of virtues. The distinctive beauty of a moral\ntype depends not so much on the elements of which it is composed, as on\nthe proportions in which those elements are combined. The characters of\nSocrates, of Cato, of Bayard, of F\u00e9nelon, and of St. Francis are all\nbeautiful, but they differ generically, and not simply in degrees of\nexcellence. To endeavour to impart to Cato the distinctive charm of St.\nFrancis, or to St. Francis that of Cato, would be as absurd as to\nendeavour to unite in a single statue the beauties of the Apollo and the\nLaocoon, or in a single landscape the beauties of the twilight and of the\nmeridian sun. Take away pride from the ancient Stoic or the modern\nEnglishman, and you would have destroyed the basis of many of his noblest\nvirtues, but humility was the very principle and root of the moral\nqualities of the monk. There is no quality virtuous in a woman that is not\nalso virtuous in a man, yet that disposition or hierarchy of virtues which\nconstitutes a perfect woman would be wholly unsuited for a perfect man.\nThe moral is in this respect like the physical type. The beauty of man is\nnot the beauty of woman, nor the beauty of the child as the beauty of the\nadult, nor the beauty of an Italian as the beauty of an Englishwoman. All\ntypes of character are not good, as all types of countenance are not\nbeautiful; but there are many distinct casts of goodness, as there are\nmany distinct casts of beauty.\n\nThis most important truth may be stated in a somewhat different form.\nWhenever a man is eminently deficient in any virtue, it, of course,\nfollows that his character is imperfect, but it does not necessarily\nfollow that he is not in other respects moral and virtuous. There is,\nhowever, usually some one virtue, which I may term rudimentary, which is\nbrought forward so prominently before the world, as the first condition of\nmoral excellence, that it may be safely inferred that a man who has\nabsolutely neglected it is entirely indifferent to moral culture.\nRudimentary virtues vary in different ages, nations, and classes. Thus, in\nthe great republics of antiquity patriotism was rudimentary, for it was so\nassiduously cultivated, that it appeared at once the most obvious and the\nmost essential of duties. Among ourselves much private virtue may co-exist\nwith complete indifference to national interests. In the monastic period,\nand in a somewhat different form in the age of chivalry, a spirit of\nreverential obedience was rudimentary, and the basis of all moral\nprogress; but we may now frequently find a good man without it, his moral\nenergies having been cultivated in other directions. Common truthfulness\nand honesty, as I have already said, are rudimentary virtues in industrial\nsocieties, but not in others. Chastity, in England at least, is a\nrudimentary female virtue, but scarcely a rudimentary virtue among men,\nand it has not been in all ages, and is not now in all countries,\nrudimentary among women. There is no more important task devolving upon a\nmoral historian, than to discover in each period the rudimentary virtue,\nfor it regulates in a great degree the position assigned to all others.\n\nFrom the considerations I have urged, it will appear that there is\nconsiderable danger in proposing too absolutely a single character,\nhowever admirable, as the model to which all men must necessarily conform.\nA character may be perfect in its own kind, but no character can possibly\nembrace all types of perfection; for, as we have seen, the perfection of a\ntype depends not only upon the virtues that constitute it, but also upon\nthe order and prominence assigned to them. All that can be expected in an\nideal is, that it should be perfect of its own kind, and should exhibit\nthe type most needed in its age, and most widely useful to mankind. The\nChristian type is the glorification of the amiable, as the Stoic type was\nthat of the heroic qualities, and this is one of the reasons why\nChristianity is so much more fitted than Stoicism to preside over\ncivilisation, for the more society is organised and civilised, the greater\nis the scope for the amiable, and the less for the heroic qualities.\n\nThe history of that moral intolerance which endeavours to reduce all\ncharacters to a single type has never, I think, been examined as it\ndeserves, and I shall frequently have occasion to advert to it in the\nfollowing pages. No one can have failed to observe how common it is for\nmen to make their own tastes or excellences the measure of all goodness,\npronouncing all that is broadly different from them to be imperfect or\nlow, or of a secondary value. And this, which is usually attributed to\nvanity, is probably in most cases much more due to feebleness of\nimagination, to the difficulty most men have in conceiving in their minds\nan order of character fundamentally different from their own. A good man\ncan usually sympathise much more with a very imperfect character of his\nown type than with a far more perfect one of a different type. To this\ncause, quite as much as to historical causes or occasional divergences of\ninterest, may be traced the extreme difficulty of effecting cordial\ninternational friendships, especially in those cases when a difference of\nrace coincides with the difference of nationality. Each nation has a\ndistinct type of excellence, each esteems the virtues in which it excels,\nand in which its neighbours are often most deficient, incomparably the\ngreatest. Each regards with especial antipathy the vices from which it is\nmost free, and to which its neighbours maybe most addicted. Hence arises a\nmingled feeling of contempt and dislike, from which the more enlightened\nminds are, indeed, soon emancipated, but which constitutes the popular\nsentiment.\n\nThe type of character of every individual depends partly upon innate\ntemperament and partly upon external circumstances. A warlike, a refined,\nan industrial society each evokes and requires its specific qualities, and\nproduces its appropriate type. If a man of a different type arise\u2014if, for\nexample, a man formed by nature to exhibit to the highest perfection the\nvirtues of gentleness or meekness, be born in the midst of a fierce\nmilitary society\u2014he will find no suitable scope for action, he will jar\nwith his age, and his type will be regarded with disfavour. And the effect\nof this opposition is not simply that he will not be appreciated as he\ndeserves, he will also never succeed in developing his own distinctive\nvirtues as they would have been developed under other circumstances.\nEverything will be against him\u2014the force of education, the habits of\nsociety, the opinions of mankind, even his own sense of duty. All the\nhighest models of excellence about him being formed on a different type,\nhis very efforts to improve his being will dull the qualities in which\nnature intended him to excel. If, on the other hand, a man with naturally\nheroic qualities be born in a society which pre-eminently values heroism,\nhe will not only be more appreciated, he will also, under the concurrence\nof favourable circumstances, carry his heroism to a far higher point than\nwould otherwise have been possible. Hence changing circumstances produce\nchanging types, and hence, too, the possibility of moral history and the\nnecessity of uniting it with general history. Religions, considered as\nmoral teachers, are realised and effective only when their moral teaching\nis in conformity with the tendency of their age. If any part of it is not\nso, that part will be either openly abandoned, or refined away, or tacitly\nneglected. Among the ancients, the co-existence of the Epicurean and\nStoical schools, which offered to the world two entirely different\narchetypes of virtue, secured in a very remarkable manner the recognition\nof different kinds of excellence; for although each of these schools often\nattained a pre-eminence, neither ever succeeded in wholly destroying or\ndiscrediting the other.\n\nOf the two elements that compose the moral condition of mankind, our\ngeneralised knowledge is almost restricted to one. We know much of the\nways in which political, social, or intellectual causes act upon\ncharacter, but scarcely anything of the laws that govern innate\ndisposition, of the reasons and extent of the natural moral diversities of\nindividuals or races. I think, however, that most persons who reflect upon\nthe subject will conclude that the progress of medicine, revealing the\nphysical causes of different moral predispositions, is likely to place a\nvery large measure of knowledge on this point within our reach. Of all the\ngreat branches of human knowledge, medicine is that in which the\naccomplished results are most obviously imperfect and provisional, in\nwhich the field of unrealised possibilities is most extensive, and from\nwhich, if the human mind were directed to it, as it has been during the\npast century to locomotive and other industrial inventions, the most\nsplendid results might be expected. Our almost absolute ignorance of the\ncauses of some of the most fatal diseases, and the empirical nature of\nnearly all our best medical treatment, have been often recognised. The\nmedicine of inhalation is still in its infancy, and yet it is by\ninhalation that Nature produces most of her diseases, and effects most of\nher cures. The medical power of electricity, which of all known agencies\nbears most resemblance to life, is almost unexplored. The discovery of\nan\u00e6sthetics has in our own day opened out a field of inestimable\nimportance, and the proved possibility, under certain physical conditions,\nof governing by external suggestions the whole current of the feelings and\nemotions, may possibly contribute yet further to the alleviation of\nsuffering, and perhaps to that euthanasia which Bacon proposed to\nphysicians as an end of their art. But in the eyes both of the\nphilanthropist and of the philosopher, the greatest of all results to be\nexpected in this, or perhaps any other field, are, I conceive, to be\nlooked for in the study of the relations between our physical and our\nmoral natures. He who raises moral pathology to a science, expanding,\nsystematising, and applying many fragmentary observations that have been\nalready made, will probably take a place among the master intellects of\nmankind. The fastings and bleedings of the medi\u00e6val monk, the medicines\nfor allaying or stimulating the sensual passions, the treatment of nervous\ndiseases, the moral influences of insanity and of castration, the\nresearches of phrenology, the moral changes that accompany the successive\nstages of physical developments, the instances of diseases which have\naltered, sometimes permanently, the whole complexion of the character, and\nhave acted through the character upon all the intellectual judgments,(147)\nare examples of the kind of facts with which such a science would deal.\nMind and body are so closely connected that even those who most earnestly\nprotest against materialism readily admit that each acts continually upon\nthe other. The sudden emotion that quickens the pulse, and blanches or\nflushes the cheek, and the effect of fear in predisposing to an epidemic,\nare familiar instances of the action of the mind upon the body, and the\nmore powerful and permanent influence of the body upon the disposition is\nattested by countless observations. It is probable that this action\nextends to all parts of our moral constitution, that every passion or\ncharacteristic tendency has a physical predisposing cause, and that if we\nwere acquainted with these, we might treat by medicine the many varieties\nof moral disease as systematically as we now treat physical disease. In\naddition to its incalculable practical importance, such knowledge would\nhave a great philosophical value, throwing a new light upon the filiation\nof our moral qualities, enabling us to treat exhaustively the moral\ninfluence of climate, and withdrawing the great question of the influence\nof race from the impressions of isolated observers to place it on the firm\nbasis of experiment. It would thus form the complement to the labours of\nthe historian.\n\nSuch discoveries are, however, perhaps far from attainment, and their\ndiscussion does not fall within the compass of this work. My present\nobject is simply to trace the action of external circumstances upon\nmorals, to examine what have been the moral types proposed as ideal in\ndifferent ages, in what degree they have been realised in practice, and by\nwhat causes they have been modified, impaired, or destroyed.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. THE PAGAN EMPIRE.\n\n\nOne of the first facts that must strike a student who examines the ethical\nteaching of the ancient civilisations is how imperfectly that teaching was\nrepresented, and how feebly it was influenced by the popular creed. The\nmoral ideas had at no time been sought in the actions of the gods, and\nlong before the triumph of Christianity, polytheism had ceased to have any\ngreat influence upon the more cultivated intellects of mankind.\n\nIn Greece we may trace from the earliest time the footsteps of a religion\nof nature, wholly different from the legends of the mythology. The\nlanguage in which the first Greek dramatists asserted the supreme\nauthority and universal providence of Zeus was so emphatic, that the\nChristian Fathers commonly attributed it either to direct inspiration or\nto a knowledge of the Jewish writings, while later theologians of the\nschool of Cudworth have argued from it in favour of the original\nmonotheism of our race. The philosophers were always either contemptuous\nor hostile to the prevailing legends. Pythagoras is said to have declared\nthat he had seen Hesiod tied to a brazen pillar in hell, and Homer hung\nupon a tree surrounded by serpents, on account of the fables they had\ninvented about the gods.(148) Plato, for the same reason, banished the\npoets from his republic. Stilpo turned to ridicule the whole system of\nsacrifices,(149) and was exiled from Athens for denying that the Athene of\nPhidias was a goddess.(150) Xenophanes remarked that each nation\nattributed to the gods its distinctive national type, the gods of the\n\u00c6thiopians being black, the gods of the Thracians fair and blue-eyed.(151)\nDiagoras and Theodorus are said to have denied, and Protagoras to have\nquestioned the existence of the gods,(152) while the Epicureans deemed\nthem wholly indifferent to human affairs, and the Pyrrhonists pronounced\nour faculties absolutely incapable of attaining any sure knowledge, either\nhuman or divine. The Cynic Antisthenes said that there were many popular\ngods, but there was only one god of nature.(153) The Stoics, reproducing\nan opinion which was supported by Aristotle and attributed to\nPythagoras,(154) believed in an all-pervading soul of nature, but unlike\nsome modern schools which have adopted this view, they asserted in\nemphatic language the doctrine of Providence, and the self-consciousness\nof the Deity.\n\nIn the Roman republic and empire, a general scepticism had likewise arisen\namong the philosophers as the first fruit of intellectual development, and\nthe educated classes were speedily divided between avowed or virtual\natheists, like the Epicureans,(155) and pure theists, like the Stoics and\nthe Platonists. The first, represented by such writers as Lucretius and\nPetronius, regarded the gods simply as the creations of fear, denied every\nform of Providence, attributed the world to a concurrence of atoms, and\nlife to spontaneous generation, and regarded it as the chief end of\nphilosophy to banish as illusions of the imagination every form of\nreligious belief. The others formed a more or less pantheistic conception\nof the Deity, asserted the existence of a Providence,(156) but treated\nwith great contempt the prevailing legends which they endeavoured in\nvarious ways to explain. The first systematic theory of explanation\nappears to have been that of the Sicilian Euhemerus, whose work was\ntranslated by Ennius. He pretended that the gods were originally kings,\nwhose history and genealogies he professed to trace, and who after death\nhad been deified by mankind.(157) Another attempt, which in the first\nperiod of Roman scepticism was more generally popular, was that of some of\nthe Stoics, who regarded the gods as personifications of the different\nattributes of the Deity, or of different forces of nature. Thus Neptune\nwas the sea, Pluto was fire, Hercules represented the strength of God,\nMinerva His wisdom, Ceres His fertilising energy.(158) More than a hundred\nyears before the Empire, Varro had declared that \u201cthe soul of the world is\nGod, and that its parts are true divinities.\u201d(159) Virgil and Manilius\ndescribed, in lines of singular beauty, that universal spirit, the\nprinciple of all life, the efficient cause of all motion, which permeates\nand animates the globe. Pliny said that \u201cthe world and sky, in whose\nembrace all things are enclosed, must be deemed a god, eternal, immense,\nnever begotten, and never to perish. To seek things beyond this is of no\nprofit to man, and they transcend the limits of his faculties.\u201d(160)\nCicero had adopted the higher Platonic conception of the Deity as mind\nfreed from all taint of matter,(161) while Seneca celebrated in\nmagnificent language \u201cJupiter the guardian and ruler of the universe, the\nsoul and spirit, the lord and master of this mundane sphere, ... the cause\nof causes, upon whom all things hang.... Whose wisdom oversees the world\nthat it may move uncontrolled in its course, ... from whom all things\nproceed, by whose spirit we live, ... who comprises all we see.\u201d(162)\nLucan, the great poet of stoicism, rose to a still higher strain, and to\none which still more accurately expressed the sentiments of his school,\nwhen he described Jupiter as that majestic, all-pervasive spirit, whose\nthrone is virtue and the universe.(163) Quintilian defended the\nsubjugation of the world beneath the sceptre of a single man, on the\nground that it was an image of the government of God. Other philosophers\ncontented themselves with asserting the supreme authority of Jupiter\nMaximus, and reducing the other divinities to mere administrative and\nangelic functions, or, as the Platonists expressed it, to the position of\nd\u00e6mons. According to some of the Stoics, a final catastrophe would consume\nthe universe, the resuscitated spirits of men and all these minor gods,\nand the whole creation being absorbed into the great parent spirit, God\nwould be all in all. The very children and old women ridiculed Cerberus\nand the Furies(164) or treated them as mere metaphors of conscience.(165)\nIn the deism of Cicero the popular divinities were discarded, the oracles\nrefuted and ridiculed, the whole system of divination pronounced a\npolitical imposture, and the genesis of the miraculous traced to the\nexuberance of the imagination, and to certain diseases of the\njudgment.(166) Before the time of Constantine, numerous books had been\nwritten against the oracles.(167) The greater number of these had actually\nceased, and the ablest writers justly saw in this cessation an evidence of\nthe declining credulity of the people, and a proof that the oracles had\nbeen a fruit of that credulity.(168) The Stoics, holding, as was their\ncustom, aloof from direct religious discussion, dissuaded their disciples\nfrom consulting them, on the ground that the gifts of fortune were of no\naccount, and that a good man should be content with his conscience, making\nduty and not success the object of his life.(169) Cato wondered that two\naugurs could meet with gravity.(170) The Roman general Sertorius made the\nforgery of auspicious omens a continual resource in warfare.(171) The\nRoman wits made divination the favourite subject of their ridicule.(172)\nThe denunciation which the early Greek moralists launched against the\npopular ascription of immoral deeds to the gods was echoed by a long\nseries of later philosophers,(173) while Ovid made these fables the theme\nof his mocking _Metamorphoses_, and in his most immoral poem proposed\nJupiter as a model of vice. With an irony not unlike that of Isaiah,\nHorace described the carpenter deliberating whether he should convert a\nshapeless log into a bench or into a god.(174) Cicero, Plutarch, Maximus\nof Tyre, and Dion Chrysostom either denounced idolatry or defended the use\nof images simply on the ground that they were signs and symbols of the\nDeity,(175) well suited to aid the devotions of the ignorant. Seneca(176)\nand the whole school of Pythagoras objected to the sacrifices.\n\nThese examples will be sufficient to show how widely the philosophic\nclasses in Rome were removed from the professed religion of the State, and\nhow necessary it is to seek elsewhere the sources of their moral life. But\nthe opinions of learned men never reflect faithfully those of the vulgar,\nand the chasm between the two classes was even wider than at present\nbefore the dawn of Christianity and the invention of printing. The\natheistic enthusiasm of Lucretius and the sceptical enthusiasm of some of\nthe disciples of Carneades were isolated phenomena, and the great majority\nof the ancient philosophers, while speculating with the utmost freedom in\nprivate, or in writings that were read by the few, countenanced,\npractised, and even defended the religious rites that they despised. It\nwas believed that many different paths adapted to different nations and\ngrades of knowledge converge to the same Divinity, and that the most\nerroneous religion is good if it forms good dispositions and inspires\nvirtuous actions. The oracle of Delphi had said that the best religion is\nthat of a man\u2019s own city. Polybius and Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who\nregarded all religions simply as political agencies, dilated in rapturous\nterms upon the devotion of the Romans and the comparative purity of their\ncreed.(177) Varro openly professed the belief that there are religious\ntruths which it is expedient that the people should not know, and\nfalsehoods which they should believe to be true.(178) The Academic Cicero\nand the Epicurean C\u00e6sar were both high officers of religion. The Stoics\ntaught that every man should duly perform the religious ceremonies of his\ncountry.(179)\n\nBut the Roman religion, even in its best days, though an admirable system\nof moral discipline, was never an independent source of moral enthusiasm.\nIt was the creature of the State, and derived its inspiration from\npolitical feeling. The Roman gods were not, like those of the Greeks, the\ncreations of an unbridled and irreverent fancy, nor, like those of the\nEgyptians, representations of the forces of nature; they were for the most\npart simple allegories, frigid personifications of different virtues, or\npresiding spirits imagined for the protection of different departments of\nindustry. The religion established the sanctity of an oath, it gave a kind\nof official consecration to certain virtues, and commemorated special\ninstances in which they had been displayed; its local character\nstrengthened patriotic feeling, its worship of the dead fostered a vague\nbelief in the immortality of the soul,(180) it sustained the supremacy of\nthe father in the family, surrounded marriage with many imposing\nsolemnities, and created simple and reverent characters profoundly\nsubmissive to an over-ruling Providence and scrupulously observant of\nsacred rites. But with all this it was purely selfish. It was simply a\nmethod of obtaining prosperity, averting calamity, and reading the future.\nAncient Rome produced many heroes, but no saint. Its self-sacrifice was\npatriotic, not religious. Its religion was neither an independent teacher\nnor a source of inspiration, although its rites mingled with and\nstrengthened some of the best habits of the people.\n\nBut these habits, and the religious reverence with which they were\nconnected, soon disappeared amid the immorality and decomposition that\nmarked the closing years of the Republic and the dawn of the Empire. The\nstern simplicity of life, which the censors had so zealously and often so\ntyrannically enforced,(181) was exchanged for a luxury which first\nappeared after the return of the army of Manlius from Asia,(182) increased\nto immense proportions after the almost simultaneous conquests of\nCarthage, Corinth, and Macedonia,(183) received an additional stimulus\nfrom the example of Antony,(184) and at last, under the Empire, rose to\nexcesses which the wildest Oriental orgies have never surpassed.(185) The\ncomplete subversion of the social and political system of the Republic,\nthe anarchy of civil war, the ever-increasing concourse of strangers,\nbringing with them new philosophies, customs, and gods, had dissolved or\neffaced all the old bonds of virtue. The simple juxtaposition of many\nforms of worship effected what could not have been effected by the most\nsceptical literature or the most audacious philosophy. The moral influence\nof religion was almost annihilated. The feeling of reverence was almost\nextinct. Augustus solemnly degraded the statue of Neptune because his\nfleet had been wrecked.(186) When Germanicus died, the populace stoned or\noverthrew the altars of the gods.(187) The idea of sanctity was so far\nremoved from the popular divinities that it became a continual complaint\nthat prayers were offered which the most depraved would blush to pronounce\naloud.(188) Amid the corruption of the Empire, we meet with many noble\nefforts of reform made by philosophers or by emperors, but we find\nscarcely a trace of the moral influence of the old religion. The\napotheosis of the emperors consummated its degradation. The foreign gods\nwere identified with those of Rome, and all their immoral legends\nassociated with the national creed.(189) The theatre greatly extended the\narea of scepticism. Cicero mentions the assenting plaudits with which the\npeople heard the lines of Ennius, declaring that the gods, though real\nbeings, take no care for the things of man.(190) Plutarch tells of a\nspectator at a theatre rising up with indignation after a recital of the\ncrimes of Diana, and exclaiming to the actor, \u201cMay you have a daughter\nlike her whom you have described!\u201d(191) St. Augustine and other of the\nFathers long after ridiculed the pagans who satirised in the theatres the\nvery gods they worshipped in the temples.(192) Men were still profoundly\nsuperstitious, but they resorted to each new religion as to a charm or\ntalisman of especial power, or a system of magic revealing the future.\nThere existed, too, to a very large extent, a kind of superstitious\nscepticism which occupies a very prominent place in religious history.\nThere were multitudes who, declaring that there were no gods, or that the\ngods never interfered with human affairs, professed with the same breath\nan absolute faith in all portents, auguries, dreams, and miracles.\nInnumerable natural objects, such as comets, meteors, earthquakes, or\nmonstrous births, were supposed to possess a kind of occult or magical\nvirtue, by which they foreshadowed, and in some cases influenced, the\ndestinies of men. Astrology, which is the special representative of this\nmode of thought, rose to great prominence. The elder Pliny notices that in\nhis time a belief was rapidly gaining ground, both among the learned and\namong the vulgar, that the whole destiny of man is determined by the star\nthat presides over his nativity; that God, having ordained this, never\ninterferes with human affairs, and that the reality of the portents is due\nto this pre-ordainment.(193) One of the later historians of the Empire\nremarks that numbers who denied the existence of any divinity believed\nnevertheless that they could not safely appear in public, or eat or bathe,\nunless they had first carefully consulted the almanac to ascertain the\nposition of the planet Mercury, or how far the moon was from the\nCrab.(194) Except, perhaps, among the peasants in the country districts,\nthe Roman religion, in the last years of the Republic, and in the first\ncentury of the Empire, scarcely existed, except in the state of a\nsuperstition, and he who would examine the true moral influence of the\ntime must turn to the great schools of philosophy which had been imported\nfrom Greece.\n\nThe vast place which the rival systems of Zeno and Epicurus occupy in the\nmoral history of mankind, and especially in the closing years of the\nempire of paganism, may easily lead us to exaggerate the creative genius\nof their founders, who, in fact, did little more than give definitions or\nintellectual expression to types of excellence that had at all times\nexisted in the world. There have ever been stern, upright,\nself-controlled, and courageous men, actuated by a pure sense of duty,\ncapable of high efforts of self-sacrifice, somewhat intolerant of the\nfrailties of others, somewhat hard and unsympathising in the ordinary\nintercourse of society, but rising to heroic grandeur as the storm lowered\nupon their path, and more ready to relinquish life than the cause they\nbelieved to be true. There have also always been men of easy tempers and\nof amiable disposition, gentle, benevolent, and pliant, cordial friends\nand forgiving enemies, selfish at heart, yet ever ready, when it is\npossible, to unite their gratifications with those of others, averse to\nall enthusiasm, mysticism, utopias, and superstition, with little depth of\ncharacter or capacity for self-sacrifice, but admirably fitted to impart\nand to receive enjoyment, and to render the course of life easy and\nharmonious. The first are by nature Stoics, and the second Epicureans, and\nif they proceed to reason about the _summum bonum_ or the affections, it\nis more than probable that in each case their characters will determine\ntheir theories. The first will estimate self-control above all other\nqualities, will disparage the affections, and will endeavour to separate\nwidely the ideas of duty and of interest, while the second will\nsystematically prefer the amiable to the heroic, and the utilitarian to\nthe mystical.\n\nBut while it is undoubtedly true that in these matters character usually\ndetermines opinion, it is not less true that character is itself in a\ngreat measure governed by national circumstances. The refined, artistic,\nsensual civilisations of Greece and Asia Minor might easily produce fine\nexamples of the Epicurean type, but Rome was from the earliest times\npre-eminently the home of stoicism. Long before the Romans had begun to\nreason about philosophy, they had exhibited it in action, and in their\nspeculative days it was to this doctrine that the noblest minds naturally\ntended. A great nation engaged in perpetual wars in an age when success in\nwarfare depended neither upon wealth nor upon mechanical genius, but upon\nthe constant energy of patriotic enthusiasm, and upon the unflinching\nmaintenance of military discipline, the whole force of the national\ncharacter tended to the production of a single definite type. In the\nabsolute authority accorded to the father over the children, to the\nhusband over the wife, to the master over the slave, we may trace the same\nhabits of discipline that proved so formidable in the field. Patriotism\nand military honour were indissolubly connected in the Roman mind. They\nwere the two sources of national enthusiasm, the chief ingredients of the\nnational conception of greatness. They determined irresistibly the moral\ntheory which was to prove supreme.\n\nNow war, which brings with it so many demoralising influences, has, at\nleast, always been the great school of heroism. It teaches men how to die.\nIt familiarises the mind with the idea of noble actions performed under\nthe influence, not of personal interest, but of honour and of enthusiasm.\nIt elicits in the highest degree strength of character, accustoms men to\nthe abnegation needed for simultaneous action, compels them to repress\ntheir fears, and establish a firm control over their affections.\nPatriotism, too, leads them to subordinate their personal wishes to the\ninterests of the society in which they live. It extends the horizon of\nlife, teaching men to dwell among the great men of the past, to derive\ntheir moral strength from the study of heroic lives, to look forward\ncontinually, through the vistas of a distant future, to the welfare of an\norganisation which will continue when they have passed away. All these\ninfluences were developed in Roman life to a degree which can now never be\nreproduced. War, for the reasons I have stated, was far more than at\npresent the school of heroic virtues. Patriotism, in the absence of any\nstrong theological passion, had assumed a transcendent power. The citizen,\npassing continually from political to military life, exhibited to\nperfection the moral effects of both. The habits of command formed by a\nlong period of almost universal empire, and by the aristocratic\norganisation of the city, contributed to the elevation, and also to the\npride, of the national character.\n\nIt will appear, I think, sufficiently evident, from these considerations,\nthat the circumstances of the Roman people tended inevitably to the\nproduction of a certain type of character, which, in its essential\ncharacteristics, was the type of stoicism. In addition to the\npredisposition which leads men in their estimate of the comparative\nexcellence of different qualities to select for the highest eulogy those\nwhich are most congruous to their own characters, this fact derives a\ngreat importance from the large place which the biographical element\noccupied in ancient ethical teaching. Among Christians the ideals have\ncommonly been either supernatural beings or men who were in constant\nconnection with supernatural beings, and these men have usually been\neither Jews or saints, whose lives were of such a nature as to isolate\nthem from most human sympathies, and to efface as far as possible the\nnational type. Among the Greeks and Romans the examples of virtue were\nusually their own fellow-countrymen; men who had lived in the same moral\natmosphere, struggled for the same ends, acquired their reputation in the\nsame spheres, exhibited in all their intensity the same national\ncharacteristics as their admirers. History had assumed a didactic\ncharacter it has now almost wholly lost. One of the first tasks of every\nmoralist was to collect traits of character illustrating the precepts he\nenforced. Valerius Maximus represented faithfully the method of the\nteachers of antiquity when he wrote his book giving a catalogue of\ndifferent moral qualities, and illustrating each by a profusion of\nexamples derived from the history of his own or of foreign nations.\n\n\u201cWhenever,\u201d said Plutarch, \u201cwe begin an enterprise, or take possession of\na charge, or experience a calamity, we place before our eyes the example\nof the greatest men of our own or of bygone ages, and we ask ourselves how\nPlato or Epaminondas, Lycurgus or Agesilaus, would have acted. Looking\ninto these personages as into a faithful mirror, we can remedy our defects\nin word or deed.... Whenever any perplexity arrives, or any passion\ndisturbs the mind, the student of philosophy pictures to himself some of\nthose who have been celebrated for their virtue, and the recollection\nsustains his tottering steps and prevents his fall.\u201d(195)\n\nPassages of this kind continually occur in the ancient moralists,(196) and\nthey show how naturally the highest type of national excellence determined\nthe prevailing school of moral philosophy, and also how the influence of\nthe heroic period of national history would act upon the best minds in the\nsubsequent and wholly different phases of development. It was therefore\nnot surprising that during the Empire, though the conditions of national\nlife were profoundly altered, Stoicism should still be the philosophical\nreligion, the great source and regulator of moral enthusiasm. Epicureanism\nhad, indeed, spread widely in the Empire,(197) but it proved little more\nthan a principle of disintegration or an apology for vice, or at best the\nreligion of tranquil and indifferent natures animated by no strong moral\nenthusiasm. It is indeed true that Epicurus had himself been a man of the\nmost blameless character, that his doctrines were at first carefully\ndistinguished from the coarse sensuality of the Cyrenaic school which had\npreceded them, that they admitted in theory almost every form of virtue,\nand that the school had produced many disciples who, if they had not\nattained the highest grades of excellence, had at least been men of\nharmless lives, intensely devoted to their master, and especially noted\nfor the warmth and constancy of their friendships.(198) But a school which\nplaced so high a value on ease and pleasure was eminently unfit to\nstruggle against the fearful difficulties that beset the teachers of\nvirtue amid the anarchy of a military despotism, and the virtues and the\nvices of the Romans were alike fatal to its success. All the great ideals\nof Roman excellence belonged to a different type. Such men as a Decius or\na Regulus would have been impossible in an Epicurean society, for even if\ntheir actuating emotion were no nobler than a desire for posthumous fame,\nsuch a desire could never grow powerful in a moral atmosphere charged with\nthe shrewd, placid, unsentimental utilitarianism of Epicurus. On the other\nhand, the distinctions the Epicureans had drawn between more or less\nrefined pleasures and their elevated conceptions of what constitutes the\ntrue happiness of men, were unintelligible to the Romans, who knew how to\nsacrifice enjoyment, but who, when pursuing it, gravitated naturally to\nthe coarsest forms. The mission of Epicureanism was therefore chiefly\nnegative. The anti-patriotic tendency of its teaching contributed to that\ndestruction of national feeling which was necessary to the rise of\ncosmopolitanism, while its strong opposition to theological beliefs,\nsupported by the genius and enthusiasm of Lucretius, told powerfully upon\nthe decaying faith.\n\nSuch being the functions of Epicureanism, the constructive or positive\nside of ethical teaching devolved almost exclusively upon Stoicism; for\nalthough there were a few philosophers who expressed themselves in strong\nopposition to some portions of the Stoical system, their efforts usually\ntended to no more than a modification of its extreme and harshest\nfeatures. The Stoics asserted two cardinal principles\u2014that virtue was the\nsole legitimate object to be aspired to, and that it involved so complete\nan ascendancy of the reason as altogether to extinguish the affections.\nThe Peripatetics and many other philosophers, who derived their opinions\nchiefly from Plato, endeavoured to soften down the exaggeration of these\nprinciples. They admitted that virtue was an object wholly distinct from\ninterest, and that it should be the leading motive of life; but they\nmaintained that happiness was also a good, and a certain regard for it\nlegitimate. They admitted that virtue consisted in the supremacy of the\nreason over the affections, but they allowed the exercise of the latter\nwithin restricted limits. The main distinguishing features, however, of\nStoicism, the unselfish ideal and the controlling reason, were acquiesced\nin, and each represents an important side of the ancient conception of\nexcellence which we must now proceed to examine.\n\nIn the first we may easily trace the intellectual expression of the high\nspirit of self-sacrifice which the patriotic enthusiasm had elicited. The\nspirit of patriotism has this peculiar characteristic, that, while it has\nevoked acts of heroism which are both very numerous and very sublime, it\nhas done so without presenting any prospect of personal immortality as a\nreward. Of all the forms of human heroism, it is probably the most\nunselfish. The Spartan and the Roman died for his country because he loved\nit. The martyr\u2019s ecstasy of hope had no place in his dying hour. He gave\nup all he had, he closed his eyes, as he believed, for ever, and he asked\nfor no reward in this world or in the next. Even the hope of posthumous\nfame\u2014the most refined and supersensual of all that can be called\nreward\u2014could exist only for the most conspicuous leaders. It was examples\nof this nature that formed the culminations or ideals of ancient systems\nof virtue, and they naturally led men to draw a very clear and deep\ndistinction between the notions of interest and of duty. It may, indeed,\nbe truly said, that while the conception of what constituted duty was\noften very imperfect in antiquity, the conviction that duty, as\ndistinguished from every modification of selfishness, should be the\nsupreme motive of life was more clearly enforced among the Stoics than in\nany later society.\n\nThe reader will probably have gathered from the last chapter that there\nare four distinct motives which moral teachers may propose for the purpose\nof leading men to virtue. They may argue that the disposition of events is\nsuch that prosperity will attend a virtuous life, and adversity a vicious\none\u2014a proposition they may prove by pointing to the normal course of\naffairs, and by asserting the existence of a special Providence in behalf\nof the good in the present world, and of rewards and punishments in the\nfuture. As far as these latter arguments are concerned, the efficacy of\nsuch teaching rests upon the firmness with which certain theological\ntenets are held, while the force of the first considerations will depend\nupon the degree and manner in which society is organised, for there are\nundoubtedly some conditions of society in which a perfectly upright life\nhas not even a general tendency to prosperity. The peculiar circumstances\nand dispositions of individuals will also influence largely the way in\nwhich they receive such teaching, and, as Cicero observed, \u201cwhat one\nutility has created, another will often destroy.\u201d\n\nThey may argue, again, that vice is to the mind what disease is to the\nbody, and that a state of virtue is in consequence a state of health. Just\nas bodily health is desired for its own sake, as being the absence of a\npainful, or at least displeasing state, so a well-ordered and virtuous\nmind may be valued for its own sake, and independently of all the external\ngood to which it may lead, as being a condition of happiness; and a mind\ndistracted by passion and vice may be avoided, not so much because it is\nan obstacle in the pursuit of prosperity, as because it is in itself\nessentially painful and disturbing. This conception of virtue and vice as\nstates of health or sickness, the one being in itself a good and the other\nin itself an evil, was a fundamental proposition in the ethics of\nPlato.(199) It was admitted, but only to a subsidiary place, by the\nStoics,(200) and has passed more or less into all the succeeding systems.\nIt is especially favourable to large and elevating conceptions of\nself-culture, for it leads men to dwell much less upon isolated acts of\nvirtue or vice than upon the habitual condition of mind from which they\nspring.\n\nIt is possible, in the third place, to argue in favour of virtue by\noffering as a motive that sense of pleasure which follows the deliberate\nperformance of a virtuous act. This emotion is a distinct and isolated\ngratification following a distinct action, and may therefore be easily\nseparated from that habitual placidity of temper which results from the\nextinction of vicious and perturbing impulses. It is this theory which is\nimplied in the common exhortations to enjoy \u2019the luxury of doing good,\u2019\nand though especially strong in acts of benevolence, in which case\nsympathy with the happiness created intensifies the feeling, this pleasure\nattends every kind of virtue.\n\nThese three motives of action have all this common characteristic, that\nthey point as their ultimate end to the happiness of the agent. The first\nseeks that happiness in external circumstances; the second and third in\npsychological conditions. There is, however, a fourth kind of motive which\nmay be urged, and which is the peculiar characteristic of the intuitive\nschool of moralists and the stumbling-block of its opponents. It is\nasserted that we are so constituted that the notion of duty furnishes in\nitself a natural motive of action of the highest order, wholly distinct\nfrom all the refinements and modifications of self-interest. The coactive\nforce of this motive is altogether independent of surrounding\ncircumstances, and of all forms of belief. It is equally true for the man\nwho believes and for the man who rejects the Christian faith, for the\nbeliever in a future world and for the believer in the mortality of the\nsoul. It is not a question of happiness or unhappiness, of reward or\npunishment, but of a generically different nature. Men feel that a certain\ncourse of life is the natural end of their being, and they feel bound,\neven at the expense of happiness, to pursue it. They feel that certain\nacts are essentially good and noble, and others essentially base and vile,\nand this perception leads them to pursue the one and to avoid the other,\nirrespective of all considerations of enjoyment.\n\nI have recurred to these distinctions, which were more fully discussed in\nthe last chapter, because the school of philosophy we are reviewing\nfurnishes the most perfect of all historical examples of the power which\nthe higher of these motives can exercise over the mind. The coarser forms\nof self-interest were in stoicism absolutely condemned. It was one of the\nfirst principles of these philosophers that all things that are not in our\npower should be esteemed indifferent; that the object of all mental\ndiscipline should be to withdraw the mind from all the gifts of fortune,\nand that prudence must in consequence be altogether excluded from the\nmotives of virtue. To enforce these principles they continually dilated\nupon the vanity of human things, and upon the majesty of the independent\nmind, and they indulged, though scarcely more than other sects, in many\nexaggerations about the impassive tranquillity of the sage.(201) In the\nRoman empire stoicism flourished at a period which, beyond almost any\nother, seemed unfavourable to such teaching. There were reigns when, in\nthe emphatic words of Tacitus, \u201cvirtue was a sentence of death.\u201d In no\nperiod had brute force more completely triumphed, in none was the thirst\nfor material advantages more intense, in very few was vice more\nostentatiously glorified. Yet in the midst of all these circumstances the\nStoics taught a philosophy which was not a compromise, or an attempt to\nmoderate the popular excesses, but which was rather in its austere\nsanctity the extreme antithesis of all that the prevailing examples and\ntheir own interests could dictate. And these men were no impassioned\nfanatics, fired with the prospect of coming glory. They were men from\nwhose motives of action the belief in the immortality of the soul was\nresolutely excluded. In the scepticism that accompanied the first\nintroduction of philosophy into Rome, in the dissolution of the old fables\nabout Tartarus and the Styx, and the dissemination of Epicureanism among\nthe people, this doctrine had sunk very low, notwithstanding the beautiful\nreasonings of Cicero and the religious faith of a few who clung like\nPlutarch to the mysteries in which it was perpetuated. An interlocutor in\nCicero expressed what was probably a common feeling when he acknowledged\nthat, with the writings of Plato before him, he could believe and realise\nit; but when he closed the book, the reasonings seemed to lose their\npower, and the world of spirits grew pale and unreal.(202) If Ennius could\nelicit the plaudits of a theatre when he proclaimed that the gods took no\npart in human affairs, C\u00e6sar could assert in the senate, without scandal\nand almost without dissent, that death was the end of all things.(203)\nPliny, perhaps the greatest of Roman scholars, adopting the sentiment of\nall the school of Epicurus, describes the belief in a future life as a\nform of madness, a puerile and a pernicious illusion.(204) The opinions of\nthe Stoics were wavering and uncertain. Their first doctrine was that the\nsoul of man has a future and independent, but not an eternal existence,\nthat it survives until the last conflagration which was to destroy the\nworld, and absorb all finite things into the all-pervading soul of nature.\nChrysippus, however, restricted to the best and noblest souls this future\nexistence, which Cleanthes had awarded to all,(205) and among the Roman\nStoics even this was greatly doubted. The belief that the human soul is a\ndetached fragment of the Deity naturally led to the belief that after\ndeath it would be reabsorbed into the parent Spirit. The doctrine that\nthere is no real good but virtue deprived the Stoics of the argument for a\nfuture world derived from unrequited merit and unpunished crime, and the\nearnestness with which they contended that a good man should act\nirrespectively of reward inclined them, as it is said to have inclined\nsome Jewish thinkers,(206) to the denial of the existence of the\nreward.(207) Pan\u00e6tius, the founder of Roman stoicism, maintained that the\nsoul perished with the body,(208) and his opinion was followed by\nEpictetus,(209) and Cornutus.(210) Seneca contradicted himself on the\nsubject.(211) Marcus Aurelius never rose beyond a vague and mournful\naspiration. Those who believed in a future world believed in it faintly\nand uncertainly, and even when they accepted it as a fact, they shrank\nfrom proposing it as a motive. The whole system of Stoical ethics, which\ncarried self-sacrifice to a point that has scarcely been equalled, and\nexercised an influence which has rarely been surpassed, was evolved\nwithout any assistance from the doctrine of a future life.(212) Pagan\nantiquity has bequeathed us few nobler treatises of morals than the \u201cDe\nOfficiis\u201d of Cicero, which was avowedly an expansion of a work of\nPan\u00e6tius.(213) It has left us no grander example than that of Epictetus,\nthe sickly, deformed slave of a master who was notorious for his\nbarbarity, enfranchised late in life, but soon driven into exile by\nDomitian; who, while sounding the very abyss of human misery, and looking\nforward to death as to simple decomposition, was yet so filled with the\nsense of the Divine presence that his life was one continued hymn to\nProvidence, and his writings and his example, which appeared to his\ncontemporaries almost the ideal of human goodness, have not lost their\nconsoling power through all the ages and the vicissitudes they have\nsurvived.(214)\n\nThere was, however, another form of immortality which exercised a much\ngreater influence among the Roman moralists. The desire for reputation,\nand especially for posthumous reputation\u2014that \u201clast infirmity of noble\nminds\u201d(215)\u2014assumed an extraordinary prominence among the springs of Roman\nheroism, and was also the origin of that theatrical and overstrained\nphraseology which the greatest of ancient moralists rarely escaped.(216)\nBut we should be altogether in error if we inferred, as some have done,\nthat paganism never rose to the conception of virtue concealing itself\nfrom the world, and consenting voluntarily to degradation. No characters\nwere more highly appreciated in antiquity than those of men who, through a\nsense of duty, opposed the strong current of popular favour; of men like\nFabius, who consented for the sake of their country to incur the\nreputation that is most fatal to a soldier;(217) of men like Cato, who\nremained unmoved among the scoffs, the insults, and the ridicule of an\nangry crowd.(218) Cicero, expounding the principles of Stoicism, declared\nthat no one has attained to true philosophy who has not learnt that all\nvice should be avoided, \u201cthough it were concealed from the eyes of gods\nand men,\u201d(219) and that no deeds are more laudable than those which are\ndone without ostentation, and far from the sight of men.(220) The writings\nof the Stoics are crowded with sentences to the same effect. \u201cNothing for\nopinion, all for conscience.\u201d(221) \u201cHe who wishes his virtue to be blazed\nabroad is not labouring for virtue but for fame.\u201d(222) \u201cNo one is more\nvirtuous than the man who sacrifices the reputation of a good man rather\nthan sacrifice his conscience.\u201d(223) \u201cI do not shrink from praise, but I\nrefuse to make it the end and term of right.\u201d(224) \u201cIf you do anything to\nplease men, you have fallen from your estate.\u201d(225) \u201cEven a bad reputation\nnobly earned is pleasing.\u201d(226) \u201cA great man is not the less great when he\nlies vanquished and prostrate in the dust.\u201d(227) \u201cNever forget that it is\npossible to be at once a divine man, yet a man unknown to all the\nworld.\u201d(228) \u201cThat which is beautiful is beautiful in itself; the praise\nof man adds nothing to its quality.\u201d(229) Marcus Aurelius, following an\nexample that is ascribed to Pythagoras, made it a special object of mental\ndiscipline, by continually meditating on death, and evoking, by an effort\nof the imagination, whole societies that had passed away, to acquire a\nrealised sense of the vanity of posthumous fame. The younger Pliny painted\nfaithfully the ideal of Stoicism when he described one of his friends as a\nman \u201cwho did nothing for ostentation, but all for conscience; who sought\nthe reward of virtue in itself, and not in the praise of man.\u201d(230) Nor\nwere the Stoics less emphatic in distinguishing the obligation from the\nattraction of virtue. It was on this point that they separated from the\nmore refined Epicureans, who were often willing to sublimate to the\nhighest degree the kind of pleasure they proposed as an object, provided\nonly it were admitted that pleasure is necessarily the ultimate end of our\nactions. But this the Stoics firmly denied. \u201cPleasure,\u201d they argued, \u201cis\nthe companion, not the guide, of our course.\u201d(231) \u201cWe do not love virtue\nbecause it gives us pleasure, but it gives us pleasure because we love\nit.\u201d(232) \u201cThe wise man will not sin, though both gods and men should\noverlook the deed, for it is not through the fear of punishment or of\nshame that he abstains from sin. It is from the desire and obligation of\nwhat is just and good.\u201d(233) \u201cTo ask to be paid for virtue is as if the\neye demanded a recompense for seeing, or the feet for walking.\u201d(234) In\ndoing good, man \u201cshould be like the vine which has produced grapes, and\nasks for nothing more after it has produced its proper fruit.\u201d(235) His\nend, according to these teachers, is not to find peace either in life or\nin death. It is to do his duty, and to tell the truth.\n\nThe second distinguishing feature of Stoicism I have noticed was the\ncomplete suppression of the affections to make way for the absolute\nascendancy of reason. There are two great divisions of character\ncorresponding very nearly to the Stoical and Epicurean temperaments I have\ndescribed\u2014that in which the will predominates, and that in which the\ndesires are supreme. A good man of the first class is one whose will,\ndirected by a sense of duty, pursues the course he believes to be right,\nin spite of strong temptations to pursue an opposite course, arising\neither from his own passions and tendencies, or from the circumstances\nthat surround him. A good man of the second class is one who is so happily\nconstituted that his sympathies and desires instinctively tend to virtuous\nends. The first character is the only one to which we can, strictly\nspeaking, attach the idea of merit, and it is also the only one which is\ncapable of rising to high efforts of continuous and heroic self-sacrifice;\nbut on the other hand there is a charm in the spontaneous action of the\nunforced desires which disciplined virtue can perhaps never attain. The\nman who is consistently generous through a sense of duty, when his natural\ntemperament impels him to avarice and when every exercise of benevolence\ncauses him a pang, deserves in the very highest degree our admiration; but\nhe whose generosity costs him no effort, but is the natural gratification\nof his affections, attracts a far larger measure of our love.\nCorresponding to these two casts of character, we find two distinct\ntheories of education, the aim of the one being chiefly to strengthen the\nwill, and that of the other to guide the desires. The principal examples\nof the first are the Spartan and Stoical systems of antiquity, and, with\nsome modifications, the asceticism of the Middle Ages. The object of these\nsystems was to enable men to endure pain, to repress manifest and\nacknowledged desires, to relinquish enjoyments, to establish an absolute\nempire over their emotions. On the other hand, there is a method of\neducation which was never more prevalent than in the present day, which\nexhausts its efforts in making virtue attractive, in associating it with\nall the charms of imagination and of prosperity, and in thus insensibly\ndrawing the desires in the wished-for direction. As the first system is\nespecially suited to a disturbed and military society, which requires and\nelicits strong efforts of the will, and is therefore the special sphere of\nheroic virtues, so the latter belongs naturally to a tranquil and highly\norganised civilisation, which is therefore very favourable to the amiable\nqualities, and it is probable that as civilisation advances, the heroic\ntype will, in consequence, become more and more rare, and a kind of\nself-indulgent goodness more common. The circumstances of the ancient\nsocieties led them to the former type, of which the Stoics furnished the\nextreme expression in their doctrine that the affections are of the nature\nof a disease(236)\u2014a doctrine which they justified by the same kind of\narguments as those which are now often employed by metaphysicians to prove\nthat love, anger, and the like can only be ascribed by a figure of speech\nto the Deity. Perturbation, they contended, is necessarily imperfection,\nand none of its forms can in consequence be ascribed to a perfect being.\nWe have a clear intuitive perception that reason is the highest, and\nshould be the directing, power of an intelligent being; but every act\nwhich is performed at the instigation of the emotions is withdrawn from\nthe empire of reason. Hence it was inferred that while the will should be\neducated to act habitually in the direction of virtue, even the emotions\nthat seem most fitted to second it should be absolutely proscribed. Thus\nSeneca has elaborated at length the distinction between clemency and pity,\nthe first being one of the highest virtues, and the latter a positive\nvice. Clemency, he says, is an habitual disposition to gentleness in the\napplication of punishments. It is that moderation which remits something\nof an incurred penalty, it is the opposite of cruelty, which is an\nhabitual disposition to rigour. Pity, on the other hand, bears to clemency\nthe same kind of relation as superstition to religion. It is the weakness\nof a feeble mind that flinches at the sight of suffering. Clemency is an\nact of judgment, but pity disturbs the judgment. Clemency adjudicates upon\nthe proportion between suffering and guilt. Pity contemplates only\nsuffering, and gives no thought to its cause. Clemency, in the midst of\nits noblest efforts, is perfectly passionless; pity is unreasoning\nemotion. Clemency is an essential characteristic of the sage; pity is only\nsuited for weak women and for diseased minds. \u201cThe sage will console those\nwho weep, but without weeping with them; he will succour the shipwrecked,\ngive hospitality to the proscribed, and alms to the poor, ... restore the\nson to the mother\u2019s tears, save the captive from the arena, and even bury\nthe criminal; but in all this his mind and his countenance will be alike\nuntroubled. He will feel no pity. He will succour, he will do good, for he\nis born to assist his fellows, to labour for the welfare of mankind, and\nto offer to each one his part.... His countenance and his soul will betray\nno emotion as he looks upon the withered legs, the tattered rags, the bent\nand emaciated frame of the beggar. But he will help those who are worthy,\nand, like the gods, his leaning will be towards the wretched.... It is\nonly diseased eyes that grow moist in beholding tears in other eyes, as it\nis no true sympathy, but only weakness of nerves, that leads some to laugh\nalways when others laugh, or to yawn when others yawn.\u201d(237)\n\nCicero, in a sentence which might be adopted as the motto of Stoicism,\nsaid that Homer \u201cattributed human qualities to the gods; it would have\nbeen better to have imparted divine qualities to men.\u201d The remarkable\npassage I have just cited serves to show the extremes to which the Stoics\npushed this imitation. And indeed, if we compare the different virtues\nthat have flourished among Pagans and Christians, we invariably find that\nthe prevailing type of excellence among the former is that in which the\nwill and judgment, and among the latter that in which the emotions, are\nmost prominent. Friendship rather than love, hospitality rather than\ncharity, magnanimity rather than tenderness, clemency rather than\nsympathy, are the characteristics of ancient goodness. The Stoics, who\ncarried the suppression of the emotions farther than any other school,\nlaboured with great zeal to compensate the injury thus done to the\nbenevolent side of our nature, by greatly enlarging the sphere of reasoned\nand passionless philanthropy. They taught, in the most emphatic language,\nthe fraternity of all men, and the consequent duty of each man\nconsecrating his life to the welfare of others. They developed this\ngeneral doctrine in a series of detailed precepts, which, for the range,\ndepth, and beauty of their charity, have never been surpassed. They even\nextended their compassion to crime, and adopting the paradox of Plato,\nthat all guilt is ignorance,(238) treated it as an involuntary disease,\nand declared that the only legitimate ground of punishment is\nprevention.(239) But, however fully they might reconcile in theory their\nprinciples with the widest and most active benevolence, they could not\nwholly counteract the practical evil of a system which declared war\nagainst the whole emotional side of our being, and reduced human virtue to\na kind of majestic egotism; proposing as examples Anaxagoras, who, when\ntold that his son had died, simply observed, \u201cI never supposed that I had\nbegotten an immortal;\u201d(240) or Stilpo, who, when his country had been\nruined, his native city captured, and his daughters carried away as slaves\nor as concubines, boasted that he had lost nothing, for the sage is\nindependent of circumstances. The framework or theory of benevolence might\nbe there, but the animating spirit was absent. Men who taught that the\nhusband or the father should look with perfect indifference on the death\nof his wife or his child, and that the philosopher, though he may shed\ntears of pretended sympathy in order to console his suffering friend, must\nsuffer no real emotion to penetrate his breast,(241) could never found a\ntrue or lasting religion of benevolence. Men who refused to recognise pain\nand sickness as evils were scarcely likely to be very eager to relieve\nthem in others.\n\nIn truth, the Stoics, who taught that all virtue was conformity to nature,\nwere, in this respect, eminently false to their own principle. Human\nnature, as revealed to us by reason, is a composite thing, a constitution\nof many parts differing in kind and dignity, a hierarchy in which many\npowers are intended to co-exist, but in different positions of ascendancy\nor subordination. To make the higher part of our nature our whole nature,\nis not to restore but to mutilate humanity, and this mutilation has never\nbeen attempted without producing grave evils. As philanthropists, the\nStoics, through their passion for unity, were led to the extirpation of\nthose emotions which nature intended as the chief springs of benevolence.\nAs speculative philosophers, they were entangled by the same desire in a\nlong train of pitiable paradoxes. Their famous doctrines that all virtues\nare equal, or, more correctly, are the same, that all vices are equal,\nthat nothing is an evil which does not affect our will, and that pain and\nbereavement are, in consequence, no ills,(242) though partially explained\naway and frequently disregarded by the Roman Stoics, were yet sufficiently\nprominent to give their teaching something of an unnatural and affected\nappearance. Prizing only a single object, and developing only a single\nside of their nature, their minds became narrow and their views\ncontracted. Thus, while the Epicureans, urging men to study nature in\norder to banish superstition, endeavoured to correct that ignorance of\nphysical science which was one of the chief impediments to the progress of\nthe ancient mind, the Stoics for the most part disdained a study which was\nother than the pursuit of virtue.(243) While the Epicurean poet painted in\nmagnificent language the perpetual progress of mankind, the Stoic was\nessentially retrospective, and exhausted his strength in vain efforts to\nrestore the simplicity of a by-gone age. While, too, the school of Zeno\nproduced many of the best and greatest men who have ever lived, it must be\nacknowledged that its records exhibit a rather unusual number of examples\nof high professions falsified in action, and of men who, displaying in\nsome forms the most undoubted and transcendent virtue, fell in others far\nbelow the average of mankind. The elder Cato, who, though not a\nphilosopher, was a model of philosophers, was conspicuous for his\ninhumanity to his slaves.(244) Brutus was one of the most extortionate\nusurers of his time, and several citizens of Salamis died of starvation,\nimprisoned because they could not pay the sum he demanded.(245) No one\neulogised more eloquently the austere simplicity of life which Stoicism\nadvocated than Sallust, who in a corrupt age was notorious for his\nrapacity. Seneca himself was constitutionally a nervous and timid man,\nendeavouring, not always with success, to support himself by a sublime\nphilosophy. He guided, under circumstances of extreme difficulty, the\ncause of virtue, and his death is one of the noblest antiquity records;\nbut his life was deeply marked by the taint of flattery, and not free from\nthe taint of avarice, and it is unhappily certain that he lent his pen to\nconceal or varnish one of the worst crimes of Nero. The courage of Lucan\nfailed signally under torture, and the flattery which he bestowed upon\nNero, in his \u201cPharsalia,\u201d ranks with the Epigrams of Martial as probably\nthe extreme limit of sycophancy to which Roman literature descended.\n\nWhile, too, the main object of the Stoics was to popularise philosophy,\nthe high standard of self-control they exacted rendered their system\nexceedingly unfit for the great majority of mankind, and for the ordinary\ncondition of affairs. Life is history, not poetry. It consists mainly of\nlittle things, rarely illumined by flashes of great heroism, rarely broken\nby great dangers, or demanding great exertions. A moral system, to govern\nsociety, must accommodate itself to common characters and mingled motives.\nIt must be capable of influencing natures that can never rise to an heroic\nlevel. It must tincture, modify, and mitigate where it cannot eradicate or\ntransform. In Christianity there are always a few persons seeking by\ncontinual and painful efforts to reverse or extinguish the ordinary\nfeelings of humanity, but in the great majority of cases the influence of\nthe religious principle upon the mind, though very real, is not of a\nnature to cause any serious strain or struggle. It is displayed in a\ncertain acquired spontaneity of impulse. It softens the character,\npurifies and directs the imagination, blends insensibly with the habitual\nmodes of thought, and, without revolutionising, gives a tone and bias to\nall the forms of action. But Stoicism was simply a school of heroes. It\nrecognised no gradations of virtue or vice. It condemned all emotions, all\nspontaneity, all mingled motives, all the principles, feelings, and\nimpulses upon which the virtue of common men mainly depends. It was\ncapable of acting only on moral natures that were strung to the highest\ntension, and it was therefore naturally rejected by the multitude.\n\nThe central conception of this philosophy of self-control was the dignity\nof man. Pride, which looks within, making man seek his own approbation, as\ndistinguished from vanity, which looks without, and shapes its conduct\naccording to the opinions of others, was not only permitted in Stoicism,\nit was even its leading moral agent. The sense of virtue, as I have\nelsewhere observed, occupies in this system much the same place as the\nsense of sin in Christianity. Sin, in the conception of the ancients, was\nsimply disease, and they deemed it the part of a wise man to correct it,\nbut not to dwell upon its circumstances. In the many disquisitions which\nEpictetus and others have left us concerning the proper frame of mind in\nwhich man should approach death, repentance for past sin has absolutely no\nplace, nor do the ancients appear to have ever realised the purifying and\nspiritualising influence it exercises upon character. And while the\nreality of moral disease was fully recognised, while a lofty and indeed\nunattainable ideal was continually proposed, no one doubted the essential\nexcellence of human nature, and very few doubted the possibility of man\nacquiring by his own will a high degree of virtue. In this last respect\nthere was a wide difference between the teaching of the Roman moralists\nand of the Greek poets.(246) Homer continually represents courage, anger,\nand the like, as the direct inspiration of Heaven. \u00c6schylus, the great\npoet of fatalism, regards every human passion as but a single link in the\ngreat chain of causes forged by the inexorable will of Zeus. There are,\nindeed, few grander things in poetry than his picture of the many and\nvarious motives that urged Clytemnestra to the slaughter of\nAgamemnon\u2014revenge for her murdered daughter, love for \u00c6gisthus, resentment\nat past breaches of conjugal duty, jealousy of Cassandra, all blending in\nthat fierce hatred that nerved her arm against her husband\u2019s life; while\nabove all this tumult of passion the solemn song of Cassandra proclaimed\nthat the deed was but the decree of Heaven, the harvest of blood springing\nfrom the seed of crime, the accomplishment of the ancient curse that was\ndestined to cling for ever to the hapless race of Atreus. Before the body\nof the murdered king, and in presence of the wildest paroxysms of human\npassion, the bystanders bowed their heads, exclaiming, \u201cZeus has willed\nit\u2014Zeus the supreme Ruler, the God who does all; for what can happen in\nthe world without the will of Zeus?\u201d\n\nBut conceptions of this kind had little or no place in the philosophy of\nRome. The issue of human enterprises and the disposition of the gifts of\nfortune were recognised as under the control of Providence; but man was\nmaster of his own feelings, and was capable of attaining such excellence\nthat he might even challenge comparison with the gods. Audacious as such\nsentiments may now appear, they were common to most schools of Roman\nmoralists. \u201cWe boast justly of our own virtue,\u201d said the eclectic Cicero,\n\u201cwhich we could not do if we derived it from the Deity and not from\nourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll mortals judge that fortune is to be received from the gods and wisdom\nfrom ourselves.\u201d(247) The Epicurean Horace, in his noblest ode, described\nthe just man, confident in his virtue, undaunted amid the crash of worlds,\nand he tells us to pray only for those things which Jupiter gives and\ntakes away. \u201cHe gives life, he gives wealth; an untroubled mind I secure\nfor myself.\u201d(248) \u201cThe calm of a mind blest in the consciousness of its\nvirtue,\u201d was the expression of supreme felicity the Epicureans had derived\nfrom their master.(249) Lucretius, in a magnificent passage, designates\nEpicurus as a god, and boasts that the popular divinities dwindle into\ninsignificance before him. Ceres, he says, gave men corn, and Bacchus\nwine, but Epicurus the principles of virtue. Hercules conquered monsters,\nEpicurus conquered vice.(250) \u201cPray,\u201d said Juvenal, \u201cfor a healthy mind in\na healthy body. Ask for a brave soul unscared by death.... But there are\nthings you can give yourself.\u201d(251) \u201cMisfortune, and losses, and calumny,\u201d\nsaid Seneca, \u201cdisappear before virtue as the taper before the sun.\u201d(252)\n\u201cIn one point the sage is superior to God. God owes it to His nature not\nto fear, but the sage owes it to himself. Sublime condition! he joins the\nfrailty of a man to the security of a god.\u201d(253) \u201cExcept for immortality,\u201d\nhe elsewhere writes, \u201cthe sage is like to God.\u201d(254) \u201cIt is the\ncharacteristic of a wise man,\u201d added Epictetus, \u201cthat he looks for all his\ngood and evil from himself.\u201d(255) \u201cAs far as his rational nature is\nconcerned, he is in no degree inferior to the gods.\u201d(256)\n\nThere were, however, other veins of thought exhibited in stoicism which\ngreatly modified and sometimes positively contradicted this view of the\nrelations of man to the Deity. The theology of the Stoics was an\nill-defined, uncertain, and somewhat inconsistent Pantheism; the Divinity\nwas especially worshipped under the two aspects of Providence and moral\ngoodness, and the soul of man was regarded as \u201ca detached fragment of the\nDeity,\u201d(257) or as at least pervaded and accompanied by a divine energy.\n\u201cThere never,\u201d said Cicero, \u201cwas a great man, without an inspiration from\non high.\u201d(258) \u201cNothing,\u201d said Seneca, \u201cis closed to God. He is present in\nour conscience. He intervenes in our thoughts.\u201d(259) \u201cI tell thee,\nLucilius,\u201d he elsewhere writes, \u201ca sacred spirit dwells within us, the\nobserver and the guardian of our good and evil deeds.... No man is good\nwithout God. Who, save by His assistance, can rise above fortune? He gives\nnoble and lofty counsels. A God (what God I know not) dwells in every good\nman.\u201d(260) \u201cOffer to the God that is in thee,\u201d said Marcus Aurelius, \u201ca\nmanly being, a citizen, a soldier at his post ready to depart from life as\nsoon as the trumpet sounds.\u201d(261) \u201cIt is sufficient to believe in the\nGenius who is within us, and to honour him by a pure worship.\u201d(262)\n\nPassages of this kind are not unfrequent in Stoical writings. More\ncommonly, however, virtue is represented as a human act imitating God.\nThis was the meaning of the Platonic maxim, \u201cfollow God,\u201d which the Stoics\ncontinually repeated, which they developed in many passages of the most\ntouching and beautiful piety, and to which they added the duty of the most\nabsolute and unquestioning submission to the decrees of Providence. Their\ndoctrine on this latter point harmonised well with their antipathy to the\nemotional side of our being. \u201cTo weep, to complain, to groan, is to\nrebel;\u201d(263) \u201cto fear, to grieve, to be angry, is to be a deserter.\u201d(264)\n\u201cRemember that you are but an actor, acting whatever part the Master has\nordained. It may be short, or it may be long. If He wishes you to\nrepresent a poor man, do so heartily; if a cripple, or a magistrate, or a\nprivate man, in each case act your part with honour.\u201d(265) \u201cNever say of\nanything that you have lost it, but that you have restored it; your wife\nand child die\u2014you have restored them; your farm is taken from you\u2014that\nalso is restored. It is seized by an impious man. What is it to you by\nwhose instrumentality He who gave it reclaims it?\u201d(266) \u201cGod does not keep\na good man in prosperity; He tries, He strengthens him, He prepares him\nfor Himself.\u201d(267) \u201cThose whom God approves, whom He loves, He hardens, He\nproves, He exercises; but those whom He seems to indulge and spare, He\npreserves for future ills.\u201d(268) With a beautiful outburst of submissive\ngratitude, Marcus Aurelius exclaims, \u201cSome have said, Oh, dear city of\nCecrops!\u2014but thou, canst thou say, Oh, dear city of Jupiter?... All that\nis suitable to thee, oh world, is suitable to me.\u201d(269)\n\nThese passages, which might be indefinitely multiplied, serve to show how\nsuccessfully the Stoics laboured, by dilating upon the conception of\nProvidence, to mitigate the arrogance which one aspect of their teaching\nunquestionably displayed. But in this very attempt another danger was\nincurred, upon which a very large proportion of the moral systems of all\nages have been wrecked. A doctrine which thus enjoins absolute submission\nto the decrees of Providence,(270) which proscribes the affections, and\nwhich represents its disciples as altogether independent of surrounding\ncircumstances, would in most conditions of society have led necessarily to\nquietism, and proved absolutely incompatible with active virtue.\nFortunately, however, in the ancient civilisations the idea of virtue had\nfrom the earliest times been so indissolubly connected with that of\npolitical activity that the danger was for a long period altogether\navoided. The State occupied in antiquity a prominence in the thoughts of\nmen which it never has attained in modern times. The influence of\npatriotism thrilled through every fibre of moral and intellectual life.\nThe most profound philosophers, the purest moralists, the most sublime\npoets, had been soldiers or statesmen. Hence arose the excessive\npredominance occasionally accorded to civic virtues in ancient systems of\nethics, and also not a few of their most revolting paradoxes. Plato\nadvocated community of wives mainly on the ground that the children\nproduced would be attached more exclusively to their country.(271)\nAristotle may be almost said to have made the difference between Greek and\nbarbarian the basis of his moral code. The Spartan legislation was\ncontinually extolled as an ideal, as the Venetian constitution by the\nwriters of the seventeenth century. On the other hand, the contact of the\nspheres of speculation and of political activity exercised in one respect\na very beneficial influence upon ancient philosophies. Patriotism almost\nalways occupied a prominence in the scale of duties, which forms a\nstriking contrast to the neglect or discredit into which it has fallen\namong modern teachers. We do, indeed, read of an Anaxagoras pointing to\nheaven as to his true country, and pronouncing exile to be no evil, as the\ndescent to the infernal regions is the same from every land;(272) but such\nsentiments, though not unknown among the Epicureans and the Cynics, were\ndiametrically opposed to the prevailing tone. Patriotism was represented\nas a moral duty, and a duty of the highest order. Cicero only echoed the\ncommon opinion of antiquity in that noble passage, in which he asserts\nthat the love we owe our country is even holier and more profound than\nthat we owe our nearest kinsman, and that he can have no claim to the\ntitle of a good man who even hesitates to die in its behalf.(273)\n\nA necessary consequence of this prominence of patriotism was the practical\ncharacter of most ancient ethics. We find, indeed, moralists often\nexhorting men to moderate their ambition, consoling them under political\nadversity, and urging that there are some circumstances under which an\nupright man should for a time withdraw from public affairs;(274) but the\ngeneral duty of taking part in political life was emphatically asserted,\nand the vanity of the quietist theory of life not only maintained, but\neven somewhat exaggerated. Thus Cicero declared that \u201call virtue is in\naction.\u201d(275) The younger Pliny mentions that he once lamented to the\nStoic Euphrates the small place which his official duties left for\nphilosophical pursuits; but Euphrates answered that the discharge of\npublic affairs and the administration of justice formed a part, and the\nmost important part, of philosophy, for he who is so engaged is but\npractising the precepts of the schools.(276) It was a fundamental maxim of\nthe Stoics that humanity is a body in which each limb should act solely\nand continually with a view to the interests of the whole. Marcus\nAurelius, the purest mind of the sect, was for nineteen years the active\nruler of the civilised globe. Thrasea, Helvidius, Cornutus, and a crowd of\nothers who had adopted Stoicism as a religion, lived, and in many cases\ndied, in obedience to its precepts, struggling for the liberties of their\ncountry in the darkest hours of tyranny.\n\nMen who had formed such high conceptions of duty, who had bridled so\ncompletely the tumult of passion, and whose lives were spent in a calm\nsense of virtue and of dignity, were little likely to be assailed by the\nsuperstitious fears that are the nightmare of weaker men. The preparation\nfor death was deemed one of the chief ends of philosophy.(277) The thought\nof a coming change assisted the mind in detaching itself from the gifts of\nfortune, and the extinction of all superstitious terrors completed the\ntype of self-reliant majesty which Stoicism had chosen for its ideal. But\nwhile it is certain that no philosophers expatiated upon death with a\ngrander eloquence, or met it with a more placid courage, it can hardly be\ndenied that their constant disquisitions forced it into an unhealthy\nprominence, and somewhat discoloured their whole view of life. \u201cThe\nStoics,\u201d as Bacon has said, \u201cbestowed too much cost on death, and by their\npreparations made it more fearful.\u201d(278) There is a profound wisdom in the\nmaxims of Spinoza, that \u201cthe proper study of a wise man is not how to die,\nbut how to live,\u201d and that \u201cthere is no subject on which the sage will\nthink less than death.\u201d(279) A life of active duty is the best preparation\nfor the end, and so large a part of the evil of death lies in its\nanticipation, that an attempt to deprive it of its terrors by constant\nmeditation almost necessarily defeats its object, while at the same time\nit forms an unnaturally tense, feverish, and tragical character,\nannihilates the ambition and enthusiasm that are essential to human\nprogress, and not unfrequently casts a chill and a deadness over the\naffections.\n\nAmong the many half-pagan legends that were connected with Ireland during\nthe middle ages, one of the most beautiful is that of the islands of life\nand of death. In a certain lake in Munster it is said there were two\nislands; into the first death could never enter, but age and sickness, and\nthe weariness of life, and the paroxysms of fearful suffering were all\nknown there, and they did their work till the inhabitants, tired of their\nimmortality, learned to look upon the opposite island as upon a haven of\nrepose: they launched their barks upon the gloomy waters; they touched its\nshore and they were at rest.(280)\n\nThis legend, which is far more akin to the spirit of paganism than to that\nof Christianity, and is in fact only another form of the myth of Tithonus,\nrepresents with great fidelity the aspect in which death was regarded by\nthe exponents of Stoicism. There was much difference of opinion and of\ncertitude in the judgments of the ancient philosophers concerning the\nfuture destinies of the soul, but they were unanimous in regarding death\nsimply as a natural rest, and in attributing the terrors that were\nconnected with it to a diseased imagination. Death, they said, is the only\nevil that does not afflict us when present. While we are, death is not,\nwhen death has come we are not. It is a false belief that it only follows,\nit also precedes, life. It is to be as we were before we were born. The\ncandle which has been extinguished is in the same condition as before it\nwas lit, and the dead man as the man unborn. Death is the end of all\nsorrow. It either secures happiness or ends suffering. It frees the slave\nfrom his cruel master, opens the prison door, calms the qualms of pain,\ncloses the struggles of poverty. It is the last and best boon of nature,\nfor it frees man from all his cares. It is at worst but the close of a\nbanquet we have enjoyed. Whether it be desired or whether it be shunned,\nit is no curse and no evil, but simply the resolution of our being into\nits primitive elements, the law of our nature to which it is our duty\ncheerfully to conform.\n\nSuch were the leading topics that were employed in that beautiful\nliterature of \u201cConsolations,\u201d which the academic Crantor is said to have\noriginated, and which occupies so large a place in the writings of Cicero,\nPlutarch, and the Stoics. Cicero, like all the school of Plato, added to\nthese motives a very firm and constant reference to the immortality of the\nsoul. Plutarch held the same doctrine with equal assurance, but he gave it\na much less conspicuous position in his \u201cConsolations,\u201d and he based it\nnot upon philosophical grounds, but upon the testimonies of the oracles,\nand upon the mysteries of Bacchus.(281) Among the Stoics the doctrine\nshone with a faint and uncertain light, and was seldom or never adopted as\na motive. But that which is most impressive to a student who turns from\nthe religious literature of Christianity to the pagan philosophies, is the\ncomplete absence in the latter of all notion concerning the penal\ncharacter of death. Death, according to Socrates,(282) either extinguishes\nlife or emancipates it from the thraldom of the body. Even in the first\ncase it is a blessing, in the last it is the greatest of boons. \u201cAccustom\nyourself,\u201d said Epicurus, \u201cto the thought that death is indifferent; for\nall good and all evil consist in feeling, and what is death but the\nprivation of feeling?\u201d(283) \u201cSouls either remain after death,\u201d said\nCicero, \u201cor they perish in death. If they remain they are happy; if they\nperish they are not wretched.\u201d(284) Seneca, consoling Polybius concerning\nthe death of his brother, exhorts his friend to think, \u201cif the dead have\nany sensations, then my brother, let loose as it were from a lifelong\nprison, and at last enjoying his liberty, looks down from a loftier height\non the wonders of nature and on all the deeds of men, and sees more\nclearly those divine things which he had so long sought in vain to\nunderstand. But why should I be afflicted for one who is either happy or\nis nothing? To lament the fate of one who is happy is envy; to lament the\nfate of a nonentity is madness.\u201d(285)\n\nBut while the Greek and Roman philosophers were on this point unanimous,\nthere was a strong opposing current in the popular mind. The Greek word\nfor superstition signifies literally, fear of gods or d\u00e6mons, and the\nphilosophers sometimes represent the vulgar as shuddering at the thought\nof death, through dread of certain endless sufferings to which it would\nlead them. The Greek mythology contains many fables on the subject. The\nearly Greek vases occasionally represent scenes of infernal torments, not\nunlike those of the medi\u00e6val frescoes.(286) The rapture with which\nEpicureanism was received, as liberating the human mind from the thraldom\nof superstitious terrors, shows how galling must have been the yoke. In\nthe poem of Lucretius, in occasional passages of Cicero and other Latin\nmoralists, above all, in the treatise of Plutarch \u201cOn Superstition,\u201d we\nmay trace the deep impression these terrors had made upon the populace,\neven during the later period of the Republic, and during the Empire. To\ndestroy them was represented as the highest function of philosophy.\nPlutarch denounced them as the worst calumny against the Deity, as more\npernicious than atheism, as the evil consequences of immoral fables, and\nhe gladly turned to other legends which taught a different lesson. Thus it\nwas related that when, during a certain festival at Argos, the horses that\nwere to draw the statue of Juno to the temple were detained, the sons of\nthe priestess yoked themselves to the car, and their mother, admiring\ntheir piety, prayed the goddess to reward them with whatever boon was the\nbest for man. Her prayer was answered\u2014they sank asleep and died.(287) In\nlike manner the architects of the great temple of Apollo at Delphi, prayed\nthe god to select that reward which was best. The oracle told them in\nreply to spend seven days in rejoicing, and on the following night their\nreward would come. They too died in sleep.(288) The swan was consecrated\nto Apollo because its dying song was believed to spring from a prophetic\nimpulse.(289) The Spanish Celts raised temples, and sang hymns of praise\nto death.(290) No philosopher of antiquity ever questioned that a good\nman, reviewing his life, might look upon it without shame and even with\npositive complacency, or that the reverence with which men regard heroic\ndeaths is a foretaste of the sentence of the Creator. To this confidence\nmay be traced the tranquil courage, the complete absence of all remorse,\nso conspicuous in the closing hours of Socrates, and of many other of the\nsages of antiquity. There is no fact in religious history more startling\nthan the radical change that has in this respect passed over the character\nof devotion. It is said of Chilon, one of the seven sages of Greece, that\nat the close of his career he gathered his disciples around him, and\ncongratulated himself that in a long life he could recall but a single act\nthat saddened his dying hour. It was that, in a perplexing dilemma, he had\nallowed his love of a friend in some slight degree to obscure his sense of\njustice.(291) The writings of Cicero in his old age are full of passionate\naspirations to a future world, unclouded by one regret or by one fear.\nSeneca died tranquilly, bequeathing to his friends \u201cthe most precious of\nhis possessions, the image of his life.\u201d(292) Titus on his deathbed\ndeclared that he could remember only a single act with which to reproach\nhimself.(293) On the last night in which Antoninus Pius lived, the tribune\ncame to ask for the pass-word of the night. The dying emperor gave him\n\u201c\u00e6quanimitas.\u201d(294) Julian, the last great representative of his expiring\ncreed, caught up the same majestic strain. Amid the curses of angry\npriests, and the impending ruin of the cause he loved, he calmly died in\nthe consciousness of his virtue; and his death, which is among the most\nfearless that antiquity records, was the last protest of philosophic\npaganism against the new doctrine that had arisen.(295)\n\nIt is customary with some writers, when exhibiting the many points in\nwhich the ancient philosophers anticipated Christian ethics, to represent\nChristianity as if it were merely a development or authoritative\nconfirmation of the highest teaching of paganism, or as if the additions\nwere at least of such a nature that there is but little doubt that the\nbest and purest spirits of the pagan world, had they known them, would\nhave gladly welcomed them. But this conception, which contains a large\namount of truth if applied to the teaching of many Protestants, is either\ngrossly exaggerated or absolutely false if applied to that of the\npatristic period or of medi\u00e6val Catholicism. On the very subject which the\nphilosophers deemed the most important their unanimous conclusion was the\nextreme antithesis of the teaching of Catholicism. The philosophers taught\nthat death is \u201ca law and not a punishment;\u201d(296) the fathers taught that\nit is a penal infliction introduced into the world on account of the sin\nof Adam, which was also the cause of the appearance of all noxious plants,\nof all convulsions in the material globe, and, as was sometimes asserted,\neven of a diminution of the light of the sun. The first taught that death\nwas the end of suffering; they ridiculed as the extreme of folly the\nnotion that physical evils could await those whose bodies had been reduced\nto ashes, and they dwelt with emphatic eloquence upon the approaching,\nand, as they believed, final extinction of superstitious terrors. The\nsecond taught that death to the vast majority of the human race is but the\nbeginning of endless and excruciating tortures\u2014tortures before which the\nmost ghastly of terrestrial sufferings dwindle into\ninsignificance\u2014tortures which no courage could defy\u2014which none but an\nimmortal being could endure. The first represented man as pure and\ninnocent until his will had sinned; the second represented him as under a\nsentence of condemnation at the very moment of his birth. \u201cNo funeral\nsacrifices\u201d said a great writer of the first school, \u201care offered for\nchildren who die at an early age, and none of the ceremonies practised at\nthe funerals of adults are performed at their tombs, for it is believed\nthat infants have no hold upon earth or upon terrestrial affections....\nThe law forbids us to honour them because it is irreligious to lament for\nthose pure souls who have passed into a better life and a happier\ndwelling-place.\u201d(297) \u201cWhosoever shall tell us,\u201d said a distinguished\nexponent of the patristic theology, \u201cthat infants shall be quickened in\nChrist who die without partaking in His Sacrament, does both contradict\nthe Apostle\u2019s teaching and condemn the whole Church.... And he that is not\nquickened in Christ must remain in that condemnation of which the Apostle\nspeaks, \u2018by one man\u2019s offence condemnation came upon all men to\ncondemnation.\u2019 To which condemnation infants are born liable as all the\nChurch believes.\u201d(298) The one school endeavoured to plant its foundations\nin the moral nature of mankind, by proclaiming that man can become\nacceptable to the Deity by his own virtue, and by this alone, that all\nsacrifices, rites, and forms are indifferent, and that the true worship of\nGod is the recognition and imitation of His goodness. According to the\nother school, the most heroic efforts of human virtue are insufficient to\navert a sentence of eternal condemnation, unless united with an implicit\nbelief in the teachings of the Church, and a due observance of the rites\nit enjoins. By the philosophers the ascription of anger and vengeance to\nthe Deity, and the apprehension of future torture at His hands, were\nunanimously repudiated;(299) by the priests the opposite opinion was\ndeemed equally censurable.(300)\n\nThese are fundamental points of difference, for they relate to the\nfundamental principles of the ancient philosophy. The main object of the\npagan philosophers was to dispel the terrors the imagination had cast\naround death, and by destroying this last cause of fear to secure the\nliberty of man. The main object of the Catholic priests has been to make\ndeath in itself as revolting and appalling as possible, and by\nrepresenting escape from its terrors as hopeless, except by complete\nsubjection to their rule, to convert it into an instrument of government.\nBy multiplying the dancing or warning skeletons, and other sepulchral\nimages representing the loathsomeness of death without its repose; by\nsubstituting inhumation for incremation, and concentrating the imagination\non the ghastliness of decay; above all, by peopling the unseen world with\ndemon phantoms and with excruciating tortures, the Catholic Church\nsucceeded in making death in itself unspeakably terrible, and in thus\npreparing men for the consolations it could offer. Its legends, its\nceremonies, its art,(301) its dogmatic teaching, all conspired to this\nend, and the history of its miracles is a striking evidence of its\nsuccess. The great majority of superstitions have ever clustered around\ntwo centres\u2014the fear of death and the belief that every phenomenon of life\nis the result of a special spiritual interposition. Among the ancients\nthey were usually of the latter kind. Auguries, prophecies, interventions\nin war, prodigies avenging the neglect of some rite or marking some epoch\nin the fortunes of a nation or of a ruler, are the forms they usually\nassumed. In the middle ages, although these were very common, the most\nconspicuous superstitions took the form of visions of purgatory or hell,\nconflicts with visible demons, or Satanic miracles. Like those mothers who\ngovern their children by persuading them that the dark is crowded with\nspectres that will seize the disobedient, and who often succeed in\ncreating an association of ideas which the adult man is unable altogether\nto dissolve, the Catholic priests resolved to base their power upon the\nnerves; and as they long exercised an absolute control over education,\nliterature, and art, they succeeded in completely reversing the teaching\nof ancient philosophy, and in making the terrors of death for centuries\nthe nightmare of the imagination.\n\nThere is, indeed, another side to the picture. The vague uncertainty with\nwhich the best pagans regarded death passed away before the teaching of\nthe Church, and it was often replaced by a rapture of hope, which,\nhowever, the doctrine of purgatory contributed at a later period largely\nto quell. But, whatever may be thought of the justice of the Catholic\nconception of death or of its influence upon human happiness, it is plain\nthat it is radically different from that of the pagan philosophers. That\nman is not only an imperfect but a fallen being, and that death is the\npenal consequence of his sin, was a doctrine profoundly new to mankind,\nand it has exercised an influence of the most serious character upon the\nmoral history of the world.\n\nThe wide divergence of the classical from the Catholic conception of death\nappears very plainly in the attitude which each system adopted towards\nsuicide. This is, perhaps, the most striking of all the points of contrast\nbetween the teaching of antiquity, and especially of the Roman Stoics, on\nthe one hand, and that of almost all modern moralists on the other. It is\nindeed true that the ancients were by no means unanimous in their approval\nof the act. Pythagoras, to whom so many of the wisest sayings of antiquity\nare ascribed, is said to have forbidden men \u201cto depart from their guard or\nstation in life without the order of their commander, that is, of\nGod.\u201d(302) Plato adopted similar language, though he permitted suicide\nwhen the law required it, and also when men had been struck down by\nintolerable calamity, or had sunk to the lowest depths of poverty.(303)\nAristotle condemned it on civic grounds, as being an injury to the\nState.(304) The roll of Greek suicides is not long, though it contains\nsome illustrious names, among others those of Zeno and Cleanthes.(305) In\nRome, too, where suicide acquired a greater prominence, its lawfulness was\nby no means accepted as an axiom, and the story of Regulus, whether it be\na history or a legend, shows that the patient endurance of suffering was\nonce the supreme ideal.(306) Virgil painted in gloomy colours the\ncondition of suicides in the future world.(307) Cicero strongly asserted\nthe doctrine of Pythagoras, though he praised the suicide of Cato.(308)\nApuleius, expounding the philosophy of Plato, taught that \u201cthe wise man\nnever throws off his body except by the will of God.\u201d(309) C\u00e6sar, Ovid,\nand others urged that in extreme distress it is easy to despise life, and\nthat true courage is shown in enduring it.(310) Among the Stoics\nthemselves, the belief that no man may shrink from a duty co-existed with\nthe belief that every man has a right to dispose of his own life. Seneca,\nwho emphatically advocated suicide, admits that there were some who deemed\nit wrong, and he himself attempted to moderate what he termed \u201cthe passion\nfor suicide\u201d, that had arisen among his disciples.(311) Marcus Aurelius\nwavers a little on the subject, sometimes asserting the right of every man\nto leave life when he pleases, sometimes inclining to the Platonic\ndoctrine that man is a soldier of God, occupying a post which it is\ncriminal to abandon.(312) Plotinus and Porphyry argued strongly against\nall suicide.(313)\n\nBut, notwithstanding these passages, there can be no question that the\nancient view of suicide was broadly and strongly opposed to our own. A\ngeneral approval of it floated down through most of the schools of\nphilosophy, and even to those who condemned it, it never seems to have\nassumed its present aspect of extreme enormity. This was in the first\ninstance due to the ancient notion of death; and we have also to remember\nthat when a society once learns to tolerate suicide, the deed, in ceasing\nto be disgraceful, loses much of its actual criminality, for those who are\nmost firmly convinced that the stigma and suffering it now brings upon the\nfamily of the deceased do not constitute its entire guilt, will readily\nacknowledge that they greatly aggravate it. In the conditions of ancient\nthought, this aggravation did not exist. Epicurus exhorted men \u201cto weigh\ncarefully, whether they would prefer death to come to them, or would\nthemselves go to death;\u201d(314) and among his disciples, Lucretius, the\nillustrious poet of the sect, died by his own hand,(315) as did also\nCassius the tyrannicide, Atticus the friend of Cicero,(316) the voluptuary\nPetronius,(317) and the philosopher Diodorus.(318) Pliny described the lot\nof man as in this respect at least superior to that of God, that man has\nthe power of flying to the tomb,(319) and he represented it as one of the\ngreatest proofs of the bounty of Providence, that it has filled the world\nwith herbs, by which the weary may find a rapid and a painless death.(320)\nOne of the most striking figures that a passing notice of Cicero brings\nbefore us, is that of Hegesias, who was surnamed by the ancients \u201cthe\norator of death.\u201d A conspicuous member of that Cyrenaic school which\nesteemed the pursuit of pleasure the sole end of a rational being, he\ntaught that life was so full of cares, and its pleasure so fleeting and so\nalloyed, that the happiest lot for man was death; and such was the power\nof his eloquence, so intense was the fascination he cast around the tomb,\nthat his disciples embraced with rapture the consequence of his doctrine,\nmultitudes freed themselves by suicide from the troubles of the world, and\nthe contagion was so great, that Ptolemy, it is said, was compelled to\nbanish the philosopher from Alexandria.(321)\n\nBut it was in the Roman Empire and among the Roman Stoics that suicide\nassumed its greatest prominence, and its philosophy was most fully\nelaborated. From an early period self-immolation, like that of Curtius or\nDecius, had been esteemed in some circumstances a religious rite, being,\nas has been well suggested, probably a lingering remnant of the custom of\nhuman sacrifices,(322) and towards the closing days of paganism many\ninfluences conspired in the same direction. The example of Cato, who had\nbecome the ideal of the Stoics, and whose dramatic suicide was the\nfavourite subject of their eloquence,(323) the indifference to death\nproduced by the great multiplication of gladiatorial shows, the many\ninstances of barbarian captives, who, sooner than slay their\nfellow-countrymen, or minister to the pleasures of their conquerors,\nplunged their lances into their own necks, or found other and still more\nhorrible roads to freedom,(324) the custom of compelling political\nprisoners to execute their own sentence, and, more than all, the\ncapricious and atrocious tyranny of the C\u00e6sars,(325) had raised suicide\ninto an extraordinary prominence. Few things are more touching than the\npassionate joy with which, in the reign of Nero, Seneca clung to it as the\none refuge for the oppressed, the last bulwark of the tottering mind. \u201cTo\ndeath alone it is due that life is not a punishment, that, erect beneath\nthe frowns of fortune, I can preserve my mind unshaken and master of\nitself. I have one to whom I can appeal. I see before me the crosses of\nmany forms.... I see the rack and the scourge, and the instruments of\ntorture adapted to every limb and to every nerve; but I also see Death.\nShe stands beyond my savage enemies, beyond my haughty fellow-countrymen.\nSlavery loses its bitterness when by a step I can pass to liberty. Against\nall the injuries of life, I have the refuge of death.\u201d(326) \u201cWherever you\nlook, there is the end of evils. You see that yawning precipice\u2014there you\nmay descend to liberty. You see that sea, that river, that well\u2014liberty\nsits at the bottom.... Do you seek the way to freedom?\u2014you may find it in\nevery vein of your body.\u201d(327) \u201cIf I can choose between a death of torture\nand one that is simple and easy, why should I not select the latter? As I\nchoose the ship in which I will sail, and the house I will inhabit, so I\nwill choose the death by which I will leave life.... In no matter more\nthan in death should we act according to our desire. Depart from life as\nyour impulse leads you, whether it be by the sword, or the rope, or the\npoison creeping through the veins; go your way, and break the chains of\nslavery. Man should seek the approbation of others in his life; his death\nconcerns himself alone. That is the best which pleases him most.... The\neternal law has decreed nothing better than this, that life should have\nbut one entrance and many exits. Why should I endure the agonies of\ndisease, and the cruelties of human tyranny, when I can emancipate myself\nfrom all my torments, and shake off every bond? For this reason, but for\nthis alone, life is not an evil\u2014that no one is obliged to live. The lot of\nman is happy, because no one continues wretched but by his fault. If life\npleases you, live. If not, you have a right to return whence you\ncame.\u201d(328)\n\nThese passages, which are but a few selected out of very many, will\nsufficiently show the passion with which the most influential teacher of\nRoman Stoicism advocated suicide. As a general proposition, the law\nrecognised it as a right, but two slight restrictions were after a time\nimposed.(329) It had become customary with many men who were accused of\npolitical offences to commit suicide before trial, in order to prevent the\nignominious exposure of their bodies and the confiscation of their goods;\nbut Domitian closed this resource by ordaining that the suicide of an\naccused person should entail the same consequences as his condemnation.\nHadrian afterwards assimilated the suicide of a Roman soldier to\ndesertion.(330) With these exceptions, the liberty appears to have been\nabsolute, and the act was committed under the most various motives. The\nsuicide of Otho, who is said to have killed himself to avoid being a\nsecond time a cause of civil war, was extolled as equal in grandeur to\nthat of Cato.(331) In the Dacian war, the enemy, having captured a\ndistinguished Roman general named Longinus, endeavoured to extort terms\nfrom Trajan as a condition of his surrender, but Longinus, by taking\npoison, freed the emperor from his embarrassment.(332) On the death of\nOtho, some of his soldiers, filled with grief and admiration, killed\nthemselves before his corpse,(333) as did also a freedman of Agrippina, at\nthe funeral of the empress.(334) Before the close of the Republic, an\nenthusiastic partisan of one of the factions in the chariot races flung\nhimself upon the pile on which the body of a favourite coachman was\nconsumed, and perished in the flames.(335) A Roman, unmenaced in his\nfortune, and standing high in the favour of his sovereign, killed himself\nunder Tiberius, because he could not endure to witness the crimes of the\nempire.(336) Another, being afflicted by an incurable malady, postponed\nhis suicide till the death of Domitian, that at least he might die free,\nand on the assassination of the tyrant, hastened cheerfully to the\ntomb.(337) The Cynic Peregrinus announced that, being weary of life, he\nwould on a certain day depart, and, in presence of a large concourse, he\nmounted the funeral pile.(338) Most frequently, however, death was\nregarded as \u201cthe last physician of disease,\u201d(339) and suicide as the\nlegitimate relief from intolerable suffering. \u201cAbove all things,\u201d said\nEpictetus, \u201cremember that the door is open. Be not more timid than boys at\nplay. As they, when they cease to take pleasure in their games, declare\nthey will no longer play, so do you, when, all things begin to pall upon\nyou, retire; but if you stay, do not complain.\u201d(340) Seneca declared that\nhe who waits the extremity of old age is not \u201cfar removed from a coward,\u201d\n\u201cas he is justly regarded as too much addicted to wine who drains the\nflask to the very dregs.\u201d \u201cI will not relinquish old age,\u201d he added, \u201cif\nit leaves my better part intact. But if it begins to shake my mind, if it\ndestroys its faculties one by one, if it leaves me not life but breath, I\nwill depart from the putrid or tottering edifice. I will not escape by\ndeath from disease so long as it may be healed, and leaves my mind\nunimpaired. I will not raise my hand against myself on account of pain,\nfor so to die is to be conquered. But if I know that I must suffer without\nhope of relief, I will depart, not through fear of the pain itself, but\nbecause it prevents all for which I would live.\u201d(341) \u201cJust as a\nlandlord,\u201d said Musonius, \u201cwho has not received his rent, pulls down the\ndoors, removes the rafters, and fills up the well, so I seem to be driven\nout of this little body, when nature, which has let it to me, takes away,\none by one, eyes and ears, hands and feet. I will not, therefore, delay\nlonger, but will cheerfully depart as from a banquet.\u201d(342)\n\nThis conception of suicide as an euthanasia, an abridgment of the pangs of\ndisease, and a guarantee against the dotage of age, was not confined to\nphilosophical treatises. We have considerable evidence of its being\nfrequently put in practice. Among those who thus abridged their lives was\nSilius Italicus, one of the last of the Latin poets.(343) The younger\nPliny describes in terms of the most glowing admiration the conduct of one\nof his friends, who, struck down by disease, resolved calmly and\ndeliberately upon the path he should pursue. He determined, if the disease\nwas only dangerous and long, to yield to the wishes of his friends and\nawait the struggle; but if the issue was hopeless, to die by his own hand.\nHaving reasoned on the propriety of this course with all the tranquil\ncourage of a Roman, he summoned a council of physicians, and, with a mind\nindifferent to either fate, he calmly awaited their sentence.(344) The\nsame writer mentions the case of a man who was afflicted with a horrible\ndisease, which reduced his body to a mass of sores. His wife, being\nconvinced that it was incurable, exhorted her husband to shorten his\nsufferings; she nerved and encouraged him to the effort, and she claimed\nit as her privilege to accompany him to the grave. Husband and wife, bound\ntogether, plunged into a lake.(345) Seneca, in one of his letters, has\nleft us a detailed description of the death-bed of one of the Roman\nsuicides. Tullius Marcellinus, a young man of remarkable abilities and\nvery earnest character, who had long ridiculed the teachings of\nphilosophy, but had ended by embracing it with all the passion of a\nconvert, being afflicted with a grave and lingering though not incurable\ndisease, resolved at length upon suicide. He gathered his friends around\nhim, and many of them entreated him to continue in life. Among them,\nhowever, was one Stoical philosopher, who addressed him in what Seneca\nterms the very noblest of discourses. He exhorted him not to lay too much\nstress upon the question he was deciding, as if existence was a matter of\ngreat importance. He urged that life is a thing we possess in common with\nslaves and animals, but that a noble death should indeed be prized, and he\nconcluded by recommending suicide. Marcellinus gladly embraced the counsel\nwhich his own wishes had anticipated. According to the advice of his\nfriend, he distributed gifts among his faithful slaves, consoled them on\ntheir approaching bereavement, abstained dining three days from all food,\nand at last, when his strength had been wholly exhausted, passed into a\nwarm bath and calmly died, describing with his last breath the pleasing\nsensations that accompanied receding life.(346)\n\nThe doctrine of suicide was indeed the culminating point of Roman\nStoicism. The proud, self-reliant, unbending character of the philosopher\ncould only be sustained when he felt that he had a sure refuge against the\nextreme forms of suffering or of despair. Although virtue is not a mere\ncreature of interest, no great system has ever yet flourished which did\nnot present an ideal of happiness as well as an ideal of duty. Stoicism\ntaught men to hope little, but to fear nothing. It did not array death in\nbrilliant colours, as the path to positive felicity, but it endeavoured to\ndivest it, as the end of suffering, of every terror. Life lost much of its\nbitterness when men had found a refuge from the storms of fate, a speedy\ndeliverance from dotage and pain. Death ceased to be terrible when it was\nregarded rather as a remedy than as a sentence. Life and death in the\nStoical system were attuned to the same key. The deification of human\nvirtue, the total absence of all sense of sin, the proud stubborn will\nthat deemed humiliation the worst of stains, appeared alike in each. The\ntype of its own kind was perfect. All the virtues and all the majesty that\naccompany human pride, when developed to the highest point, and directed\nto the noblest ends, were here displayed. All those which accompany\nhumility and self-abasement were absent.\n\nI desire at this stage of our enquiry to pause for a moment, in order to\nretrace briefly the leading steps of the foregoing argument, and thus to\nbring into the clearest light the connection which many details and\nquotations may have occasionally obscured. Such a review will show at a\nsingle glance in what respects Stoicism was a result of the pre-existent\nstate of society, and in what respects it was an active agent, how far its\ninfluence was preparing the way for Christian ethics, and how far it was\nopposed to them.\n\nWe have seen, then, that among the Romans, as among other people, a very\nclear and definite type of moral excellence was created before men had\nformed any clear intellectual notions of the nature and sanctions of\nvirtue. The characters of men are chiefly governed by their occupations,\nand the republic being organised altogether with a view to military\nsuccess, it had attained all the virtues and vices of a military society.\nWe have seen, too, that at all times, but most especially under the\nconditions of ancient warfare, military life is very unfavourable to the\namiable, and very favourable to the heroic virtues. The Roman had learnt\nto value force very highly. Being continually engaged in inflicting pain,\nhis natural or instinctive humanity was very low. His moral feelings were\nalmost bounded by political limits, acting only, and with different\ndegrees of intensity, towards his class, his country, and its allies.\nIndomitable pride was the most prominent element of his character. A\nvictorious army which is humble or diffident, or tolerant of insult, or\nanxious to take the second place, is, indeed, almost a contradiction of\nterms. The spirit of patriotism, in its relation to foreigners, like that\nof political liberty in its relation to governors, is a spirit of constant\nand jealous self-assertion; and although both are very consonant with high\nmorality and great self-devotion, we rarely find that the grace of genuine\nhumility can flourish in a society that is intensely pervaded by their\ninfluence. The kind of excellence that found most favour in Roman eyes was\nsimple, forcible, massive, but coarse-grained. Subtilty of motives,\nrefinements of feelings, delicacies of susceptibility, were rarely\nappreciated.\n\nThis was the darker side of the picture. On the other hand, the national\ncharacter, being formed by a profession in which mercenary considerations\nare less powerful, and splendid examples of self-devotion more frequent,\nthan in any other, had early risen to a heroic level. Death being\ncontinually confronted, to meet it with courage was the chief test of\nvirtue. The habits of men were unaffected, frugal, honourable, and\nlaborious. A stern discipline pervading all ages and classes of society,\nthe will was trained, to an almost unexampled degree, to repress the\npassions, to endure suffering and opposition, to tend steadily and\nfearlessly towards an unpopular end. A sense of duty was very widely\ndiffused, and a deep attachment to the interests of the city became the\nparent of many virtues.\n\nSuch was the type of excellence the Roman people had attained at a time\nwhen its intellectual cultivation produced philosophical discussions, and\nwhen numerous Greek professors, attracted partly by political events, and\npartly by the patronage of Scipio \u00c6milianus, arrived at Rome, bringing\nwith them the tenets of the great schools of Zeno and Epicurus, and of the\nmany minor sects that clustered around them. Epicureanism being\nessentially opposed to the pre-existing type of virtue, though it spread\ngreatly, never attained the position of a school of virtue. Stoicism,\ntaught by Pan\u00e6tius of Rhodes, and soon after by the Syrian Posidonius,\nbecame the true religion of the educated classes. It furnished the\nprinciples of virtue, coloured the noblest literature of the time, and\nguided all the developments of moral enthusiasm.\n\nThe Stoical system of ethics was in the highest sense a system of\nindependent morals. It taught that our reason reveals to us a certain law\nof nature, and that a desire to conform to this law, irrespectively of all\nconsiderations of reward or punishment, of happiness or the reverse, is a\npossible and a sufficient motive of virtue. It was also in the highest\nsense a system of discipline. It taught that the will, acting under the\ncomplete control of the reason, is the sole principle of virtue, and that\nall the emotional part of our being is of the nature of a disease. Its\nwhole tendency was therefore to dignify and strengthen the will, and to\ndegrade and suppress the desires. It taught, moreover, that man is capable\nof attaining an extremely high degree of moral excellence, that he has\nnothing to fear beyond the present life, that it is essential to the\ndignity and consistence of his character that he should regard death\nwithout dismay, and that he has a right to hasten it if he desires.\n\nIt is easy to see that this system of ethics was strictly consonant with\nthe type of character the circumstances of the Roman people had formed. It\nis also manifest that while the force of circumstances had in the first\ninstance secured its ascendancy, the energy of will which it produced\nwould enable it to offer a powerful resistance to the tendencies of an\naltered condition of society. This was pre-eminently shown in the history\nof Roman Stoicism. The austere purity of the writings of Seneca and his\nschool is a fact probably unique in history, when we consider, on the one\nhand, the intense and undisguised depravity of the Empire, and on the\nother, the prominent position of most of the leading Stoics in the very\ncentre of the stream. More than once in later periods did great\nintellectual brilliancy coincide with general depravity, but on none of\nthese occasions was this moral phenomenon reproduced. In the age of Leo\nX., in the age of the French Regency, or of Lewis XV., we look in vain for\nhigh moral teaching in the centre of Italian or of Parisian civilisation.\nThe true teachers of those ages were the reformers, who arose in obscure\ntowns of Germany or Switzerland, or that diseased recluse who, from his\nsolitude near Geneva, fascinated Europe by the gleams of a dazzling and\nalmost peerless eloquence, and by a moral teaching which, though often\nfeverish, paradoxical, and unpractical, abounded in passages of\ntranscendent majesty and of the most entrancing purity and beauty. But\neven the best moral teachers who rose in the centres of the depraved\nsociety felt the contagion of the surrounding vice. Their ideal was\ndepressed, their austerity was relaxed, they appealed to sordid and\nworldly motives, their judgments of character were wavering and uncertain,\ntheir whole teaching was of the nature of a compromise. But in ancient\nRome, if the teachers of virtue acted but feebly upon the surrounding\ncorruption, their own tenets were at least unstained. The splendour of the\ngenius of C\u00e6sar never eclipsed the moral grandeur of the vanquished Cato,\nand amid all the dramatic vicissitudes of civil war and of political\nconvulsion, the supreme authority of moral distinctions was never\nforgotten. The eloquence of Livy was chiefly employed in painting virtue,\nthe eloquence of Tacitus in branding vice. The Stoics never lowered their\nstandard because of the depravity around them, and if we trace in their\nteaching any reflection of the prevailing worship of enjoyment, it is only\nin the passionate intensity with which they dwelt upon the tranquillity of\nthe tomb.\n\nBut it is not sufficient for a moral system to form a bulwark against\nvice, it must also be capable of admitting those extensions and\nrefinements of moral sympathies which advancing civilisation produces, and\nthe inflexibility of its antagonism to evil by no means implies its\ncapacity of enlarging its conceptions of good. During the period which\nelapsed between the importation of Stoical tenets into Rome and the\nascendancy of Christianity, an extremely important transformation of moral\nideas had been effected by political changes, and it became a question how\nfar the new elements could coalesce with the Stoical ideal, and how far\nthey tended to replace it by an essentially different type. These changes\nwere twofold, but were very closely connected. They consisted of the\nincreasing prominence of the benevolent or amiable, as distinguished from\nthe heroic qualities, and of the enlargement of moral sympathies, which\nhaving at first comprised only a class or a nation, came at last, by the\ndestruction of many artificial barriers, to include all classes and all\nnations. The causes of these changes\u2014which were the most important\nantecedents of the triumph of Christianity\u2014are very complicated and\nnumerous, but it will, I think, be possible to give in a few pages a\nsufficiently clear outline of the movement.\n\nIt originated in the Roman Empire at the time when the union of the Greek\nand Latin civilisations was effected by the conquest of Greece. The\ngeneral humanity of the Greeks had always been incomparably greater than\nthat of the Romans. The refining influence of their art and literature,\ntheir ignorance of gladiatorial games, and their comparative freedom from\nthe spirit of conquest, had separated them widely from their\nsemi-barbarous conquerors, and had given a peculiar softness and\ntenderness to their ideal characters. Pericles, who, when the friends who\nhad gathered round his death-bed, imagining him to be insensible, were\nrecounting his splendid deeds, told them that they had forgotten his best\ntitle to fame\u2014that \u201cno Athenian had ever worn mourning on his account;\u201d\nAristides, praying the gods that those who had banished him might never be\ncompelled by danger or suffering to recall him; Phocion, when unjustly\ncondemned, exhorting his son never to avenge his death, all represent a\ntype of character of a milder kind than that which Roman influences\nproduced. The plays of Euripides had been to the ancient world the first\ngreat revelation of the supreme beauty of the gentler virtues. Among the\nmany forms of worship that flourished at Athens, there was an altar which\nstood alone, conspicuous and honoured beyond all others. The suppliants\nthronged around it, but no image of a god, no symbol of dogma was there.\nIt was dedicated to Pity, and was venerated through all the ancient world\nas the first great assertion among mankind of the supremo sanctity of\nMercy.(347)\n\nBut while the Greek spirit was from a very early period distinguished for\nits humanity, it was at first as far removed from cosmopolitanism as that\nof Rome. It is well known that Phrynichus was fined because in his\n\u201cConquest of Miletus\u201d he had represented the triumph of barbarians over\nGreeks.(348) His successor, \u00c6schylus, deemed it necessary to violate all\ndramatic probabilities by making the Persian king and courtiers\ncontinually speak of themselves as barbarians. Socrates, indeed, had\nproclaimed himself a citizen of the world,(349) but Aristotle taught that\nGreeks had no more duties to barbarians than to wild beasts, and another\nphilosopher was believed to have evinced an almost excessive range of\nsympathy when he declared that his affections extended beyond his own\nState, and included the whole people of Greece. But the dissolving and\ndisintegrating philosophical discussions that soon followed the death of\nSocrates, strengthened by political events, tended powerfully to destroy\nthis feeling. The traditions that attached Greek philosophy to Egypt, the\nsubsequent admiration for the schools of India to which Pyrrho and\nAnaxarchus are said to have resorted,(350) the prevalence of Cynicism and\nEpicureanism, which agreed in inculcating indifference to political life,\nthe complete decomposition of the popular national religions, and the\nincompatibility of a narrow local feeling with great knowledge and matured\ncivilisation, were the intellectual causes of the change, and the movement\nof expansion received a great political stimulus when Alexander eclipsed\nthe glories of Spartan and Athenian history by the vision of universal\nempire, accorded to the conquered nations the privileges of the\nconquerors, and created in Alexandria a great centre both of commercial\nintercourse and of philosophical eclecticism.(351)\n\nIt is evident, therefore, that the prevalence of Greek ideas in Rome would\nbe in a two-fold way destructive of narrow national feelings. It was the\nascendancy of a people who were not Romans, and of a people who had\nalready become in a great degree emancipated from local sentiments. It is\nalso evident that the Greeks having had for several centuries a splendid\nliterature, at a time when the Romans had none, and when the Latin\nlanguage was still too rude for literary purposes, the period in which the\nRomans first emerged from a purely military condition into an intelligent\ncivilisation would bring with it an ascendancy of Greek ideas. Fabius\nPictor and Cincius Alimentus, the earliest native Roman historians, both\nwrote in Greek,(352) and although the poems of Ennius, and the \u201cOrigines\u201d\nof Marcus Cato, contributed largely to improve and fix the Latin language,\nthe precedent was not at once discontinued.(353) After the conquest of\nGreece, the political ascendancy of the Romans and the intellectual\nascendancy of Greece were alike universal.(354) The conquered people,\nwhose patriotic feelings had been greatly enfeebled by the influences I\nhave noticed, acquiesced readily in their new condition, and\nnotwithstanding the vehement exertions of the conservative party, Greek\nmanners, sentiments, and ideas soon penetrated into all classes, and\nmoulded all the forms of Roman life. The elder Cato, as an acute observer\nhas noticed, desired all Greek philosophers to be expelled from Rome. The\nyounger Cato made Greek philosophers his most intimate friends.(355) Roman\nvirtue found its highest expression in Stoicism. Roman vice sheltered\nitself under the name of Epicurus. Diodorus of Sicily and Polybius first\nsketched in Greek the outlines of universal history. Dionysius of\nHalicarnassus explored Roman antiquities. Greek artists and Greek\narchitects thronged the city; but the first, under Roman influence,\nabandoned the ideal for the portrait, and the second degraded the noble\nCorinthian pillar into the bastard composite.(356) The theatre, which now\nstarted into sudden life, was borrowed altogether from the Greeks. Ennius\nand Pacuvius imitated Euripides; C\u00e6cilius, Plautus, Terence, and N\u00e6vius\ndevoted themselves chiefly to Menander. Even the lover in the days of\nLucretius painted his lady\u2019s charms in Greek.(357) Immense sums were given\nfor Greek literary slaves, and the attractions of the capital drew to Rome\nnearly all that was brilliant in Athenian society.\n\nWhile the complete ascendancy of the intellect and manners of Greece was\ndestroying the simplicity of the old Roman type, and at the same time\nenlarging the range of Roman sympathies, an equally powerful influence was\nbreaking down the aristocratic and class feeling which had so long raised\nan insurmountable barrier between the nobles and the plebeians. Their long\ncontentions had issued in the civil wars, the dictatorship of Julius\nC\u00e6sar, and the Empire, and these changes in a great measure obliterated\nthe old lines of demarcation. Foreign wars, which develop with great\nintensity distinctive national types, and divert the public mind from\ninternal changes, are usually favourable to the conservative spirit; but\ncivil wars are essentially revolutionary, for they overwhelm all class\nbarriers and throw open the highest prizes to energy and genius. Two very\nremarkable and altogether unprecedented illustrations of this truth\noccurred at Rome. Ventidius Bassus, by his military skill, and by the\nfriendship of Julius C\u00e6sar, and afterwards of Antony, rose from the\nposition of mule-driver to the command of a Roman army, and at last to the\nconsulate,(358) which was also attained, about 40 B.C., by the Spaniard\nCornelius Balbus.(359) Augustus, though the most aristocratic of emperors,\nin order to discourage celibacy, permitted all citizens who were not\nsenators to intermarry with freedwomen. The empire was in several distinct\nways unfavourable to class distinctions. It was for the most part\nessentially democratic, winning its popularity from the masses of the\npeople, and crushing the senate, which had been the common centre of\naristocracy and of freedom. A new despotic power, bearing alike on all\nclasses, reduced them to an equality of servitude. The emperors were\nthemselves in many cases the mere creatures of revolt, and their policy\nwas governed by their origin. Their jealousy struck down many of the\nnobles, while others were ruined by the public games, which it became\ncustomary to give, or by the luxury to which, in the absence of political\noccupations, they were impelled, and the relative importance of all was\ndiminished by the new creations. The ascendancy of wealth began to pass\ninto new quarters. Delators, or political informers, encouraged by the\nemperors, and enriched by the confiscated properties of those whose\ncondemnation they had procured, rose to great influence. From the time of\nCaligula, for several reigns, the most influential citizens were freedmen,\nwho occupied the principal offices in the palace, and usually obtained\ncomplete ascendancy over the emperors. Through them alone petitions were\npresented. By their instrumentality the Imperial favours were distributed.\nThey sometimes dethroned the emperors. They retained their power unshaken\nthrough a succession of revolutions. In wealth, in power, in the crowd of\ntheir courtiers, in the splendour of their palaces in life, and of their\ntombs in death, they eclipsed all others, and men whom the early Roman\npatricians would have almost disdained to notice, saw the proudest\nstruggling for their favour.(360)\n\nTogether with these influences many others of a kindred nature may be\ndetected. The colonial policy which the Gracchi had advocated was carried\nout at Narbonne, and during the latter days of Julius C\u00e6sar, to the\namazement and scandal of the Romans, Gauls of this province obtained seats\nin the senate.(361) The immense extent of the empire made it necessary for\nnumerous troops to remain during long periods of time in distant\nprovinces, and the foreign habits that were thus acquired began the\ndestruction of the exclusive feelings of the Roman army, which the\nsubsequent enrolment of barbarians completed. The public games, the\nimmense luxury, the concentration of power, wealth, and genius, made Rome\nthe centre of a vast and ceaseless concourse of strangers, the focus of\nall the various philosophies and religions of the empire, and its\npopulation soon became an amorphous, heterogeneous mass, in which all\nnations, customs, languages, and creeds, all degrees of virtue and vice,\nof refinement and barbarism, of scepticism and credulity, intermingled and\ninteracted. Travelling had become more easy and perhaps more frequent than\nit has been at any other period before the nineteenth century. The\nsubjection of the whole civilised world to a single rule removed the chief\nobstacles to locomotion. Magnificent roads, which modern nations have\nrarely rivalled and never surpassed, intersected the entire empire, and\nrelays of post-horses enabled the voyager to proceed with an astonishing\nrapidity. The sea, which, after the destruction of the fleets of Carthage,\nhad fallen almost completely under the dominion of pirates, had been\ncleared by Pompey. The European shores of the Mediterranean and the port\nof Alexandria were thronged with vessels. Romans traversed the whole\nextent of the empire on political, military, or commercial errands, or in\nsearch of health, or knowledge, or pleasure.(362) The entrancing beauties\nof Como and of Tempe, the luxurious manners of Bai\u00e6 and Corinth, the\nschools, commerce, climate, and temples of Alexandria, the soft winters of\nSicily, the artistic wonders and historic recollections of Athens and the\nNile, the great colonial interests of Gaul, attracted their thousands,\nwhile Roman luxury needed the products of the remotest lands, and the\ndemand for animals for the amphitheatre spread Roman enterprise into the\nwildest deserts. In the capital, the toleration accorded to different\ncreeds was such that the city soon became a miniature of the world. Almost\nevery variety of charlatanism and of belief displayed itself unchecked,\nand boasted its train of proselytes. Foreign ideas were in every form in\nthe ascendant. Greece, which had presided over the intellectual\ndevelopment of Rome, acquired a new influence under the favouring policy\nof Hadrian, and Greek became the language of some of the later as it had\nbeen of the earliest writers. Egyptian religions and philosophies excited\nthe wildest enthusiasm. As early as the reign of Augustus there were many\nthousands of Jewish residents at Rome,(363) and their manners and creed\nspread widely among the people.(364) The Carthaginian Apuleius,(365) the\nGauls Floras and Favorinus, the Spaniards Lucan, Columella, Martial,\nSeneca, and Quintilian, had all in their different departments a high\nplace in Roman literature or philosophy.\n\nIn the slave world a corresponding revolution was taking place. The large\nproportion of physicians and sculptors who were slaves, the appearance of\nthree or four distinguished authors in the slave class, the numerous\nliterary slaves imported from Greece, and the splendid examples of\ncourage, endurance, and devotion to their masters furnished by slaves\nduring the civil wars, and during some of the worst periods of the Empire,\nwere bridging the chasm between the servile and the free classes, and the\nsame tendency was more powerfully stimulated by the vast numbers and\noverwhelming influence of the freedmen. The enormous scale and frequent\nfluctuations of the great Roman establishments, and the innumerable\ncaptives reduced to slavery after every war, rendered manumission both\nfrequent and easy, and it was soon regarded as a normal result of faithful\nservice. Many slaves bought their freedom out of the savings which their\nmasters always permitted them to make. Others paid for it by their labour\nafter their emancipation. Some masters emancipated their slaves in order\nto obtain their part in the distribution of corn, others to prevent the\ndiscovery of their own crimes by the torture of their slaves, others\nthrough vanity, being desirous of having their funerals attended by a long\ntrain of freedmen, very many simply as a reward for long service.(366) The\nfreedman was still under what was termed the patronage of his former\nmaster; he was bound to him by what in a later age would have been called\na feudal tie, and the political and social importance of a noble depended\nin a very great degree upon the multitude of his clients. The children of\nthe emancipated slave were in the same relation to the patron, and it was\nonly in the third generation that all disqualifications and restraints\nwere abrogated. In consequence of this system, manumission was often the\ninterest of the master. In the course of his life he enfranchised\nindividual slaves. On his death-bed or by his will he constantly\nemancipated multitudes. Emancipation by testament acquired such\ndimensions, that Augustus found it necessary to restrict the power; and he\nmade several limitations, of which the most important was that no one\nshould emancipate by his will more than one hundred of his slaves.(367) It\nwas once proposed that the slaves should be distinguished by a special\ndress, but the proposition was abandoned because their number was so great\nthat to reveal to them their strength would be to place the city at their\nmercy.(368) Even among those who were not slaves, the element that was\nderived from slavery soon preponderated. The majority of the free\npopulation had probably either themselves been slaves, or were descended\nfrom slaves, and men with this tainted lineage penetrated to all the\noffices of the State.(369) \u201cThere was,\u201d as has been well said, \u201ca\ncirculation of men from all the universe. Rome received them slaves, and\nsent them back Romans.\u201d(370)\n\nIt is manifest how profound a change had taken place since the Republican\ndays, when the highest dignities were long monopolised by a single class,\nwhen the censors repressed with a stringent severity every form or\nexhibition of luxury, when the rhetoricians were banished from the city,\nlest the faintest tinge of foreign manners should impair the stern\nsimplicity of the people, and when the proposal to transfer the capital to\nVeii, after a great disaster, was rejected on the ground that it would be\nimpious to worship the Roman deities anywhere but on the Capitol, or for\nthe Flamens and the Vestals to emigrate beyond the walls.(371)\n\nThe greater number of these tendencies to universal fusion or equality\nwere blind forces resulting from the stress of circumstances, and not from\nany human forethought, or were agencies that were put in motion for a\ndifferent object. It must, however, be acknowledged that a definite theory\nof policy had a considerable part in accelerating the movement. The policy\nof the Republic may be broadly described as a policy of conquest, and that\nof the Empire as a policy of preservation. The Romans having acquired a\nvast dominion, were met by the great problem which every first-class power\nis called upon to solve\u2014by what means many communities, with different\nlanguages, customs, characters, and traditions, can be retained peaceably\nunder a single ruler. In modern times, this difficulty has been most\nsuccessfully met by local legislatures, which, if they supply a \u201cline of\ncleavage,\u201d a nucleus around which the spirit of opposition may form, have\non the other hand the priceless advantage of giving the annexed people a\nlarge measure of self-government, a centre and safety-valve of local\npublic opinion, a sphere for local ambitions, and a hierarchy of\ninstitutions adapted to the distinctive national type. Under no other\nconditions can a complex empire be carried on with so little strain, or\neffort, or humiliation, or its inevitable final dissolution be effected\nwith so little danger or convulsion. But local legislatures, which are the\nespecial glory of English statesmanship, belong exclusively to modern\ncivilisation. The Roman method of conciliation was, first of all, the most\nample toleration of the customs, religion, and municipal freedom of the\nconquered, and then their gradual admission to the privileges of the\nconqueror. By confiding to them in a great measure the defence of the\nempire, by throwing open to them the offices of State, and especially by\naccording to them the right of Roman citizenship, which had been for\ncenturies jealously restricted to the inhabitants of Rome, and was\nafterwards only conceded to Italy and Cisalpine Gaul, the emperors sought\nto attach them to their throne. The process was very gradual, but the\nwhole movement of political emancipation attained its completion when the\nImperial throne was occupied by the Spaniard Trajan, and by Pertinax, the\nson of a freedman, and when an edict of Caracalla extended the rights of\nRoman citizenship to all the provinces of the empire.\n\nIt will appear evident, from the foregoing sketch, that the period which\nelapsed between Pan\u00e6tius and Constantine exhibited an irresistible\ntendency to cosmopolitanism. The convergence, when we consider the number,\nforce, and harmony of the influences that composed it, is indeed\nunexampled in history. The movement extended through all the fields of\nreligious, philosophical, political, industrial, military, and domestic\nlife. The character of the people was completely transformed, the\nlandmarks of all its institutions were removed, the whole principle of its\norganisation was reversed. It would be impossible to find a more striking\nexample of the manner in which events govern character, destroying old\nhabits and associations, and thus altering that national type of\nexcellence which is, for the most part, the expression or net moral result\nof the national institutions and circumstances. The effect of the movement\nwas, no doubt, in many respects evil, and some of the best men, such as\nthe elder Cato and Tacitus, opposed it, as leading to the demoralisation\nof the empire; but if it increased vice, it also gave a peculiar character\nto virtue. It was impossible that the conception of excellence, formed in\na society where everything conspired to deepen class divisions and\nnational jealousies and antipathies, should be retained unaltered in a\nperiod of universal intercourse and amalgamation. The moral expression of\nthe first period is obviously to be found in the narrower military and\npatriotic virtues; that of the second period in enlarged philanthropy and\nsympathy.\n\nThe Stoical philosophy was admirably fitted to preside over this extension\nof sympathies. Although it proved itself in every age the chief school of\npatriots, it recognised also, from the very first, and in the most\nunequivocal manner, the fraternity of mankind. The Stoic taught that\nvirtue alone is a good, and that all other things are indifferent; and\nfrom this position he inferred that birth, rank, country, or wealth are\nthe mere accidents of life, and that virtue alone makes one man superior\nto another. He taught also that the Deity is an all-pervading Spirit,\nanimating the universe, and revealed with especial clearness in the soul\nof man; and he concluded that all men are fellow-members of a single body,\nunited by participation in the same Divine Spirit. These two doctrines\nformed part of the very first teaching of the Stoics, but it was the\nspecial glory of the Roman teachers, and an obvious result of the\ncondition of affairs I have described, to have brought them into full\nrelief. One of the most emphatic as well as one of the earliest extant\nassertions of the duty of \u201ccharity to the human race,\u201d(372) occurs in the\ntreatise of Cicero upon duties, which was avowedly based upon Stoicism.\nWriting at a period when the movement of amalgamation had for a generation\nbeen rapidly proceeding,(373) and adopting almost without restriction the\nethics of the Stoics, Cicero maintained the doctrine of universal\nbrotherhood as distinctly as it was afterwards maintained by the Christian\nChurch. \u201cThis whole world,\u201d he tells us, \u201cis to be regarded as the common\ncity of gods and men.\u201d(374) \u201cMen were born for the sake of men, that each\nshould assist the others.\u201d(375) \u201cNature ordains that a man should wish the\ngood of every man, whoever he may be, for this very reason, that he is a\nman.\u201d(376) \u201cTo reduce man to the duties of his own city and to disengage\nhim from duties to the members of other cities, is to break the universal\nsociety of the human race.\u201d(377) \u201cNature has inclined us to love men, and\nthis is the foundation of the law.\u201d(378) The same principles were\nreiterated with increasing emphasis by the later Stoics. Adopting the\nwell-known line which Terence had translated from Menander, they\nmaintained that man should deem nothing human foreign to his interest.\nLucan expatiated with all the fervour of a Christian poet upon the time\nwhen \u201cthe human race will cast aside its weapons, and when all nations\nwill learn to love.\u201d(379) \u201cThe whole universe,\u201d said Seneca, \u201cwhich you\nsee around you, comprising all things, both divine and human, is one. We\nare members of one great body. Nature has made us relatives when it begat\nus from the same materials and for the same destinies. She planted in us a\nmutual love, and fitted us for a social life.\u201d(380) \u201cWhat is a Roman\nknight, or freedman, or slave? These are but names springing from ambition\nor from injury.\u201d(381) \u201cI know that my country is the world, and my\nguardians are the gods.\u201d(382) \u201cYou are a citizen,\u201d said Epictetus, \u201cand a\npart of the world.... The duty of a citizen is in nothing to consider his\nown interest distinct from that of others, as the hand or foot, if they\npossessed reason and understood the law of nature, would do and wish\nnothing that had not some relation to the rest of the body.\u201d(383) \u201cAn\nAntonine,\u201d said Marcus Aurelius, \u201cmy country is Rome; as a man, it is the\nworld.\u201d(384)\n\nSo far Stoicism appears fully equal to the moral requirements of the age.\nIt would be impossible to recognise more cordially or to enforce more\nbeautifully that doctrine of universal brotherhood for which the\ncircumstances of the Roman Empire had made men ripe. Plato had said that\nno one is born for himself alone, but that he owes himself in part to his\ncountry, in part to his parents, and in part to his friends. The Roman\nStoics, taking a wider survey, declared that man is born not for himself\nbut for the whole world.(385) And their doctrine was perfectly consistent\nwith the original principles of their school.\n\nBut while Stoicism was quite capable of representing the widening\nmovement, it was not equally capable of representing the softening\nmovement of civilisation. Its condemnation of the affections, and its\nstern, tense ideal, admirably fitted for the struggles of a simple\nmilitary age, were unsuited for the mild manners and luxurious tastes of\nthe age of the Antonines. A class of writers began to arise who, like the\nStoics, believed virtue, rather than enjoyment, to be the supreme good,\nand who acknowledged that virtue consisted solely of the control which the\nenlightened will exercises over the desires, but who at the same time gave\nfree scope to the benevolent affections and a more religious and mystical\ntone to the whole scheme of morals. Professing various speculative\ndoctrines, and calling themselves by many names\u2014eclectics, peripatetics,\nor Platonists\u2014they agreed in forming or representing a moral character,\nless strong, less sublime, less capable of endurance and heroism, less\nconspicuous for energy of will, than that of the Stoics, but far more\ntender and attractive. The virtues of force began to recede, and the\ngentler virtues to advance, in the moral type. Insensibility to suffering\nwas no longer professed; indomitable strength was no longer idolised, and\nit was felt that weakness and sorrow have their own appropriate\nvirtues.(386) The works of these writers are full of delicate touches\nwhich nothing but strong and lively feelings could have suggested. We find\nthis in the well-known letter of Pliny on the death of his slaves,(387) in\nthe frequent protests against the ostentation of indifference with which\nthe Stoics regarded the loss of their friends, in many instances of\nsimple, artless pathos, which strike the finest chords of our nature. When\nPlutarch, after the death of his daughter, was writing a letter of\nconsolation to his wife, we find him turning away from all the\ncommonplaces of the Stoics as the recollection of one simple trait of his\nlittle child rushed upon his mind:\u2014\u201cShe desired her nurse to press even\nher dolls to the breast. She was so loving that she wished everything that\ngave her pleasure to share in the best of what she had.\u201d\n\nPlutarch, whose fame as a biographer has, I think, unduly eclipsed his\nreputation as a moralist, may be justly regarded as the leader of this\nmovement, and his moral writings may be profitably compared with those of\nSeneca, the most ample exponent of the sterner school. Seneca is not\nunfrequently self-conscious, theatrical, and overstrained. His precepts\nhave something of the affected ring of a popular preacher. The imperfect\nfusion of his short sentences gives his style a disjointed and, so to\nspeak, granulated character, which the Emperor Caligula happily expressed\nwhen he compared it to sand without cement; yet he often rises to a\nmajesty of eloquence, a grandeur both of thought and of expression, that\nfew moralists have ever rivalled. Plutarch, though far less sublime, is\nmore sustained, equable, and uniformly pleasing. The Montaigne of\nantiquity, his genius coruscates playfully and gracefully around his\nsubject; he delights in illustrations which are often singularly vivid and\noriginal, but which, by their excessive multiplication, appear sometimes\nrather the texture than the ornament of his discourse. A gentle, tender\nspirit, and a judgment equally free from paradox, exaggeration, and\nexcessive subtilty, are the characteristics of all he wrote. Plutarch\nexcels most in collecting motives of consolation; Seneca in forming\ncharacters that need no consolation. There is something of the woman in\nPlutarch; Seneca is all a man. The writings of the first resemble the\nstrains of the flute, to which the ancients attributed the power of\ncalming the passions and charming away the clouds of sorrow, and drawing\nmen by a gentle suasion into the paths of virtue; the writings of the\nother are like the trumpet-blast, which kindles the soul with an heroic\ncourage. The first is most fitted to console a mother sorrowing over her\ndead child, the second to nerve a brave man, without flinching and without\nillusion, to grapple with an inevitable fate.\n\nThe elaborate letters which Seneca has left us on distinctive tenets of\nthe Stoical school, such as the equality of vices or the evil of the\naffections, have now little more than an historic interest; but the\ngeneral tone of his writings gives them a permanent importance, for they\nreflect and foster a certain type of excellence which, since the\nextinction of Stoicism, has had no adequate expression in literature. The\nprevailing moral tone of Plutarch, on the other hand, being formed mainly\non the prominence of the amiable virtues, has been eclipsed or transcended\nby the Christian writers, but his definite contributions to philosophy and\nmorals are more important than those of Seneca. He has left us one of the\nbest works on superstition, and one of the most ingenious works on\nProvidence, we possess. He was probably the first writer who advocated\nvery strongly humanity to animals on the broad ground of universal\nbenevolence, as distinguished from the Pythagorean doctrine of\ntransmigration, and he was also remarkable, beyond all his contemporaries,\nfor his high sense of female excellence and of the sanctity of female\nlove.\n\nThe Romans had at all times cared more for the practical tendency of a\nsystem of philosophy than for its logical or speculative consistency. One\nof the chief attractions of Stoicism, in their eyes, had been that its\nmain object was not to build a system of opinion, but to propose a pattern\nof life,(388) and Stoicism itself was only adapted to the Roman character\nafter it had been simplified by Pan\u00e6tius.(389) Although the system could\nnever free itself altogether from that hardness which rendered it so\nunsuited for an advanced civilisation, it was profoundly modified by the\nlater Stoics, who rarely scrupled to temper it by the admixture of new\ndoctrines. Seneca himself was by no means an unmixed Stoic. If Epictetus\nwas more nearly so, this was probably because the extreme hardship he\nunderwent made him dwell more than his contemporaries upon the importance\nof fortitude and endurance. Marcus Aurelius was surrounded by the\ndisciples of the most various schools, and his Stoicism was much tinctured\nby the milder and more religious spirit of Platonism. The Stoics, like all\nother men, felt the moral current of the time, though they yielded to it\nless readily than some others. In Thrasea, who occupied in his age a\nposition analogous to that of Cato in an earlier period, we find little or\nnothing of the asperity and hardness of his great prototype. In the\nwritings of the later Stoics, if we find the same elements as in those of\ntheir predecessors, these elements are at least combined in different\nproportions.\n\nIn the first place, Stoicism became more essentially religious. The\nStoical character, like all others of a high order, had always been\nreverential; but its reverence differed widely from that of Christians. It\nwas concentrated much less upon the Deity than upon virtue, and especially\nupon virtue as exhibited in great men. When Lucan, extolling his hero,\nboasted that \u201cthe gods favoured the conquering cause, but Cato the\nconquered,\u201d or when Seneca described \u201cthe fortune of Sulla\u201d as \u201cthe crime\nof the gods,\u201d these sentences, which sound to modern ears grossly\nblasphemous, appear to have excited no murmur. We have already seen the\naudacious language with which the sage claimed an equality with the\nDivinity. On the other hand, the reverence for virtue apart from all\nconditions of success, and especially for men of the stamp of Cato, who\nthrough a strong moral conviction struggled bravely, though\nunsuccessfully, against force, genius, or circumstances, was perhaps more\nsteady and more passionate than in any later age. The duty of absolute\nsubmission to Providence, as I have already shown, was continually\ninculcated, and the pantheistic notion of all virtue being a part or\nemanation of the Deity was often asserted, but man was still the centre of\nthe Stoic\u2019s scheme, the ideal to which his reverence and devotion aspired.\nIn later Stoicism this point of view was gradually changed. Without any\nformal abandonment of their pantheistic conceptions, the language of\nphilosophers recognised with much greater clearness a distinct and\npersonal Divinity. Every page of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius is\nimpregnated with the deepest religious feeling. \u201cThe first thing to\nlearn,\u201d said the former, \u201cis that there is a God, that His knowledge\npervades the whole universe, and that it extends not only to our acts but\nto our thoughts and feelings.... He who seeks to please the gods must\nlabour as far as lies in him to resemble them. He must be faithful as God\nis faithful, free as He is free, beneficent as He is beneficent,\nmagnanimous as He is magnanimous.\u201d(390) \u201cTo have God for our maker and\nfather and guardian, should not that emancipate us from all sadness and\nfrom all fear?\u201d(391) \u201cWhen you have shut your door and darkened your room,\nsay not to yourself you are alone. God is in your room, and your attendant\ngenius likewise. Think not that they need the light to see what you\ndo.(392) What can I, an old man and a cripple, do but praise God? If I\nwere a nightingale, I would discharge the office of a nightingale; if a\nswan, that of a swan. But I am a reasonable being; my mission is to praise\nGod, and I fulfil it; nor shall I ever, as far as lies in me, shrink from\nmy task, and I exhort you to join in the same song of praise.\u201d(393)\n\nThe same religious character is exhibited, if possible, in a still greater\ndegree in the \u201cMeditations\u201d of Marcus Aurelius; but in one respect the\nethics of the emperor differ widely from those of the slave. In Epictetus\nwe invariably find the strongest sense of the majesty of man. As the child\nof the Deity, as a being capable of attaining the most exalted virtue, he\nmagnified him to the highest point, and never more so than in the very\npassage in which he exhorted his disciples to beware of haughtiness. The\nJupiter Olympus of Phidias, he reminds them, exhibits no arrogance, but\nthe unclouded serenity of perfect confidence and strength.(394) Marcus\nAurelius, on the other hand, dwelt rather on the weakness than on the\nforce of man, and his meditations breathe a spirit, if not of Christian\nhumility, at least of the gentlest and most touching modesty. He was not,\nit is true, like some later saints, who habitually apply to themselves\nlanguage of reprobation which would be exaggerated if applied to the\nmurderer or the adulterer. He did not shrink from recognising human virtue\nas a reality, and thanking Providence for the degree in which he had\nattained it, but he continually reviewed with an unsparing severity the\nweaknesses of his character, he accepted and even solicited reproofs from\nevery teacher of virtue, he made it his aim, in a position of supreme\npower, to check every emotion of arrogance and pride, and he set before\nhim an ideal of excellence which awed and subdued his mind.\n\nAnother very remarkable feature of later Stoicism was its increasingly\nintrospective character. In the philosophy of Cato and Cicero, virtue was\ndisplayed almost exclusively in action. In the later Stoics,\nself-examination and purity of thought were continually inculcated. There\nare some writers who, with an obstinacy which it is more easy to explain\nthan to excuse, persist, in defiance of the very clearest evidence to the\ncontrary, in representing these virtues as exclusively Christian, and in\nmaintaining, without a shadow of proof, that the place they undeniably\noccupy in the later Roman moralists was due to the direct or indirect\ninfluence of the new faith. The plain fact is that they were fully known\nto the Greeks, and both Plato and Zeno even exhorted men to study their\ndreams, on the ground that these often reveal the latent tendencies of the\ndisposition.(395) Pythagoras urged his disciples daily to examine\nthemselves when they retired to rest,(396) and this practice soon became a\nrecognised part of the Pythagorean discipline.(397) It was introduced into\nRome with the school before the close of the Republic. It was known in the\ntime of Cicero(398) and Horace.(399) Sextius, one of the masters of\nSeneca, a philosopher of the school of Pythagoras, who flourished chiefly\nbefore the Christian era, was accustomed daily to devote a portion of time\nto self-examination; and Seneca, who at first inclined much to the tenets\nof Pythagoras,(400) expressly tells us that it was from Sextius he learnt\nthe practice.(401) The increasing prominence of the Pythagorean philosophy\nwhich accompanied the invasion of Oriental creeds, the natural tendency of\nthe empire, by closing the avenues of political life, to divert the\nattention from action to emotion, and also the increased latitude allowed\nto the play of the sympathies or affections by the later Stoics, brought\nthis emotional part of virtue into great prominence. The letters of Seneca\nare a kind of moral medicine applied for the most part to the cure of\ndifferent infirmities of character. Plutarch, in a beautiful treatise on\n\u201cThe Signs of Moral Progress,\u201d treated the culture of the feelings with\ndelicate skill. The duty of serving the Divinity with a pure mind rather\nthan by formal rites became a commonplace of literature, and\nself-examination one of the most recognised of duties. Epictetus urged men\nso to purify their imaginations, that at the sight of a beautiful woman\nthey should not even mentally exclaim, \u201cHappy her husband!\u201d(402) The\nmeditations of Marcus Aurelius, above all, are throughout an exercise of\nself-examination, and the duty of watching over the thoughts is\ncontinually inculcated.\n\nIt was a saying of Plutarch that Stoicism, which sometimes exercised a\nprejudicial and hardening influence upon characters that were by nature\nstern and unbending, proved peculiarly useful as a cordial to those which\nwere naturally gentle and yielding. Of this truth we can have no better\nillustration than is furnished by the life and writings of Marcus\nAurelius, the last and most perfect representative of Roman Stoicism. A\nsimple, childlike, and eminently affectionate disposition, with little\nstrength of intellect or perhaps originally of will, much more inclined to\nmeditation, speculation, solitude, or friendship, than to active and\npublic life, with a profound aversion to the pomp of royalty and with a\nrather strong natural leaning to pedantry, he had embraced the fortifying\nphilosophy of Zeno in its best form, and that philosophy made him perhaps\nas nearly a perfectly virtuous man as has ever appeared upon our world.\nTried by the chequered events of a reign of nineteen years, presiding over\na society that was profoundly corrupt, and over a city that was notorious\nfor its license, the perfection of his character awed even calumny to\nsilence, and the spontaneous sentiment of his people proclaimed him rather\na god than a man.(403) Very few men have ever lived concerning whose inner\nlife we can speak so confidently. His \u201cMeditations,\u201d which form one of the\nmost impressive, form also one of the truest books in the whole range of\nreligious literature. They consist of rude fragmentary notes without\nliterary skill or arrangement, written for the most part in hasty, broken,\nand sometimes almost unintelligible sentences amid the turmoil of a\ncamp,(404) and recording, in accents of the most penetrating sincerity,\nthe struggles, doubts, and aims of a soul of which, to employ one of his\nown images, it may be truly said that it possessed the purity of a star,\nwhich needs no veil to hide its nakedness. The undisputed master of the\nwhole civilised world, he set before him as models such men as Thrasea and\nHelvidius, as Cato and Brutus, and he made it his aim to realise the\nconception of a free State in which all citizens are equal, and of a\nroyalty which makes it its first duty to respect the liberty of the\ncitizens.(405) His life was passed in unremitting activity. For nearly\ntwelve years he was absent with armies in the distant provinces of the\nempire; and although his political capacity has been much and perhaps\njustly questioned, it is impossible to deny the unwearied zeal with which\nhe discharged the duties of his great position. Yet few men have ever\ncarried farther the virtue of little things, the delicate moral tact and\nthe minute scruples which, though often exhibited by women and by secluded\nreligionists, very rarely survive much contact with active life. The\nsolicitude with which he endeavoured to persuade two jealous rhetoricians\nto abstain during their debates from retorts that might destroy their\nfriendship,(406) the careful gratitude with which, in a camp in Hungary,\nhe recalled every moral obligation he could trace, even to the most\nobscure of his tutors,(407) his anxiety to avoid all pedantry and\nmannerism in his conduct,(408) and to repel every voluptuous imagination\nfrom his mind,(409) his deep sense of the obligation of purity,(410) his\nlaborious efforts to correct a habit of drowsiness into which he had\nfallen, and his self-reproval when he had yielded to it,(411) become all,\nI think, inexpressibly touching when we remember that they were exhibited\nby one who was the supreme ruler of the civilised globe, and who was\ncontinually engaged in the direction of the most gigantic interests. But\nthat which is especially remarkable in Marcus Aurelius is the complete\nabsence of fanaticism in his philanthropy. Despotic monarchs sincerely\nanxious to improve mankind are naturally led to endeavour, by acts of\nlegislation, to force society into the paths which they believe to be\ngood, and such men, acting under such motives, have sometimes been the\nscourges of mankind. Philip II. and Isabella the Catholic inflicted more\nsuffering in obedience to their consciences than Nero and Domitian in\nobedience to their lusts. But Marcus Aurelius steadily resisted the\ntemptation. \u201cNever hope,\u201d he once wrote, \u201cto realise Plato\u2019s Republic. Let\nit be sufficient that you have in some slight degree ameliorated mankind,\nand do not think that amelioration a matter of small importance. Who can\nchange the opinions of men? and without a change of sentiments what can\nyou make but reluctant slaves and hypocrites?\u201d(412) He promulgated many\nlaws inspired by a spirit of the purest benevolence. He mitigated the\ngladiatorial shows. He treated with invariable deference the senate, which\nwas the last bulwark of political freedom. He endowed many chairs of\nphilosophy which were intended to diffuse knowledge and moral teaching\nthrough the people. He endeavoured by the example of his Court to correct\nthe extravagances of luxury that were prevalent, and he exhibited in his\nown career a perfect model of an active and conscientious administrator;\nbut he made no rash efforts to force the people by stringent laws out of\nthe natural channel of their lives. Of the corruption of his subjects he\nwas keenly sensible, and he bore it with a mournful but gentle patience.\nWe may trace in this respect the milder spirit of those Greek teachers who\nhad diverged from Stoicism, but it was especially from the Stoical\ndoctrine that all vice springs from ignorance that he derived his rule of\nlife, and this doctrine, to which he repeatedly recurred, imparted to all\nhis judgments a sad but tender charity. \u201cMen were made for men; correct\nthem, then, or support them.\u201d(413) \u201cIf they do ill, it is evidently in\nspite of themselves and through ignorance.\u201d(414) \u201cCorrect them if you can;\nif not, remember that patience was given you to exercise it in their\nbehalf.\u201d(415) \u201cIt would be shameful for a physician to deem it strange\nthat a man was suffering from fever.\u201d(416) \u201cThe immortal gods consent for\ncountless ages to endure without anger, and even to surround with\nblessings, so many and such wicked men; but thou who hast so short a time\nto live, art thou already weary, and that when thou art thyself\nwicked?\u201d(417) \u201cIt is involuntarily that the soul is deprived of justice,\nand temperance, and goodness, and all other virtues. Continually remember\nthis; the thought will make you more gentle to all mankind.\u201d(418) \u201cIt is\nright that man should love those who have offended him. He will do so when\nhe remembers that all men are his relations, and that it is through\nignorance and involuntarily that they sin\u2014and then we all die so\nsoon.\u201d(419)\n\nThe character of the virtue of Marcus Aurelius, though exhibiting the\nsoftening influence of the Greek spirit which in his time pervaded the\nempire, was in its essentials strictly Roman.(420) Though full of\nreverential gratitude to Providence, we do not find in him that intense\nhumility and that deep and subtle religious feeling which were the\nprinciples of Hebrew virtue, and which have given the Jewish writers so\ngreat an ascendancy over the hearts of men. Though borne naturally and\ninstinctively to goodness, his \u201cMeditations\u201d do not display the keen\n\u00e6sthetical sense of the beauty of virtue which was the leading motive of\nGreek morals, and which the writing of Plotinus afterwards made very\nfamiliar to the Roman world. Like most of the best Romans, the principle\nof his virtue was the sense of duty, the conviction of the existence of a\nlaw of nature to which it is the aim and purpose of our being to conform.\nOf secondary motives he appears to have been little sensible. The belief\nin a superintending Providence was the strongest of his religious\nconvictions, but even that was occasionally overcast. On the subject of a\nfuture world his mind floated in a desponding doubt. The desire for\nposthumous fame he deemed it his duty systematically to mortify. While\nmost writers of his school regarded death chiefly as the end of sorrows,\nand dwelt upon it in order to dispel its terrors, in Marcus Aurelius it is\nchiefly represented as the last great demonstration of the vanity of\nearthly things. Seldom, indeed, has such active and unrelaxing virtue been\nunited with so little enthusiasm, and been cheered by so little illusion\nof success. \u201cThere is but one thing,\u201d he wrote, \u201cof real value\u2014to\ncultivate truth and justice, and to live without anger in the midst of\nlying and unjust men.\u201d(421)\n\nThe command he had acquired over his feelings was so great that it was\nsaid of him that his countenance was never known to betray either elation\nor despondency.(422) We, however, who have before us the records of his\ninner life, can have no difficulty in detecting the deep melancholy that\novershadowed his mind, and his closing years were darkened by many and\nvarious sorrows. His wife, whom he dearly loved and deeply honoured, and\nwho, if we may believe the Court scandals that are reported by historians,\nwas not worthy of his affection,(423) had preceded him to the tomb. His\nonly surviving son had already displayed the vicious tendencies that\nafterwards made him one of the worst of rulers. The philosophers, who had\ninstructed him in his youth, and to whom he had clung with an affectionate\nfriendship, had one by one disappeared, and no new race had arisen to\nsupply their place. After a long reign of self-denying virtue, he saw the\ndecadence of the empire continually more apparent. The Stoical school was\nrapidly fading before the passion for Oriental superstitions. The\nbarbarians, repelled for a time, were again menacing the frontiers, and it\nwas not difficult to foresee their future triumph. The mass of the people\nhad become too inert and too corrupt for any efforts to regenerate them. A\nfearful pestilence, followed by many minor calamities, had fallen upon the\nland and spread misery and panic through many provinces. In the midst of\nthese calamities, the emperor was struck down with a mortal illness, which\nhe bore with the placid courage he had always displayed, exhibiting in\nalmost the last words he uttered his forgetfulness of self and his\nconstant anxiety for the condition of his people.(424) Shortly before his\ndeath he dismissed his attendants, and, after one last interview, his son,\nand he died as he long had lived, alone.(425)\n\nThus sank to rest in clouds and darkness the purest and gentlest spirit of\nall the pagan world, the most perfect model of the later Stoics. In him\nthe hardness, asperity, and arrogance of the sect had altogether\ndisappeared, while the affectation its paradoxes tended to produce was\ngreatly mitigated. Without fanaticism, superstition, or illusion, his\nwhole life was regulated by a simple and unwavering sense of duty. The\ncontemplative and emotional virtues which Stoicism had long depressed, had\nregained their place, but the active virtues had not yet declined. The\nvirtues of the hero were still deeply honoured, but gentleness and\ntenderness had acquired a new prominence in the ideal type.\n\nBut while the force of circumstances was thus developing the ethical\nconceptions of antiquity in new directions, the mass of the Roman people\nwere plunged in a condition of depravity which no mere ethical teaching\ncould adequately correct. The moral condition of the empire is, indeed, in\nsome respects one of the most appalling pictures on record, and writers\nhave much more frequently undertaken to paint or even to exaggerate its\nenormity than to investigate the circumstances by which it may be\nexplained. Such circumstances, however, must unquestionably exist. There\nis no reason to believe that the innate propensities of the people were\nworse during the Empire than during the best days of the Republic. The\ndepravity of a nation is a phenomenon which, like all others, may be\ntraced to definite causes, and in the instance before us they are not\ndifficult to discover.\n\nI have already said that the virtue of the Romans was a military and\npatriotic virtue, formed by the national institutions, and to which\nreligious teaching was merely accessory. The domestic, military, and\ncensorial discipline, concurring with the general poverty and also with\nthe agricultural pursuits of the people, had created the simplest and most\naustere habits, while the institutions of civic liberty provided ample\nspheres for honourable ambition. The nobles, being the highest body in a\nfree State, and being at the same time continually confronted by a\nformidable opposition under the guidance of the tribunes, were ardently\ndevoted to public life. The dangerous rivalry of the surrounding Italian\nStates, and afterwards of Carthage, demanded and secured a constant\nvigilance. Roman education was skilfully designed to elicit heroic\npatriotism, and the great men of the past became the ideal figures of the\nimagination. Religion hallowed the local feeling by rites and legends,\ninstituted many useful and domestic habits, taught men the sanctity of\noaths, and, by fostering a continual sense of a superintending Providence,\ngave a depth and solemnity to the whole character.\n\nSuch were the chief influences by which the national type of virtue had\nbeen formed, but nearly all of these were corroded or perverted by\nadvancing civilisation. The domestic and local religion lost its\nascendancy amid the increase of scepticism and the invasion of a crowd of\nforeign superstitions. The simplicity of manners, which sumptuary laws and\nthe institution of the censorship had long maintained, was replaced by the\nextravagances of a Babylonian luxury. The aristocratic dignity perished\nwith the privileges on which it reposed. The patriotic energy and\nenthusiasm died away in a universal empire which embraced all varieties of\nlanguage, custom, and nationality.\n\nBut although the virtues of a poor and struggling community necessarily\ndisappear before increasing luxury, they are in a normal condition of\nsociety replaced by virtues of a different stamp. Gentler manners and\nenlarged benevolence follow in the train of civilisation, greater\nintellectual activity and more extended industrial enterprise give a new\nimportance to the moral qualities which each of these require, the circle\nof political interests expands, and if the virtues that spring from\nprivilege diminish, the virtues that spring from equality increase.\n\nIn Rome, however, there were three great causes which impeded the normal\ndevelopment\u2014the Imperial system, the institution of slavery, and the\ngladiatorial shows. Each of these exercised an influence of the widest and\nmost pernicious character on the morals of the people. To trace those\ninfluences in all their ramifications would lead me far beyond the limits\nI have assigned to the present work, but I shall endeavour to give a\nconcise view of their nature and general character.\n\nThe theory of the Roman Empire was that of a representative despotism. The\nvarious offices of the Republic were not annihilated, but they were\ngradually concentrated in a single man. The senate was still ostensibly\nthe depository of supreme power, but it was made in fact the mere creature\nof the Emperor, whose power was virtually uncontrolled. Political spies\nand private accusers, who in the latter days of the Republic had been\nencouraged to denounce plots against the State, began under Augustus to\ndenounce plots against the Emperor; and the class being enormously\nincreased under Tiberius, and stimulated by the promise of part of the\nconfiscated property, they menaced every leading politician and even every\nwealthy man. The nobles were gradually depressed, ruined, or driven by the\ndangers of public life into orgies of private luxury. The poor were\nconciliated, not by any increase of liberty or even of permanent\nprosperity, but by gratuitous distributions of corn and by public games,\nwhile, in order to invest themselves with a sacred character, the emperors\nadopted the religious device of an apotheosis.\n\nThis last superstition, of which some traces may still be found in the\ntitles appropriated to royalty, was not wholly a suggestion of\npoliticians. Deified men had long occupied a prominent place in ancient\nbelief, and the founders of cities had been very frequently worshipped by\nthe inhabitants.(426) Although to more educated minds the ascription of\ndivinity to a sovereign was simply an unmeaning flattery, although it in\nno degree prevented either innumerable plots against his life, or an\nunsparing criticism of his memory, yet the popular reverence not\nunfrequently anticipated politicians in representing the emperor as in\nsome special way under the protection of Providence. Around Augustus a\nwhole constellation of miraculous stories soon clustered. An oracle, it\nwas said, had declared his native city destined to produce a ruler of the\nworld. When a child, he had been borne by invisible hands from his cradle,\nand placed on a lofty tower, where he was found with his face turned to\nthe rising sun. He rebuked the frogs that croaked around his grandfather\u2019s\nhome, and they became silent for ever. An eagle snatched a piece of bread\nfrom his hand, soared into the air, and then, descending, presented it to\nhim again. Another eagle dropped at his feet a chicken, bearing a\nlaurel-branch in its beak. When his body was burnt, his image was seen\nrising to heaven above the flames. When another man tried to sleep in the\nbed in which the Emperor had been born, the profane intruder was dragged\nforth by an unseen hand. A patrician named L\u00e6torius, having been condemned\nfor adultery, pleaded in mitigation of the sentence that he was the happy\npossessor of the spot of ground on which Augustus was born.(427) An\nAsiatic town, named Cyzicus, was deprived of its freedom by Tiberius,\nchiefly because it had neglected the worship of Augustus.(428) Partly, no\ndoubt, by policy, but partly also by that spontaneous process by which in\na superstitious age conspicuous characters so often become the nuclei of\nlegends,(429) each emperor was surrounded by a supernatural aureole. Every\nusurpation, every break in the ordinary line of succession, was adumbrated\nby a series of miracles; and signs, both in heaven and earth, were\nmanifested whenever an emperor was about to die.\n\nOf the emperors themselves, a great majority, no doubt, accepted their\ndivine honours as an empty pageant, and more than one exhibited beneath\nthe purple a simplicity of tastes and character which the boasted heroes\nof the Republic had never surpassed. It is related of Vespasian that, when\ndying, he jested mournfully on his approaching dignity, observing, as he\nfelt his strength ebbing away, \u201cI think I am becoming a god.\u201d(430)\nAlexander Severus and Julian refused to accept the ordinary language of\nadulation, and of those who did not reject it we know that many looked\nupon it as a modern sovereign looks upon the phraseology of petitions or\nthe ceremonies of the Court. Even Nero was so far from being intoxicated\nwith his Imperial dignity that he continually sought triumphs as a singer\nor an actor, and it was his artistic skill, not his divine prerogatives,\nthat excited his vanity.(431) Caligula, however, who appears to have been\nliterally deranged,(432) is said to have accepted his divinity as a\nserious fact, to have substituted his own head for that of Jupiter on many\nof the statues,(433) and to have once started furiously from his seat\nduring a thunderstorm that had interrupted a gladiatorial show, shouting\nwith frantic gestures his imprecations against Heaven, and declaring that\nthe divided empire was indeed intolerable, that either Jupiter or himself\nmust speedily succumb.(434) Heliogabalus, if we may give any credence to\nhis biographer, confounded all things, human and divine, in hideous and\nblasphemous orgies, and designed to unite all forms of religion in the\nworship of himself.(435)\n\nA curious consequence of this apotheosis was that the images of the\nemperors were invested with a sacred character like those of the gods.\nThey were the recognised refuge of the slave or the oppressed,(436) and\nthe smallest disrespect to them was resented as a heinous crime. Under\nTiberius, slaves and criminals were accustomed to hold in their hands an\nimage of the emperor, and, being thus protected, to pour with impunity a\ntorrent of defiant insolence upon their masters or judges.(437) Under the\nsame emperor, a man having, when drunk, accidentally touched a nameless\ndomestic utensil with a ring on which the head of the emperor was carved,\nhe was immediately denounced by a spy.(438) A man in this reign was\naccused of high treason for having sold an image of the emperor with a\ngarden.(439) It was made a capital offence to beat a slave, or to undress,\nnear a statue of Augustus, or to enter a brothel with a piece of money on\nwhich his head was engraved,(440) and at a later period a woman, it is\nsaid, was actually executed for undressing before the statue of\nDomitian.(441)\n\nIt may easily be conceived that men who had been raised to this pinnacle\nof arrogance and power, men who exercised uncontrolled authority in the\nmidst of a society in a state of profound corruption, were often guilty of\nthe most atrocious extravagances. In the first period of the Empire more\nespecially, when traditions were not yet formed, and when experience had\nnot yet shown the dangers of the throne, the brains of some of its\noccupants reeled at their elevation, and a kind of moral insanity ensued.\nThe pages of Suetonius remain as an eternal witness of the abysses of\ndepravity, the hideous, intolerable cruelty, the hitherto unimagined\nextravagances of nameless lust that were then manifested on the Palatine,\nand while they cast a fearful light upon the moral chaos into which pagan\nsociety had sunk, they furnish ample evidence of the demoralising\ninfluences of the empire. The throne was, it is true, occupied by some of\nthe best as well as by some of the worst men who have ever lived; but the\nevil, though checked and mitigated, was never abolished. The corruption of\na Court, the formation of a profession of spies, the encouragement given\nto luxury, the distributions of corn, and the multiplication of games,\nwere evils which varied greatly in their degrees of intensity, but the\nvery existence of the empire prevented the creation of those habits of\npolitical life which formed the moral type of the great republics of\nantiquity. Liberty, which is often very unfavourable to theological\nsystems, is almost always in the end favourable to morals; for the most\neffectual method that has been devised for diverting men from vice is to\ngive free scope to a higher ambition. This scope was absolutely wanting in\nthe Roman Empire, and the moral condition, in the absence of lasting\npolitical habits, fluctuated greatly with the character of the Emperors.\n\nThe results of the institution of slavery were probably even more serious.\nIn addition to its manifest effect in encouraging a tyrannical and\nferocious spirit in the masters, it cast a stigma upon all labour, and at\nonce degraded and impoverished the free poor. In modern societies the\nformation of an influential and numerous middle class, trained in the\nsober and regular habits of industrial life, is the chief guarantee of\nnational morality, and where such a class exists, the disorders of the\nupper ranks, though undoubtedly injurious, are never fatal to society. The\ninfluence of great outbursts of fashionable depravity, such as that which\nfollowed the Restoration in England, is rarely more than superficial. The\naristocracy may revel in every excess of ostentatious vice, but the great\nmass of the people, at the loom, the counter, or the plough, continue\nunaffected by their example, and the habits of life into which they are\nforced by the condition of their trades preserve them from gross\ndepravity. It was the most frightful feature of the corruption of ancient\nRome that it extended through every class of the community. In the absence\nof all but the simplest machinery, manufactures, with the vast industrial\nlife they beget, were unknown. The poor citizen found almost all the\nspheres in which an honourable livelihood might be obtained wholly or at\nleast in a very great degree preoccupied by slaves, while he had learnt to\nregard trade with an invincible repugnance. Hence followed the immense\nincrease of corrupt and corrupting professions, as actors, pantomimes,\nhired gladiators, political spies, ministers to passion, astrologers,\nreligious charlatans, pseudo-philosophers, which gave the free classes a\nprecarious and occasional subsistence, and hence, too, the gigantic\ndimensions of the system of clientage. Every rich man was surrounded by a\ntrain of dependants, who lived in a great measure at his expense, and\nspent their lives in ministering to his passions and flattering his\nvanity. And, above all, the public distribution of corn, and occasionally\nof money, was carried on to such an extent, that, so far as the first\nnecessaries of life were concerned, the whole poor free population of Rome\nwas supported gratuitously by the Government. To effect this distribution\npromptly and lavishly was the main object of the Imperial policy, and its\nconsequences were worse than could have resulted from the most extravagant\npoor-laws or the most excessive charity. The mass of the people were\nsupported in absolute idleness by corn, which was given without any\nreference to desert, and was received, not as a favour, but as a right,\nwhile gratuitous public amusements still further diverted them from\nlabour.\n\nUnder these influences the population rapidly dwindled away. Productive\nenterprise was almost extinct in Italy, and an unexampled concurrence of\ncauses made a vicious celibacy the habitual condition. Already in the days\nof Augustus the evil was apparent, and the dangers which in later reigns\ndrove the patricians still more generally from public life, drove them\nmore and more into every extravagance of sensuality. Greece, since the\ndestruction of her liberty, and also the leading cities of Asia Minor and\nof Egypt, had become centres of the wildest corruption, and Greek and\nOriental captives were innumerable in Rome. Ionian slaves of a surpassing\nbeauty, Alexandrian slaves, famous for their subtle skill in stimulating\nthe jaded senses of the confirmed and sated libertine, became the\nornaments of every patrician house, the companions and the instructors of\nthe young. The disinclination to marriage was so general, that men who\nspent their lives in endeavouring by flatteries to secure the inheritance\nof wealthy bachelors became a numerous and a notorious class. The slave\npopulation was itself a hotbed of vice, and it contaminated all with which\nit came in contact; while the attractions of the games, and especially of\nthe public baths, which became the habitual resort of the idle, combined\nwith the charms of the Italian climate, and with the miserable domestic\narchitecture that was general, to draw the poor citizens from indoor life.\nIdleness, amusements, and a bare subsistence were alone desired, and the\ngeneral practice of abortion among the rich, and of infanticide and\nexposition in all classes, still further checked the population.\n\nThe destruction of all public spirit in a population so situated was\ncomplete and inevitable. In the days of the Republic a consul had once\nadvocated the admission of a brave Italian people to the right of Roman\ncitizenship, on the ground that \u201cthose who thought only of liberty\ndeserved to be Romans.\u201d(442) In the Empire all liberty was cheerfully\nbartered for games and corn, and the worst tyrant could by these means be\nsecure of popularity. In the Republic, when Marius threw open the houses\nof those he had proscribed, to be plundered, the people, by a noble\nabstinence, rebuked the act, for no Roman could be found to avail himself\nof the permission.(443) In the Empire, when the armies of Vitellius and\nVespasian were disputing the possession of the city, the degenerate Romans\ngathered with delight to the spectacle as to a gladiatorial show,\nplundered the deserted houses, encouraged either army by their reckless\nplaudits, dragged out the fugitives to be slain, and converted into a\nfestival the calamity of their country.(444) The degradation of the\nnational character was permanent. Neither the teaching of the Stoics, nor\nthe government of the Antonines, nor the triumph of Christianity could\nrestore it. Indifferent to liberty, the Roman now, as then, asks only for\nan idle subsistence and for public spectacles, and countless monasteries\nand ecclesiastical pageants occupy in modern Rome the same place as did\nthe distributions of corn and the games of the amphitheatre in the Rome of\nthe C\u00e6sars.\n\nIt must be remembered, too, that while public spirit had thus decayed in\nthe capital of the empire, there existed no independent or rival power to\nreanimate by its example the smouldering flame. The existence in modern\nEurope of many distinct nations on the same level of civilisation, but\nwith different forms of government and conditions of national life,\nsecures the permanence of some measure of patriotism and liberty. If these\nperish in one nation, they survive in another, and each people affects\nthose about it by its rivalry or example. But an empire which comprised\nall the civilised globe could know nothing of this political interaction.\nIn religious, social, intellectual, and moral life, foreign ideas were\nvery discernible, but the enslaved provinces could have no influence in\nrekindling political life in the centre, and those which rivalled Italy in\ntheir civilisation, even surpassed it in their corruption and their\nservility.\n\nIn reviewing, however, the conditions upon which the moral state of the\nempire depended, there are still two very important centres or seed-plots\nof virtue to which it is necessary to advert. I mean the pursuit of\nagriculture and the discipline of the army. A very early tradition, which\nwas attributed to Romulus, had declared that warfare and agriculture were\nthe only honourable occupations for a citizen,(445) and it would be\ndifficult to overrate the influence of the last in forming temperate and\nvirtuous habits among the people. It is the subject of the only extant\nwork of the elder Cato. Virgil had adorned it with the lustre of his\npoetry. A very large part of the Roman religion was intended to symbolise\nits stages or consecrate its operations. Varro expressed an eminently\nRoman sentiment in that beautiful sentence which Cowper has introduced\ninto English poetry, \u201cDivine Providence made the country, but human art\nthe town.\u201d(446) The reforms of Vespasian consisted chiefly of the\nelevation to high positions of the agriculturists of the provinces.\nAntoninus, who was probably the most perfect of all the Roman emperors,\nwas through his whole reign a zealous farmer.\n\nAs far as the distant provinces were concerned, it is probable that the\nImperial system was on the whole a good. The scandalous rapacity of the\nprovincial governors, which disgraced the closing years of the Republic,\nand which is immortalised by the indignant eloquence of Cicero, appears to\nhave ceased, or at least greatly diminished, under the supervision of the\nemperors. Ample municipal freedom, good roads, and for the most part wise\nand temperate rulers, secured for the distant sections of the empire a\nlarge measure of prosperity. But in Italy itself, agriculture, with the\nhabits of life that attended it, speedily and fatally decayed. The peasant\nproprietor soon glided hopelessly into debt. The immense advantages which\nslavery gave the rich gradually threw nearly all the Italian soil into\ntheir hands. The peasant who ceased to be proprietor found himself\nexcluded by slave labour from the position of a hired cultivator, while\nthe gratuitous distributions of corn drew him readily to the metropolis.\nThe gigantic scale of these distributions induced the rulers to obtain\ntheir corn in the form of a tribute from distant countries, chiefly from\nAfrica and Sicily, and it almost ceased to be cultivated in Italy. The\nland fell to waste, or was cultivated by slaves or converted into pasture,\nand over vast tracts the race of free peasants entirely disappeared.\n\nThis great revolution, which profoundly affected the moral condition of\nItaly, had long been impending. The debts of the poor peasants, and the\ntendency of the patricians to monopolise the conquered territory, had\noccasioned some of the fiercest contests of the Republic, and in the\nearliest days of the Empire the blight that seemed to have fallen on the\nItalian soil was continually and pathetically lamented. Livy, Varro,\nColumella, and Pliny have noticed it in the most emphatic terms,(447) and\nTacitus observed that as early as the reign of Claudius, Italy, which had\nonce supplied the distant provinces with corn, had become dependent for\nthe very necessaries of life upon the winds and the waves.(448) The evil\nwas indeed of an almost hopeless kind. Adverse winds, or any other\naccidental interruption of the convoys of corn, occasioned severe distress\nin the capital; but the prospect of the calamities that would ensue if any\nmisfortune detached the great corn-growing countries from the empire,\nmight well have appalled the politician. Yet the combined influence of\nslavery, and of the gratuitous distributions of corn, acting in the manner\nI have described, rendered every effort to revive Italian agriculture\nabortive, and slavery had taken such deep root that it would have been\nimpossible to abolish it, while no emperor dared to encounter the\ncalamities and rebellion that would follow a suspension or even a\nrestriction of the distributions.(449) Many serious efforts were made to\nremedy the evil.(450) Alexander Severus advanced money to the poor to buy\nportions of land, and accepted a gradual payment without interest from the\nproduce of the soil. Pertinax settled poor men as proprietors on deserted\nland, on the sole condition that they should cultivate it. Marcus Aurelius\nbegan, and Aurelian and Valentinian continued, the system of settling\ngreat numbers of barbarian captives upon the Italian soil, and compelling\nthem as slaves to till it. The introduction of this large foreign element\ninto the heart of Italy was eventually one of the causes of the downfall\nof the empire, and it is also about this time that we first dimly trace\nthe condition of serfdom or servitude to the soil into which slavery\nafterwards faded, and which was for some centuries the general condition\nof the European poor. But the economical and moral causes that were\ndestroying agriculture in Italy were too strong to be resisted, and the\nsimple habits of life which agricultural pursuits promote had little or no\nplace in the later empire.\n\nA somewhat less rapid but in the end not less complete decadence had taken\nplace in military life. The Roman army was at first recruited exclusively\nfrom the upper classes, and the service, which lasted only during actual\nwarfare, was gratuitous. Before the close of the Republic, however, these\nconditions had disappeared. Military pay is said to have been instituted\nat the time of the siege of Veii.(451) Some Spaniards who were enrolled\nduring the rivalry of Rome and Carthage were the first example of the\nemployment of foreign mercenaries by the former.(452) Marius abolished the\nproperty qualification of the recruits.(453) In long residences in Spain\nand in the Asiatic provinces discipline gradually relaxed, and the\nhistorian who traced the progress of Oriental luxury in Rome dwelt with a\njust emphasis upon the ominous fact that it had first been introduced into\nthe city by soldiers.(454) The civil wars contributed to the destruction\nof the old military traditions, but being conducted by able generals it is\nprobable that they had more effect upon the patriotism than upon the\ndiscipline of the army. Augustus reorganised the whole military system,\nestablishing a body of soldiers known as the Pr\u00e6torian guard, and\ndignified with some special privileges, permanently in Rome, while the\nother legions were chiefly mustered upon the frontiers. During his long\nreign, and during that of Tiberius, both sections were quiescent, but the\nmurder of Caligula by his soldiers opened a considerable period of\ninsubordination. Claudius, it was observed, first set the fatal example of\npurchasing his safety from his soldiers by bribes.(455) The armies of the\nprovinces soon discovered that it was possible to elect an emperor outside\nRome, and Galba, Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian were all the creatures of\nrevolt. The evil was, however, not yet past recovery. Vespasian and Trajan\nenforced discipline with great stringency and success. The emperors began\nmore frequently to visit the camps. The number of the soldiers was small,\nand for some time the turbulence subsided. The history of the worst period\nof the Empire, it has been truly observed, is full of instances of brave\nsoldiers trying, under circumstances of extreme difficulty, simply to do\ntheir duty. But the historian had soon occasion to notice again the\nprofound influence of the voluptuous Asiatic cities upon the legions.(456)\nRemoved for many years from Italy, they lost all national pride, their\nallegiance was transferred from the sovereign to the general, and when the\nImperial sceptre fell into the hands of a succession of incompetent\nrulers, they habitually urged their commanders to revolt, and at last\nreduced the empire to a condition of military anarchy. A remedy was found\nfor this evil, though not for the luxurious habits that had been acquired,\nin the division of the empire, which placed each army under the direct\nsupervision of an emperor, and it is probable that at a later period\nChristianity diminished the insubordination, though it may have also\ndiminished the military fire, of the soldiers.(457) But other and still\nmore powerful causes were in operation preparing the military downfall of\nRome. The habits of inactivity which the Imperial policy had produced, and\nwhich, through a desire for popularity, most emperors laboured to\nencourage, led to a profound disinclination for the hardships of military\nlife. Even the Pr\u00e6torian guard, which was long exclusively Italian, was\nselected after Septimus Severus from the legions on the frontiers,(458)\nwhile, Italy being relieved from the regular conscription, these were\nrecruited solely in the provinces, and innumerable barbarians were\nsubsidised. The political and military consequences of this change are\nsufficiently obvious. In an age when, artillery being unknown, the\nmilitary superiority of civilised nations over barbarians was far less\nthan at present, the Italians had become absolutely unaccustomed to real\nwar, and had acquired habits that were beyond all others incompatible with\nmilitary discipline, while many of the barbarians who menaced and at last\nsubverted the empire had been actually trained by Roman generals. The\nmoral consequence is equally plain\u2014military discipline, like agricultural\nlabour, ceased to have any part among the moral influences of Italy.\n\nTo those who have duly estimated the considerations I have enumerated, the\ndownfall and moral debasement of the empire can cause no surprise, though\nthey may justly wonder that its agony should have been so protracted, that\nit should have produced a multitude of good and great men, both pagan and\nChristian, and that these should have exercised so wide an influence as\nthey unquestionably did. Almost every institution or pursuit by which\nvirtuous habits would naturally have been formed had been tainted or\ndestroyed, while agencies of terrific power were impelling the people to\nvice. The rich, excluded from most honourable paths of ambition, and\nsurrounded by countless parasites who inflamed their every passion, found\nthemselves absolute masters of innumerable slaves who were their willing\nministers, and often their teachers, in vice. The poor, hating industry\nand destitute of all intellectual resources, lived in habitual idleness,\nand looked upon abject servility as the normal road to fortune. But the\npicture becomes truly appalling when we remember that the main amusement\nof both classes was the spectacle of bloodshed, of the death, and\nsometimes of the torture, of men.\n\nThe gladiatorial games form, indeed, the one feature of Roman society\nwhich to a modern mind is almost inconceivable in its atrocity. That not\nonly men, but women, in an advanced period of civilisation\u2014men and women\nwho not only professed but very frequently acted upon a high code of\nmorals\u2014should have made the carnage of men their habitual amusement, that\nall this should have continued for centuries, with scarcely a protest, is\none of the most startling facts in moral history. It is, however,\nperfectly normal, and in no degree inconsistent with the doctrine of\nnatural moral perceptions, while it opens out fields of ethical enquiry of\na very deep though painful interest.\n\nThese games, which long eclipsed, both in interest and in influence, every\nother form of public amusement at Rome,(459) were originally religious\nceremonies celebrated at the tombs of the great, and intended as human\nsacrifices to appease the Manes of the dead.(460) They were afterwards\ndefended as a means of sustaining the military spirit by the constant\nspectacle of courageous death,(461) and with this object it was customary\nto give a gladiatorial show to soldiers before their departure to a\nwar.(462) In addition to these functions they had a considerable political\nimportance, for at a time when all the regular organs of liberty were\nparalysed or abolished, the ruler was accustomed in the arena to meet tens\nof thousands of his subjects, who availed themselves of the opportunity to\npresent their petitions, to declare their grievances, and to censure\nfreely the sovereign or his ministers.(463) The games are said to have\nbeen of Etruscan origin; they were first introduced into Rome, B.C. 264,\nwhen the two sons of a man named Brutus compelled three pair of gladiators\nto fight at the funeral of their father,(464) and before the close of the\nRepublic they were common on great public occasions, and, what appears\neven more horrible, at the banquets of the nobles.(465) The rivalry of\nC\u00e6sar and Pompey greatly multiplied them, for each sought by this means to\ningratiate himself with the people. Pompey introduced a new form of combat\nbetween men and animals.(466) C\u00e6sar abolished the old custom of\nrestricting the mortuary games to the funerals of men, and his daughter\nwas the first Roman lady whose tomb was desecrated by human blood.(467)\nBesides this innovation, C\u00e6sar replaced the temporary edifices in which\nthe games had hitherto been held by a permanent wooden amphitheatre,\nshaded the spectators by an awning of precious silk, compelled the\ncondemned persons on one occasion to fight with silver lances,(468) and\ndrew so many gladiators into the city that the Senate was obliged to issue\nan enactment restricting their number.(469) In the earliest years of the\nEmpire, Statilius Taurus erected the first amphitheatre of stone.(470)\nAugustus ordered that not more than 120 men should fight on a single\noccasion, and that no pr\u00e6tor should give more than two spectacles in a\nsingle year,(471) and Tiberius again fixed the maximum of combatants,(472)\nbut notwithstanding these attempts to limit them the games soon acquired\nthe most gigantic proportions. They were celebrated habitually by great\nmen in honour of their dead relatives, by officials on coming into office,\nby conquerors to secure popularity, and on every occasion of public\nrejoicing, and by rich tradesmen who were desirous of acquiring a social\nposition.(473) They were also among the attractions of the public baths.\nSchools of gladiators\u2014often the private property of rich citizens\u2014existed\nin every leading city of Italy, and, besides slaves and criminals, they\nwere thronged with freemen, who voluntarily hired themselves for a term of\nyears. In the eyes of multitudes, the large sums that were paid to the\nvictor, the patronage of nobles and often of emperors, and still more the\ndelirium of popular enthusiasm that centred upon the successful gladiator,\noutweighed all the dangers of the profession. A complete recklessness of\nlife was soon engendered both in the spectators and the combatants. The\n\u201clanist\u00e6,\u201d or purveyors of gladiators, became an important profession.\nWandering bands of gladiators traversed Italy, hiring themselves for the\nprovincial amphitheatres. The influence of the games gradually pervaded\nthe whole texture of Roman life. They became the common-place of\nconversation.(474) The children imitated them in their play.(475) The\nphilosophers drew from them their metaphors and illustrations. The artists\npourtrayed them in every variety of ornament.(476) The vestal virgins had\na seat of honour in the arena.(477) The Colosseum, which is said to have\nbeen capable of containing more than 80,000 spectators, eclipsed every\nother monument of Imperial splendour, and is even now at once the most\nimposing and the most characteristic relic of pagan Rome.\n\nIn the provinces the same passion was displayed. From Gaul to Syria,\nwherever the Roman influence extended, the spectacles of blood were\nintroduced, and the gigantic remains of amphitheatres in many lands still\nattest by their ruined grandeur the scale on which they were pursued. In\nthe reign of Tiberius, more than 20,000 persons are said to have perished\nby the fall of the amphitheatre at the suburban town of Fiden\u00e6.(478) Under\nNero, the Syracusans obtained, as a special favour, an exemption from the\nlaw which limited the number of gladiators.(479) Of the vast train of\nprisoners brought by Titus from Judea, a large proportion were destined by\nthe conqueror for the provincial games.(480) In Syria, where they were\nintroduced by Antiochus Epiphanes, they at first produced rather terror\nthan pleasure; but the effeminate Syrians soon learned to contemplate them\nwith a passionate enjoyment,(481) and on a single occasion Agrippa caused\n1,400 men to fight in the amphitheatre at Berytus.(482) Greece alone was\nin some degree an exception. When an attempt was made to introduce the\nspectacle into Athens, the cynic philosopher Demonax appealed successfully\nto the better feelings of the people by exclaiming, \u201cYou must first\noverthrow the altar of Pity.\u201d(483) The games are said to have afterwards\npenetrated to Athens, and to have been suppressed by Apollonius of\nTyana;(484) but with the exception of Corinth, where a very large foreign\npopulation existed, Greece never appears to have shared the general\nenthusiasm.(485)\n\nOne of the first consequences of this taste was to render the people\nabsolutely unfit for those tranquil and refined amusements which usually\naccompany civilisation. To men who were accustomed to witness the fierce\nvicissitudes of deadly combat, any spectacle that did not elicit the\nstrongest excitement was insipid. The only amusements that at all rivalled\nthe spectacles of the amphitheatre and the circus were those which\nappealed strongly to the sensual passions, such as the games of Flora, the\npostures of the pantomimes, and the ballet.(486) Roman comedy, indeed,\nflourished for a short period, but only by throwing itself into the same\ncareer. The pander and the courtesan are the leading characters of\nPlautus, and the more modest Terence never attained an equal popularity.\nThe different forms of vice have a continual tendency to act and react\nupon one another, and the intense craving after excitement which the\namphitheatre must necessarily have produced, had probably no small\ninfluence in stimulating the orgies of sensuality which Tacitus and\nSuetonius describe.\n\nBut if comedy could to a certain extent flourish with the gladiatorial\ngames, it was not so with tragedy. It is, indeed, true that the tragic\nactor can exhibit displays of more intense agony and of a grander heroism\nthan were ever witnessed in the arena. His mission is not to paint nature\nas it exists in the light of day, but nature as it exists in the heart of\nman. His gestures, his tones, his looks, are such as would never have been\nexhibited by the person he represents, but they display to the audience\nthe full intensity of the emotions which that person would have felt, but\nwhich he would have been unable adequately to reveal. But to those who\nwere habituated to the intense realism of the amphitheatre, the idealised\nsuffering of the stage was unimpressive. All the genius of a Siddons or a\nRistori would fail to move an audience who had continually seen living men\nfall bleeding and mangled at their feet. One of the first functions of the\nstage is to raise to the highest point the susceptibility to disgust. When\nHorace said that Medea should not kill her children upon the stage, he\nenunciated not a mere arbitrary rule, but one which grows necessarily out\nof the development of the drama. It is an essential characteristic of a\nrefined and cultivated taste to be shocked and offended at the spectacle\nof bloodshed; and the theatre, which somewhat dangerously dissociates\nsentiment from action, and causes men to waste their compassion on ideal\nsufferings, is at least a barrier against the extreme forms of cruelty by\ndeveloping this susceptibility to the highest degree. The gladiatorial\ngames, on the other hand, destroyed all sense of disgust, and therefore\nall refinement of taste, and they rendered the permanent triumph of the\ndrama impossible.(487)\n\nIt is abundantly evident, both from history and from present experience,\nthat the instinctive shock, or natural feeling of disgust, caused by the\nsight of the sufferings of men is not generically different from that\nwhich is caused by the sight of the sufferings of animals. The latter, to\nthose who are not accustomed to it, is intensely painful. The former\ncontinually becomes by use a matter of absolute indifference. If the\nrepugnance which is felt in the one case appears greater than in the\nother, it is not on account of any innate sentiment which commands us to\nreverence our species, but simply because our imagination finds less\ndifficulty in realising human than animal suffering, and also because\neducation has strengthened our feelings in the one case much more than in\nthe other. There is, however, no fact more clearly established than that\nwhen men have regarded it as not a crime to kill some class of their\nfellow-men, they have soon learnt to do so with no more natural\ncompunction or hesitation than they would exhibit in killing a wild\nanimal. This is the normal condition of savage men. Colonists and Red\nIndians even now often shoot each other with precisely the same\nindifference as they shoot beasts of prey, and the whole history of\nwarfare\u2014especially when warfare was conducted on more savage principles\nthan at present\u2014is an illustration of the fact. Startling, therefore, as\nit may now appear, it is in no degree unnatural that Roman spectators\nshould have contemplated with perfect equanimity the slaughter of men. The\nSpaniard, who is brought in infancy to the bull-ring, soon learns to gaze\nwith indifference or with pleasure upon sights before which the\nunpractised eye of the stranger quails with horror, and the same process\nwould be equally efficacious had the spectacle been the sufferings of men.\n\nWe now look back with indignation upon this indifference; but yet,\nalthough it may be hard to realise, it is probably true that there is\nscarcely a human being who might not by custom be so indurated as to share\nit. Had the most benevolent person lived in a country in which the\ninnocence of these games was deemed axiomatic, had he been taken to them\nin his very childhood, and accustomed to associate them with his earliest\ndreams of romance, and had he then been left simply to the play of the\nemotions, the first paroxysm of horror would have soon subsided, the\nshrinking repugnance that followed would have grown weaker and weaker, the\nfeeling of interest would have been aroused, and the time would probably\ncome in which it would reign alone. But even this absolute indifference to\nthe sight of human suffering does not represent the full evil resulting\nfrom the gladiatorial games. That some men are so constituted as to be\ncapable of taking a real and lively pleasure in the simple contemplation\nof suffering as suffering, and without any reference to their own\ninterests, is a proposition which has been strenuously denied by those in\nwhose eyes vice is nothing more than a displacement, or exaggeration, of\nlawful self-regarding feelings, and others, who have admitted the reality\nof the phenomenon, have treated it as a very rare and exceptional\ndisease.(488) That it is so\u2014at least in its extreme forms\u2014in the present\ncondition of society, may reasonably be hoped, though I imagine that few\npersons who have watched the habits of boys would question that to take\npleasure in giving at least some degree of pain is sufficiently common,\nand though it is not quite certain that all the sports of adult men would\nbe entered into with exactly the same zest if their victims were not\nsentient beings. But in every society in which atrocious punishments have\nbeen common, this side of human nature has acquired an undoubted\nprominence. It is related of Claudius that his special delight at the\ngladiatorial shows was in watching the countenances of the dying, for he\nhad learnt to take an artistic pleasure in observing the variations of\ntheir agony.(489) When the gladiator lay prostrate it was customary for\nthe spectators to give the sign with their thumbs, indicating whether they\ndesired him to be spared or slain, and the giver of the show reaped most\npopularity when, in the latter case, he permitted no consideration of\neconomy to make him hesitate to sanction the popular award.(490)\n\nBesides this, the mere desire for novelty impelled the people to every\nexcess or refinement of barbarity.(491) The simple combat became at last\ninsipid, and every variety of atrocity was devised to stimulate the\nflagging interest. At one time a bear and a bull, chained together, rolled\nin fierce contest along the sand; at another, criminals dressed in the\nskins of wild beasts were thrown to bulls, which were maddened by red-hot\nirons, or by darts tipped with burning pitch. Four hundred bears were\nkilled on a single day under Caligula; three hundred on another day under\nClaudius. Under Nero, four hundred tigers fought with bulls and elephants;\nfour hundred bears and three hundred lions were slaughtered by his\nsoldiers. In a single day, at the dedication of the Colosseum by Titus,\nfive thousand animals perished. Under Trajan, the games continued for one\nhundred and twenty-three successive days.(492) Lions, tigers, elephants,\nrhinoceroses, hippopotami, giraffes, bulls, stags, even crocodiles and\nserpents, were employed to give novelty to the spectacle. Nor was any form\nof human suffering wanting. The first Gordian, when edile, gave twelve\nspectacles, in each of which from one hundred and fifty to five hundred\npair of gladiators appeared.(493) Eight hundred pair fought at the triumph\nof Aurelian.(494) Ten thousand men fought during the games of Trajan.(495)\nNero illumined his gardens during the night by Christians burning in their\npitchy shirts.(496) Under Domitian, an army of feeble dwarfs was compelled\nto fight,(497) and, more than once, female gladiators descended to perish\nin the arena.(498) A criminal personating a fictitious character was\nnailed to a cross, and there torn by a bear.(499) Another, representing\nSc\u00e6vola, was compelled to hold his hand in a real flame.(500) A third, as\nHercules, was burnt alive upon the pile.(501) So intense was the craving\nfor blood, that a prince was less unpopular if he neglected the\ndistribution of corn than if he neglected the games; and Nero himself, on\naccount of his munificence in this respect, was probably the sovereign who\nwas most beloved by the Roman multitude. Heliogabalus and Galerius are\nreported, when dining, to have regaled themselves with the sight of\ncriminals torn by wild beasts. It was said of the latter that \u201che never\nsupped without human blood.\u201d(502)\n\nIt is well for us to look steadily on such facts as these. They display\nmore vividly than any mere philosophical disquisition the abyss of\ndepravity into which it is possible for human nature to sink. They furnish\nus with striking proofs of the reality of the moral progress we have\nattained, and they enable us in some degree to estimate the regenerating\ninfluence that Christianity has exercised in the world. For the\ndestruction of the gladiatorial games is all its work. Philosophers,\nindeed, might deplore them, gentle natures might shrink from their\ncontagion, but to the multitude they possessed a fascination which nothing\nbut the new religion could overcome.\n\nNor was this fascination surprising, for no pageant has ever combined more\npowerful elements of attraction. The magnificent circus, the gorgeous\ndresses of the assembled Court, the contagion of a passionate enthusiasm\nthrilling almost visibly through the mighty throng, the breathless silence\nof expectation, the wild cheers bursting simultaneously from eighty\nthousand tongues, and echoing to the farthest outskirts of the city, the\nrapid alternations of the fray, the deeds of splendid courage that were\nmanifested, were all well fitted to entrance the imagination. The crimes\nand servitude of the gladiator were for a time forgotten in the blaze of\nglory that surrounded him. Representing to the highest degree that courage\nwhich the Romans deemed the first of virtues, the cynosure of countless\neyes, the chief object of conversation in the metropolis of the universe,\ndestined, if victorious, to be immortalised in the mosaic and the\nsculpture,(503) he not unfrequently rose to heroic grandeur. The gladiator\nSpartacus for three years defied the bravest armies of Rome. The greatest\nof Roman generals had chosen gladiators for his body-guard.(504) A band of\ngladiators, faithful even to death, followed the fortunes of the fallen\nAntony, when all besides had deserted him.(505) Beautiful eyes, trembling\nwith passion, looked down upon the fight, and the noblest ladies in Rome,\neven the empress herself, had been known to crave the victor\u2019s love.(506)\nWe read of gladiators lamenting that the games occurred so seldom,(507)\ncomplaining bitterly if they were not permitted to descend into the\narena,(508) scorning to fight except with the most powerful\nantagonists,(509) laughing aloud as their wounds were dressed,(510) and at\nlast, when prostrate in the dust, calmly turning their throats to the\nsword of the conqueror.(511) The enthusiasm that gathered round them was\nso intense that special laws were found necessary, and were sometimes\ninsufficient to prevent patricians from enlisting in their ranks,(512)\nwhile the tranquil courage with which they never failed to die supplied\nthe philosopher with his most striking examples.(513) The severe\ncontinence that was required before the combat, contrasting vividly with\nthe licentiousness of Roman life, had even invested them with something of\na moral dignity; and it is a singularly suggestive fact that of all pagan\ncharacters the gladiator was selected by the Fathers as the closest\napproximation to a Christian model.(514) St. Augustine tells us how one of\nhis friends, being drawn to the spectacle, endeavoured by closing his eyes\nto guard against a fascination he knew to be sinful. A sudden cry caused\nhim to break his resolution, and he never could withdraw his gaze\nagain.(515)\n\nAnd while the influences of the amphitheatre gained a complete ascendancy\nover the populace, the Roman was not without excuses that could lull his\nmoral feelings to repose. The games, as I have said, were originally human\nsacrifices\u2014religious rites sacred to the dead\u2014and it was argued that the\ndeath of the gladiator was both more honourable and more merciful than\nthat of the passive victim, who, in the Homeric age, was sacrificed at the\ntomb. The combatants were either professional gladiators, slaves,\ncriminals, or military captives. The lot of the first was voluntary. The\nsecond had for a long time been regarded as almost beneath or beyond a\nfreeman\u2019s care; but when the enlarging circle of sympathy had made the\nRomans regard their slaves as \u201ca kind of second human nature,\u201d(516) they\nperceived the atrocity of exposing them in the games, and an edict of the\nemperor forbade it.(517) The third had been condemned to death, and as the\nvictorious gladiator was at least sometimes pardoned,(518) a permission to\nfight was regarded as an act of mercy. The fate of the fourth could not\nstrike the early Roman with the horror it would now inspire, for the right\nof the conquerors to massacre their prisoners was almost universally\nadmitted.(519) But, beyond the point of desiring the games to be in some\ndegree restricted, extremely few of the moralists of the Roman Empire ever\nadvanced. That it was a horrible and demoralising thing to make the\nspectacle of the deaths, even of guilty men, a form of popular amusement,\nwas a position which no Roman school had attained, and which was only\nreached by a very few individuals. Cicero observes, \u201cthat the gladiatorial\nspectacles appear to some cruel and inhuman,\u201d and, he adds, \u201cI know not\nwhether as they are now conducted it is not so, but when guilty men are\ncompelled to fight, no better discipline against suffering and death can\nbe presented to the eye.\u201d(520) Seneca, it is true, adopts a far nobler\nlanguage. He denounced the games with a passionate eloquence. He refuted\nindignantly the argument derived from the guilt of the combatants, and\ndeclared that under every form and modification these amusements were\nbrutalising, savage, and detestable.(521) Plutarch went even farther, and\ncondemned the combats of wild beasts on the ground that we should have a\nbond of sympathy with all sentient beings, and that the sight of blood and\nof suffering is necessarily and essentially depraving.(522) To these\ninstances we may add Petronius, who condemned the shows in his poem on the\ncivil war; Junius Mauricus, who refused to permit the inhabitants of\nVienne to celebrate them, and replied to the remonstrances of the emperor,\n\u201cWould to Heaven it were possible to abolish such spectacles, even at\nRome!\u201d(523) and, above all, Marcus Aurelius, who, by compelling the\ngladiators to fight with blunted swords, rendered them for a time\ncomparatively harmless.(524) But these, with the Athenian remonstrances I\nhave already noticed, are almost the only instances now remaining of pagan\nprotests against the most conspicuous as well as the most atrocious\nfeature of the age. Juvenal, whose unsparing satire has traversed the\nwhole field of Roman manners, and who denounces fiercely all cruelty to\nslaves, has repeatedly noticed the gladiatorial shows, but on no single\noccasion does he intimate that they were inconsistent with humanity. Of\nall the great historians who recorded them, not one seems to have been\nconscious that he was recording a barbarity, not one appears to have seen\nin them any greater evils than an increasing tendency to pleasure and the\nexcessive multiplication of a dangerous class. The Roman sought to make\nmen brave and fearless, rather than gentle and humane, and in his eyes\nthat spectacle was to be applauded which steeled the heart against the\nfear of death, even at the sacrifice of the affections. Titus and Trajan,\nin whose reigns, probably, the greatest number of shows were compressed\ninto a short time, were both men of conspicuous clemency, and no Roman\nseems to have imagined that the fact of 3,000 men having been compelled to\nfight under the one, and 10,000 under the other, cast the faintest shadow\nupon their characters. Suetonius mentions, as an instance of the\namiability of Titus, that he was accustomed to jest with the people during\nthe combats of the gladiators,(525) and Pliny especially eulogised Trajan\nbecause he did not patronise spectacles that enervate the character, but\nrather those which impel men \u201cto noble wounds and to the contempt of\ndeath.\u201d(526) The same writer, who was himself in many ways conspicuous for\nhis gentleness and charity, having warmly commended a friend for acceding\nto a petition of the people of Verona, who desired a spectacle, adds this\nstartling sentence: \u201cAfter so general a request, to have refused would not\nhave been firmness\u2014it would have been cruelty.\u201d(527) Even in the closing\nyears of the fourth century, the pr\u00e6fect Symmachus, who was regarded as\none of the most estimable pagans of his age, collected some Saxon\nprisoners to fight in honour of his son. They strangled themselves in\nprison, and Symmachus lamented the misfortune that had befallen him from\ntheir \u201cimpious hands,\u201d but endeavoured to calm his feelings by recalling\nthe patience of Socrates and the precepts of philosophy.(528)\n\nWhile, however, I have no desire to disguise or palliate the extreme\natrocity of this aspect of Roman life, there are certain very natural\nexaggerations, against which it is necessary for us to guard. There are in\nhuman nature, and more especially in the exercise of the benevolent\naffections, inequalities, inconsistencies, and anomalies, of which\ntheorists do not always take account. We should be altogether in error if\nwe supposed that a man who took pleasure in a gladiatorial combat in\nancient Rome was necessarily as inhuman as a modern would be who took\npleasure in a similar spectacle. A man who falls but a little below the\nstandard of his own merciful age is often in reality far worse than a man\nwho had conformed to the standard of a much more barbarous age, even\nthough the latter will do some things with perfect equanimity from which\nthe other would recoil with horror. We have a much greater power than is\nsometimes supposed of localising both our benevolent and malevolent\nfeelings. If a man is very kind, or very harsh to some particular class,\nthis is usually, and on the whole justly, regarded as an index of his\ngeneral disposition, but the inference is not infallible, and it may\neasily be pushed too far. There are some who appear to expend all their\nkindly feelings on a single class, and to treat with perfect indifference\nall outside it. There are others who regard a certain class as quite\noutside the pale of their sympathies, while in other spheres their\naffections prove lively and constant. There are many who would accede\nwithout the faintest reluctance to a barbarous custom, but would be quite\nincapable of an equally barbarous act which custom had not consecrated.\nOur affections are so capricious in their nature that it is continually\nnecessary to correct by detailed experience the most plausible deductions.\nThus, for example, it is a very unquestionable and a very important truth\nthat cruelty to animals naturally indicates and promotes a habit of mind\nwhich leads to cruelty to men; and that, on the other hand, an\naffectionate and merciful disposition to animals commonly implies a gentle\nand amiable nature. But, if we adopted this principle as an infallible\ncriterion of humanity, we should soon find ourselves at fault. To the\nsomewhat too hackneyed anecdote of Domitian gratifying his savage\npropensities by killing flies,(529) we might oppose Spinoza, one of the\npurest, most gentle, most benevolent of mankind, of whom it is related\nthat almost the only amusement of his life was putting flies into spiders\u2019\nwebs, and watching their struggles and their deaths.(530) It has been\nobserved that a very large proportion of the men who during the French\nRevolution proved themselves most absolutely indifferent to human\nsuffering were deeply attached to animals. Fournier was devoted to a\nsquirrel, Couthon to a spaniel, Panis to two gold pheasants, Chaumette to\nan aviary, Marat kept doves.(531) Bacon has noticed that the Turks, who\nare a cruel people, are nevertheless conspicuous for their kindness to\nanimals, and he mentions the instance of a Christian boy who was nearly\nstoned to death for gagging a long-billed fowl.(532) In Egypt there are\nhospitals for superannuated cats, and the most loathsome insects are\nregarded with tenderness; but human life is treated as if it were of no\naccount, and human suffering scarcely elicits a care.(533) The same\ncontrast appears more or less in all Eastern nations. On the other hand,\ntravellers are unanimous in declaring that in Spain an intense passion for\nthe bull-fight is quite compatible with the most active benevolence and\nthe most amiable disposition. Again, to pass to another sphere, it is not\nuncommon to find conquerors, who will sacrifice with perfect callousness\ngreat masses of men to their ambition, but who, in their dealings with\nisolated individuals, are distinguished by an invariable clemency.\nAnomalies of this kind continually appear in the Roman population. The\nvery men who looked down with delight when the sand of the arena was\nreddened with human blood, made the theatre ring with applause when\nTerence, in his famous line, proclaimed the universal brotherhood of man.\nWhen the senate, being unable to discover the murderer of a patrician,\nresolved to put his four hundred slaves to death, the people rose in open\nrebellion against the sentence.(534) A knight named Erixo, who in the days\nof Augustus had so scourged his son that he died of the effects, was\nnearly torn to pieces by the indignant population.(535) The elder Cato\ndeprived a senator of his rank, because he had fixed an execution at such\nan hour that his mistress could enjoy the spectacle.(536) Even in the\namphitheatre there were certain traces of a milder spirit. Drusus, the\npeople complained, took too visible a pleasure at the sight of blood;(537)\nCaligula was too curious in watching death;(538) Caracalla, when a boy,\nwon enthusiastic plaudits by shedding tears at the execution of\ncriminals.(539) Among the most popular spectacles at Rome was\nrope-dancing, and then, as now, the cord being stretched at a great height\nabove the ground, the apparent, and indeed real, danger added an evil zest\nto the performances. In the reign of Marcus Aurelius an accident had\noccurred, and the emperor, with his usual sensitive humanity, ordered that\nno rope-dancer should perform without a net or a mattress being spread out\nbelow. It is a singularly curious fact that this precaution, which no\nChristian nation has adopted, continued in force during more than a\ncentury of the worst period of the Roman Empire, when the blood of\ncaptives was poured out like water in the Colosseum.(540) The standard of\nhumanity was very low, but the sentiment was still manifest, though its\ndisplays were capricious and inconsistent.\n\nThe sketch I have now drawn will, I think, be sufficient to display the\nbroad chasm that existed between the Roman moralists and the Roman people.\nOn the one hand we find a system of ethics, of which when we consider the\nrange and beauty of its precepts, the sublimity of the motives to which it\nappealed, and its perfect freedom from superstitious elements, it is not\ntoo much to say that though it may have been equalled, it has never been\nsurpassed. On the other hand, we find a society almost absolutely\ndestitute of moralising institutions, occupations, or beliefs, existing\nunder an economical and political system which inevitably led to general\ndepravity, and passionately addicted to the most brutalising amusements.\nThe moral code, while it expanded in theoretical catholicity, had\ncontracted in practical application. The early Romans had a very narrow\nand imperfect standard of duty, but their patriotism, their military\nsystem, and their enforced simplicity of life had made that standard\nessentially popular. The later Romans had attained a very high and\nspiritual conception of duty, but the philosopher with his group of\ndisciples, or the writer with his few readers, had scarcely any point of\ncontact with the people. The great practical problem of the ancient\nphilosophers was how they could act upon the masses. Simply to tell men\nwhat is virtue, and to extol its beauty, is insufficient. Something more\nmust be done if the characters of nations are to be moulded and inveterate\nvices eradicated.\n\nThis problem the Roman Stoics were incapable of meeting, but they did what\nlay in their power, and their efforts, though altogether inadequate to the\ndisease, were by no means contemptible. In the first place they raised up\nmany great and good rulers who exerted all the influence of their position\nin the cause of virtue. In most cases these reforms were abolished on the\naccession of the first bad emperor, but there were at least some that\nremained. It has been observed that the luxury of the table, which had\nacquired the most extravagant proportions during the period that elapsed\nbetween the battle of Actium and the reign of Galba, began from this\nperiod to decline, and the change is chiefly attributed to Vespasian, who\nhad in a measure reformed the Roman aristocracy by the introduction of\nmany provincials, and who made his court an example of the strictest\nfrugality.(541) The period from the accession of Nerva to the death of\nMarcus Aurelius, comprising no less than eighty-four years, exhibits a\nuniformity of good government which no other despotic monarchy has\nequalled. Each of the five emperors who then reigned deserves to be placed\namong the best rulers who have ever lived. Trajan and Hadrian, whose\npersonal characters were most defective, were men of great and conspicuous\ngenius. Antoninus and Marcus Aurelius, though less distinguished as\npoliticians, were among the most perfectly virtuous men who have ever sat\non a throne. During forty years of this period, perfect, unbroken peace\nreigned over the entire civilised globe. The barbarian encroachments had\nnot yet begun. The distinct nationalities that composed the Empire,\ngratified by perfect municipal and by perfect intellectual freedom, had\nlost all care for political liberty, and little more than three hundred\nthousand soldiers guarded a territory which is now protected by much more\nthan three millions.(542)\n\nIn creating this condition of affairs, Stoicism, as the chief moral agent\nof the Empire, had a considerable though not a preponderating influence.\nIn other ways its influence was more evident and exclusive. It was a\nfundamental maxim of the sect, \u201cthat the sage should take part in public\nlife,\u201d(543) and it was therefore impossible that Stoicism should flourish\nwithout producing a resuscitation of patriotism. The same moral impulse\nwhich transformed the Neoplatonist into a dreaming mystic and the Catholic\ninto a useless hermit, impelled the Stoic to the foremost post of danger\nin the service of his country. While landmark after landmark of Roman\nvirtue was submerged, while luxury and scepticism and foreign habits and\nforeign creeds were corroding the whole framework of the national life,\namid the last paroxysms of expiring liberty, amid the hideous carnival of\nvice that soon followed upon its fall, the Stoic remained unchanged, the\nrepresentative and the sustainer of the past. A party which had acquired\nthe noble title of the Party of Virtue, guided by such men as Cato or\nThrasea or Helvidius or Burrhus, upheld the banner of Roman virtue and\nRoman liberty in the darkest hours of despotism and of apostasy. Like all\nmen who carry an intense religious fervour into politics, they were often\nnarrow-minded and intolerant, blind to the inevitable changes of society,\nincapable of compromise, turbulent and inopportune in their demands,(544)\nbut they more than redeemed their errors by their noble constancy and\ncourage. The austere purity of their lives, and the heroic grandeur of\ntheir deaths, kept alive the tradition of Roman liberty even under a Nero\nor a Domitian. While such men existed it was felt that all was not lost.\nThere was still a rallying point of freedom, a seed of virtue that might\ngerminate anew, a living protest against the despotism and the corruption\nof the Empire.\n\nA third and still more important service which Stoicism rendered to\npopular morals was in the formation of Roman jurisprudence.(545) Of all\nthe many forms of intellectual exertion in which Greece and Rome struggled\nfor the mastery this is perhaps the only one in which the superiority of\nthe latter is indisputable. \u201cTo rule the nations\u201d was justly pronounced by\nthe Roman poet the supreme glory of his countrymen, and their\nadministrative genius is even now unrivalled in history. A deep reverence\nfor law was long one of their chief moral characteristics, and in order\nthat it might be inculcated from the earliest years it was a part of the\nRoman system of education to oblige the children to repeat by rote the\ncode of the decemvirs.(546) The laws of the Republic, however, being an\nexpression of the contracted, local, military, and sacerdotal spirit that\ndominated among the people, were necessarily unfit for the political and\nintellectual expansion of the Empire, and the process of renovation which\nwas begun under Augustus by the Stoic Labeo,(547) was continued with great\nzeal under Hadrian and Alexander Severus, and issued in the famous\ncompilations of Theodosius and Justinian. In this movement we have to\nobserve two parts. There were certain general rules of guidance laid down\nby the great Roman lawyers which constituted what may be called the ideal\nof the jurisconsults\u2014the ends to which their special enactments tended\u2014the\nprinciples of equity to guide the judge when the law was silent or\nambiguous. There were also definite enactments to meet specific cases. The\nfirst part was simply borrowed from the Stoics, whose doctrines and method\nthus passed from the narrow circle of a philosophical academy and became\nthe avowed moral beacons of the civilised globe. The fundamental\ndifference between Stoicism and early Roman thought was that the former\nmaintained the existence of a bond of unity among mankind which\ntranscended or annihilated all class or national limitations. The\nessential characteristic of the Stoical method was the assertion of the\nexistence of a certain law of nature to which it was the end of philosophy\nto conform. These tenets were laid down in the most unqualified language\nby the Roman lawyers. \u201cAs far as natural law is concerned,\u201d said Ulpian,\n\u201call men are equal.\u201d(548) \u201cNature,\u201d said Paul, \u201chas established among us a\ncertain relationship.\u201d(549) \u201cBy natural law,\u201d Ulpian declared, \u201call men\nare born free.\u201d(550) \u201cSlavery\u201d was defined by Florentinus as \u201ca custom of\nthe law of nations, by which one man, contrary to the law of nature, is\nsubjected to the dominion of another.\u201d(551) In accordance with these\nprinciples it became a maxim among the Roman lawyers that in every\ndoubtful case where the alternative of slavery or freedom was at issue,\nthe decision of the judge should be towards the latter.(552)\n\nThe Roman legislation was in a twofold manner the child of philosophy. It\nwas in the first place itself formed upon the philosophical model, for,\ninstead of being a mere empirical system adjusted to the existing\nrequirements of society, it laid down abstract principles of right to\nwhich it endeavoured to conform;(553) and, in the next place, these\nprinciples were borrowed directly from Stoicism. The prominence the sect\nhad acquired among Roman moralists, its active intervention in public\naffairs, and also the precision and brevity of its phraseology, had\nrecommended it to the lawyers,(554) and the union then effected between\nthe legal and philosophical spirit is felt to the present day. To the\nStoics and the Roman lawyers is mainly due the clear recognition of the\nexistence of a law of nature above and beyond all human enactments which\nhas been the basis of the best moral and of the most influential though\nmost chimerical political speculation of later ages, and the renewed study\nof Roman law was an important element in the revival that preceded the\nReformation.\n\nIt is not necessary for my present purpose to follow into very minute\ndetail the application of these principles to practical legislation. It is\nsufficient to say, that there were few departments into which the catholic\nand humane principles of Stoicism were not in some degree carried. In the\npolitical world, as we have already seen, the right of Roman citizenship,\nwith the protection and the legal privileges attached to it, from being\nthe monopoly of a small class, was gradually but very widely diffused. In\nthe domestic sphere, the power which the old laws had given to the father\nof the family, though not destroyed, was greatly abridged, and an\nimportant innovation, which is well worthy of a brief notice, was thus\nintroduced into the social system of the Empire.\n\nIt is probable that in the chronology of morals, domestic virtue takes the\nprecedence of all others; but in its earliest phase it consists of a\nsingle article\u2014the duty of absolute submission to the head of the\nhousehold. It is only at a later period, and when the affections have been\nin some degree evoked, that the reciprocity of duty is felt, and the whole\ntendency of civilisation is to diminish the disparity between the\ndifferent members of the family. The process by which the wife from a\nsimple slave becomes the companion and equal of her husband, I shall\nendeavour to trace in a future chapter. The relations of the father to his\nchildren are profoundly modified by the new position the affections assume\nin education, which in a rude nation rests chiefly upon authority, but in\na civilised community upon sympathy. In Rome the absolute authority of the\nhead of the family was the centre and archetype of that whole system of\ndiscipline and subordination which it was the object of the legislator to\nsustain. Filial reverence was enforced as the first of duties. It is the\none virtue which Virgil attributed in any remarkable degree to the founder\nof the race. The marks of external respect paid to old men were scarcely\nless than in Sparta.(555) It was the boast of the lawyers that in no other\nnation had the parent so great an authority over his children.(556) The\nchild was indeed the absolute slave of his father, who had a right at any\ntime to take away his life and dispose of his entire property. He could\nlook to no time during the life of his father in which he would be freed\nfrom the thraldom. The man of fifty, the consul, the general, or the\ntribune, was in this respect in the same position as the infant, and might\nat any moment be deprived of all the earnings of his labour, driven to the\nmost menial employments, or even put to death, by the paternal\ncommand.(557)\n\nThere can, I think, be little question that this law, at least in the\nlatter period of its existence, defeated its own object. There are few\nerrors of education to which more unhappy homes may be traced than\nthis\u2014that parents have sought to command the obedience, before they have\nsought to win the confidence, of their children. This was the path which\nthe Roman legislator indicated to the parent, and its natural consequence\nwas to chill the sympathies and arouse the resentment of the young. Of all\nthe forms of virtue filial affection is perhaps that which appears most\nrarely in Roman history. In the plays of Plautus it is treated much as\nconjugal fidelity was treated in England by the playwriters of the\nRestoration. An historian of the reign of Tiberius has remarked that the\ncivil wars were equally remarkable for the many examples they supplied of\nthe devotion of wives to their husbands, of the devotion of slaves to\ntheir masters, and of the treachery or indifference of sons to their\nfathers.(558)\n\nThe reforms that were effected during the pagan empire did not reconstruct\nthe family, but they at least greatly mitigated its despotism. The\nprofound change of feeling that had taken place on the subject is shown by\nthe contrast between the respectful, though somewhat shrinking,\nacquiescence, with which the ancient Romans regarded parents who had put\ntheir children to death,(559) and the indignation excited under Augustus\nby the act of Erixo. Hadrian, apparently by a stretch of despotic power,\nbanished a man who had assassinated his son.(560) Infanticide was\nforbidden, though not seriously repressed, but the right of putting to\ndeath an adult child had long been obsolete, when Alexander Severus\nformally withdrew it from the father. The property of children was also in\nsome slight degree protected. A few instances are recorded of wills that\nwere annulled because they had disinherited legitimate sons,(561) and\nHadrian, following a policy that had been feebly initiated by his two\npredecessors, gave the son an absolute possession of whatever he might\ngain in the military service. Diocletian rendered the sale of children by\nthe fathers, in all cases, illegal.(562)\n\nIn the field of slavery the legislative reforms were more important. This\ninstitution, indeed, is one that meets us at every turn of the moral\nhistory of Rome, and on two separate occasions in the present chapter I\nhave already had occasion to notice it. I have shown that the great\nprominence of the slave element in Roman life was one of the causes of the\nenlargement of sympathies that characterises the philosophy of the Empire,\nand also that slavery was in a very high degree, and in several distinct\nways, a cause of the corruption of the free classes. In considering the\ncondition of the slaves themselves, we may distinguish, I think, three\nperiods. In the earlier and simpler days of the Republic, the head of the\nfamily was absolute master of his slaves, but circumstances in a great\nmeasure mitigated the evil of the despotism. The slaves were very few in\nnumber. Each Roman proprietor had commonly one or two who assisted him in\ncultivating the soil, and superintended his property when he was absent in\nthe army. In the frugal habits of the time, the master was brought into\nthe most intimate connection with his slaves. He shared their labours and\ntheir food, and the control he exercised over them, in most cases probably\ndiffered little from that which he exercised over his sons. Under such\ncircumstances, great barbarity to slaves, though always possible, was not\nlikely to be common, and the protection of religion was added to the force\nof habit. Hercules, the god of labour, was the special patron of slaves.\nThere was a legend that Sparta had once been nearly destroyed by an\nearthquake sent by Neptune to avenge the treacherous murder of some\nHelots.(563) In Rome, it was said, Jupiter had once in a dream\ncommissioned a man to express to the senate the divine anger at the cruel\ntreatment of a slave during the public games.(564) By the pontifical law,\nslaves were exempted from field labours on the religious festivals.(565)\nThe Saturnalia and Matronalia, which were especially intended for their\nbenefit, were the most popular holidays in Rome, and on these occasions\nthe slaves were accustomed to sit at the same table with their\nmasters.(566)\n\nEven at this time, however, it is probable that great atrocities were\noccasionally committed. Everything was permitted by law, although it is\nprobable that the censor in cases of extreme abuse might interfere, and\nthe aristocratic feelings of the early Roman, though corrected in a\nmeasure by the associations of daily labour, sometimes broke out in a\nfierce scorn for all classes but his own. The elder Cato, who may be\nregarded as a type of the Romans of the earlier period, speaks of slaves\nsimply as instruments for obtaining wealth, and he encouraged masters,\nboth by his precept and his example, to sell them as useless when aged and\ninfirm.(567)\n\nIn the second period, the condition of slaves had greatly deteriorated.\nThe victories of Rome, especially in the East, had introduced into the\ncity innumerable slaves(568) and the wildest luxury, and the despotism of\nthe master remained unqualified by law, while the habits of life that had\noriginally mitigated it had disappeared. The religious sentiments of the\npeople were at the same time fatally impaired, and many new causes\nconspired to aggravate the evil. The passion for gladiatorial shows had\nbegun, and it continually produced a savage indifference to the infliction\nof pain. The servile wars of Sicily, and the still more formidable revolt\nof Spartacus, had shaken Italy to the centre, and the shock was felt in\nevery household. \u201cAs many enemies as slaves,\u201d had become a Roman proverb.\nThe fierce struggles of barbarian captives were repaid by fearful\npunishments, and many thousands of revolted slaves perished on the cross.\nAn atrocious law, intended to secure the safety of the citizens, provided\nthat if a master were murdered, all the slaves in his house, who were not\nin chains or absolutely helpless through illness, should be put to\ndeath.(569)\n\nNumerous acts of the most odious barbarity were committed. The well-known\nanecdotes of Flaminius ordering a slave to be killed to gratify, by the\nspectacle, the curiosity of a guest; of Vedius Pollio feeding his fish on\nthe flesh of slaves; and of Augustus sentencing a slave, who had killed\nand eaten a favourite quail, to crucifixion, are the extreme examples that\nare recorded; for we need not regard as an historical fact the famous\npicture in Juvenal of a Roman lady, in a moment of caprice, ordering her\nunoffending servant to be crucified. We have, however, many other very\nhorrible glimpses of slave life at the close of the Republic and in the\nearly days of the Empire. The marriage of slaves was entirely unrecognised\nby law, and in their case the words adultery, incest, or polygamy had no\nlegal meaning. Their testimony was in general only received in the\nlaw-courts when they were under torture. When executed for a crime, their\ndeaths were of a most hideous kind. The ergastula, or private prisons, of\nthe masters were frequently their only sleeping-places. Old and infirm\nslaves were constantly exposed to perish on an island of the Tiber. We\nread of slaves chained as porters to the doors, and cultivating the fields\nin chains. Ovid and Juvenal describe the fierce Roman ladies tearing their\nservants\u2019 faces, and thrusting the long pins of their brooches into their\nflesh. The master, at the close of the Republic, had full power to sell\nhis slave as a gladiator, or as a combatant with wild beasts.(570)\n\nAll this is very horrible, but it must not be forgotten that there was\nanother side to the picture. It is the custom of many ecclesiastical\nwriters to paint the pagan society of the Empire as a kind of pandemonium,\nand with this object they collect the facts I have cited, which are for\nthe most part narrated by Roman satirists or historians, as examples of\nthe most extreme and revolting cruelty; they represent them as fair\nspecimens of the ordinary treatment of the servile class, and they simply\nexclude from their consideration the many qualifying facts that might be\nalleged. Although the marriage of a slave was not legally recognised, it\nwas sanctioned by custom, and it does not appear to have been common to\nseparate his family.(571) Two customs to which I have already referred\ndistinguish ancient slavery broadly from that of modern times. The\npeculium, or private property of slaves, was freely recognised by masters,\nto whom, however, after the death of the slave, part or all of it usually\nreverted,(572) though some masters permitted their slaves to dispose of it\nby will.(573) The enfranchisement of slaves was also carried on to such an\nextent as seriously to affect the population of the city. It appears from\na passage in Cicero that an industrious and well-conducted captive might\ncommonly look forward to his freedom in six years.(574) Isolated acts of\ngreat cruelty undoubtedly occurred; but public opinion strongly\nreprehended them, and Seneca assures us that masters who ill-treated their\nslaves were pointed at and insulted in the streets.(575) The slave was not\nnecessarily the degraded being he has since appeared. The physician who\ntended the Roman in his sickness, the tutor to whom he confided the\neducation of his son, the artists whose works commanded the admiration of\nthe city, were usually slaves. Slaves sometimes mixed with their masters\nin the family, ate habitually with them at the same table,(576) and were\nregarded by them with the warmest affection. Tiro, the slave and\nafterwards the freedman of Cicero, compiled his master\u2019s letters, and has\npreserved some in which Cicero addressed him in terms of the most sincere\nand delicate friendship. I have already referred to the letter in which\nthe younger Pliny poured out his deep sorrow for the death of some of his\nslaves, and endeavoured to console himself with the thought that as he had\nemancipated them before their death, at least they had died free.(577)\nEpictetus passed at once from slavery to the friendship of an\nemperor.(578) The great multiplication of slaves, though it removed them\nfrom the sympathy of their masters, must at least have in most cases\nalleviated their burdens. The application of torture to slave witnesses,\nhorrible as it was, was a matter of rare occurrence, and was carefully\nrestricted by law.(579) Much vice was undoubtedly fostered, but yet the\nannals of the civil wars and of the Empire are crowded with the most\nsplendid instances of the fidelity of slaves. In many cases they refused\nthe boon of liberty and defied the most horrible tortures rather than\nbetray their masters, accompanied them in their flight when all others had\nabandoned them, displayed undaunted courage and untiring ingenuity in\nrescuing them from danger, and in some cases saved the lives of their\nowners by the deliberate sacrifice of their own.(580) This was, indeed,\nfor some time the pre-eminent virtue of Rome, and it proves conclusively\nthat the masters were not so tyrannical, and that the slaves were not so\ndegraded, as is sometimes alleged.\n\nThe duty of humanity to slaves had been at all times one of those which\nthe philosophers had most ardently inculcated. Plato and Aristotle, Zeno\nand Epicurus, were, on this point, substantially agreed.(581) The Roman\nStoics gave the duty a similar prominence in their teaching, and Seneca\nespecially has filled pages with exhortations to masters to remember that\nthe accident of position in no degree affects the real dignity of men,\nthat the slave may be free by virtue while the master may be a slave by\nvice, and that it is the duty of a good man to abstain not only from all\ncruelty, but even from all feeling of contempt towards his slaves.(582)\nBut these exhortations, in which some have imagined that they have\ndiscovered the influence of Christianity, were, in fact, simply an echo of\nthe teaching of ancient Greece, and especially of Zeno, the founder of\nStoicism, who had laid down, long before the dawn of Christianity, the\nbroad principles that \u2019all men are by nature equal, and that virtue alone\nestablishes a difference between them.\u2019(583) The softening influence of\nthe peace of the Antonines assisted this movement of humanity, and the\nslaves derived a certain incidental benefit from one of the worst features\nof the despotism of the C\u00e6sars. The emperors, who continually apprehended\nplots against their lives or power, encouraged numerous spies around the\nmore important of their subjects, and the facility with which slaves could\ndiscover the proceedings of their masters inclined the Government in their\nfavour.\n\nUnder all these influences many laws were promulgated which profoundly\naltered the legal position of the slaves, and opened what may be termed\nthe third period of Roman slavery. The Petronian law, which was issued by\nAugustus, or, more probably, by Nero, forbade the master to condemn his\nslave to combat with wild beasts without a sentence from a judge.(584)\nUnder Claudius, some citizens exposed their sick slaves on the island of\n\u00c6sculapius in the Tiber, to avoid the trouble of tending them, and the\nemperor decreed that if the slave so exposed recovered from his sickness\nhe should become free, and also, that masters who killed their slaves\ninstead of exposing them should be punished as murderers.(585) It is\npossible that succour was afforded to the abandoned slave in the temple of\n\u00c6sculapius,(586) and it would appear from these laws that the wanton\nslaughter of a slave was already illegal. About this time the statue of\nthe emperor had become an asylum for slaves.(587) Under Nero, a judge was\nappointed to hear their complaints, and was instructed to punish masters\nwho treated them with barbarity, made them the instruments of lust, or\nwithheld from them a sufficient quantity of the necessaries of life.(588)\nA considerable pause appears to have ensued; but Domitian made a law,\nwhich was afterwards reiterated, forbidding the Oriental custom of\nmutilating slaves for sensual purposes, and the reforms were renewed with\ngreat energy in the period of the Antonines. Hadrian and his two\nsuccessors formally deprived masters of the right of killing their slaves;\nforbade them to sell slaves to the lanist\u00e6, or speculators in gladiators;\ndestroyed the ergastula, or private prisons; ordered that, when a master\nwas murdered, those slaves only should be tortured who were within\nhearing;(589) appointed officers through all the provinces to hear the\ncomplaints of slaves; enjoined that no master should treat his slaves with\nexcessive severity; and commanded that, when such severity was proved, the\nmaster should be compelled to sell the slave he had ill-treated.(590) When\nwe add to these laws the broad maxims of equity asserting the essential\nequality of the human race, which the jurists had borrowed from the\nStoics, and which supplied the principles to guide the judges in their\ndecisions, it must be admitted that the slave code of Imperial Rome\ncompares not unfavourably with those of some Christian nations.\n\nWhile a considerable portion of the principles, and even much of the\nphraseology, of Stoicism passed into the system of public law, the Roman\nphilosophers had other more direct means of acting on the people. On\noccasions of family bereavement, when the mind is most susceptible of\nimpressions, they were habitually called in to console the survivors.\nDying men asked their comfort and support in the last hours of their life.\nThey became the directors of conscience to numbers who resorted to them\nfor a solution of perplexing cases of practical morals, or under the\ninfluence of despondency or remorse.(591) They had their special\nexhortations for every vice, and their remedies adapted to every variety\nof character. Many cases were cited of the conversion of the vicious or\nthe careless, who had been sought out and fascinated by the\nphilosopher,(592) and who, under his guidance, had passed through a long\ncourse of moral discipline, and had at last attained a high degree of\nvirtue. Education fell in a great degree into their hands. Many great\nfamilies kept a philosopher among them in what in modern language might be\ntermed the capacity of a domestic chaplain,(593) while a system of popular\npreaching was created and widely diffused.\n\nOf these preachers there were two classes who differed greatly in their\ncharacters and their methods. The first, who have been very happily termed\nthe \u201cmonks of Stoicism,\u201d(594) were the Cynics, who appear to have assumed\namong the later moralists of the Pagan empire a position somewhat\nresembling that of the mendicant orders in Catholicism. In a singularly\ncurious dissertation of Epictetus,(595) we have a picture of the ideal at\nwhich a Cynic should aim, and it is impossible in reading it not to be\nstruck by the resemblance it bears to the missionary friar. The Cynic\nshould be a man devoting his entire life to the instruction of mankind. He\nmust be unmarried, for he must have no family affections to divert or to\ndilute his energies. He must wear the meanest dress, sleep upon the bare\nground, feed upon the simplest food, abstain from all earthly pleasures,\nand yet exhibit to the world the example of uniform cheerfulness and\ncontent. No one, under pain of provoking the Divine anger, should embrace\nsuch a career, unless he believes himself to be called and assisted by\nJupiter. It is his mission to go among men as the ambassador of God,\nrebuking, in season and out of season, their frivolity, their cowardice,\nand their vice. He must stop the rich man in the market-place. He must\npreach to the populace in the highway. He must know no respect and no\nfear. He must look upon all men as his sons, and upon all women as his\ndaughters. In the midst of a jeering crowd, he must exhibit such a placid\ncalm that men may imagine him to be of stone. Ill-treatment, and exile,\nand death must have no terror in his eyes, for the discipline of his life\nshould emancipate him from every earthly tie; and, when he is beaten, \u201che\nshould love those who beat him, for he is at once the father and the\nbrother of all men.\u201d\n\nA curious contrast to the Cynic was the philosophic rhetorician, who\ngathered around his chair all that was most brilliant in Roman or Athenian\nsociety. The passion for oratory which the free institutions of Greece had\nformed, had survived the causes that produced it, and given rise to a very\nsingular but a very influential profession; which, though excluded from\nthe Roman Republic, acquired a great development after the destruction of\npolitical liberty. The rhetoricians were a kind of itinerant lecturers,\nwho went about from city to city, delivering harangues that were often\nreceived with the keenest interest. For the most part, neither their\ncharacters nor their talents appear to have deserved much respect.\nNumerous anecdotes are recorded of their vanity and rapacity, and their\nsuccess was a striking proof of the decadence of public taste.(596) They\nhad cultivated the histrionic part of oratory with the most minute\nattention. The arrangement of their hair, the folds of their dresses, all\ntheir postures and gestures were studied with artistic care. They had\ndetermined the different kinds of action that are appropriate for each\nbranch of a discourse and for each form of eloquence. Sometimes they\npersonated characters in Homer or in ancient Greek history, and delivered\nspeeches which those characters might have delivered in certain\nconjunctures of their lives. Sometimes they awakened the admiration of\ntheir audience by making a fly, a cockroach, dust, smoke, a mouse, or a\nparrot the subject of their eloquent eulogy.(597) Others, again, exercised\ntheir ingenuity in defending some glaring paradox or sophism, or in\ndebating some intricate case of law or morals, or they delivered literary\nlectures remarkable for a minute but captious and fastidious criticism.\nSome of the rhetoricians recited only harangues prepared with the most\nelaborate care, others were ready debaters, and they travelled from city\nto city, challenging opponents to discuss some subtle and usually\nfrivolous question. The poet Juvenal and the satirist Lucian had both for\na time followed this profession. Many of the most eminent acquired immense\nwealth, travelled with a splendid retinue, and excited transports of\nenthusiasm in the cities they visited. They were often charged by cities\nto appear before the emperor to plead for a remission of taxes, or of the\npunishment due for some offence. They became in a great measure the\neducators of the people, and contributed very largely to form and direct\ntheir taste.\n\nIt had been from the first the custom of some philosophers to adopt this\nprofession, and to expound in the form of rhetorical lectures the\nprinciples of their school. In the Flavian period and in the age of the\nAntonines, this alliance of philosophy, and especially of Stoical\nphilosophy, with rhetoric became more marked, and the foundation of\nliberally endowed chairs of rhetoric and philosophy by Vespasian, Hadrian,\nand Marcus Aurelius contributed to sustain it. Discourses of the Platonist\nMaximus of Tyre, and of the Stoic Dion Chrysostom, have come down to us,\nand they are both of a high order of intrinsic merit. The first turn\nchiefly on such subjects as the comparative excellence of active and\ncontemplative life, the pure and noble conceptions of the Divine nature\nwhich underlie the fables or allegories of Homer, the d\u00e6mon of Socrates,\nthe Platonic notions of the Divinity, the duty of prayer, the end of\nphilosophy, and the ethics of love.(598) Dion Chrysostom, in his orations,\nexpounded the noblest and purest theism, examined the place which images\nshould occupy in worship, advocated humanity to slaves, and was, perhaps,\nthe earliest writer in the Roman Empire who denounced hereditary slavery\nas illegitimate.(599) His life was very eventful and very noble. He had\nbecome famous as a sophist and rhetorician, skilled in the laborious\nfrivolities of the profession. Calamity, however, and the writings of\nPlato induced him to abandon them and devote himself exclusively to the\nimprovement of mankind. Having defended with a generous rashness a man who\nhad been proscribed by the tyranny of Domitian, he was compelled to fly\nfrom Rome in the garb of a beggar; and, carrying with him only a work of\nPlato and a speech of Demosthenes, he travelled to the most distant\nfrontiers of the empire. He gained his livelihood by the work of his\nhands, for he refused to receive money for his discourses; but he taught\nand captivated the Greek colonists who were scattered among the\nbarbarians, and even the barbarians themselves. Upon the assassination of\nDomitian, when the legions hesitated to give their allegiance to Nerva,\nthe eloquence of Dion Chrysostom overcame their irresolution. By the same\neloquence he more than once appeased seditions in Alexandria and the Greek\ncities of Asia Minor. He preached before Trajan on the duties of royalty,\ntaking a line of Homer for his text. He electrified the vast and polished\naudience assembled at Athens for the Olympic games as he had before done\nthe rude barbarians of Scythia. Though his taste was by no means untainted\nby the frivolities of the rhetorician, he was skilled in all the arts that\nawaken curiosity and attention, and his eloquence commanded the most\nvarious audiences in the most distant lands. His special mission, however,\nwas to popularise Stoicism by diffusing its principles through the masses\nof mankind.(600)\n\nThe names, and in some cases a few fragments, of the writings of many\nother rhetorical philosophers, such as Herod Atticus, Favorinus, Fronto,\nTaurus, Fabianus, and Julianus, have come down to us, and each was the\ncentre of a group of passionate admirers, and contributed to form a\nliterary society in the great cities of the empire. We have a vivid\npicture of this movement in the \u201cAttic Nights\u201d of Aulus Gellius\u2014a work\nwhich is, I think, one of the most curious and instructive in Latin\nliterature, and which bears to the literary society of the period of the\nAntonines much the same relation as the writings of Helv\u00e9tius bear to the\nParisian society on the eve of the Revolution. Helv\u00e9tius, it is said,\ncollected the materials for his great work on \u201cMind\u201d chiefly from the\nconversation of the drawing-rooms of Paris at a time when that\nconversation had attained a degree of perfection which even Frenchmen had\nnever before equalled. He wrote in the age of the \u201cEncyclop\u00e6dia,\u201d when the\nsocial and political convulsions of the Revolution were as yet unfelt;\nwhen the first dazzling gleams of intellectual freedom had flashed upon a\nsociety long clouded by superstition and aristocratic pride; when the\ngenius of Voltaire and the peerless conversational powers of Diderot,\nirradiating the bold philosophies of Bacon and Locke, had kindled an\nintellectual enthusiasm through all the ranks of fashion;(601) and when\nthe contempt for the wisdom and the methods of the past was only equalled\nby the prevailing confidence in the future. Brilliant, graceful,\nversatile, and superficial, with easy eloquence and lax morals, with a\nprofound disbelief in moral excellence, and an intense appreciation of\nintellectual beauty, disdaining all pedantry, superstition, and mystery,\nand with an almost fanatical persuasion of the omnipotence of analysis, he\nembodied the principles of his contemporaries in a philosophy which\nrepresents all virtue and heroism as but disguised self-interest; he\nillustrated every argument, not by the pedantic learning of the schools,\nbut by the sparkling anecdotes and acute literary criticisms of the\ndrawing-room, and he thus produced a work which, besides its intrinsic\nmerits, was the most perfect mirror of the society from which it\nsprang.(602) Very different, both in form, subject, and tendency, but no\nless truly representative, was the work of Aulus Gellius. It is the\njournal, or common-place book, or miscellany of a scholar moving in the\ncentre of the literary society of both Rome and Athens during the latter\nperiod of the Antonines, profoundly imbued with its spirit, and devoting\nhis leisure to painting its leading figures, and compiling the substance\nof their teaching. Few books exhibit a more curious picture of the\ncombination of intense child-like literary and moral enthusiasm with the\nmost hopeless intellectual degeneracy. Each prominent philosopher was\nsurrounded by a train of enthusiastic disciples, who made the lecture-room\nresound with their applause,(603) and accepted him as their monitor in all\nthe affairs of life. He rebuked publicly every instance of vice or of\naffectation he had observed in their conduct, received them at his own\ntable, became their friend and confidant in their troubles, and sometimes\nassisted them by his advice in their professional duties.(604) Taurus,\nFavorinus, Fronto, and Atticus were the most prominent figures, and each\nseems to have formed, in the centre of a corrupt society, a little company\nof young men devoted with the simplest and most ardent earnestness to the\ncultivation of intellectual and moral excellence. Yet this society was\nsingularly puerile. The age of genius had closed, and the age of pedantry\nhad succeeded it. Minute, curious, and fastidious verbal criticism of the\ngreat writers of the past was the chief occupation of the scholar, and the\nwhole tone of his mind had become retrospective and even archaic. Ennius\nwas esteemed a greater poet than Virgil, and Cato a greater prose writer\nthan Cicero. It was the affectation of some to tesselate their\nconversation with antiquated and obsolete words.(605) The study of\netymologies had risen into great favour, and curious questions of grammar\nand pronunciation were ardently debated. Logic, as in most ages of\nintellectual poverty, was greatly studied and prized. Bold speculations\nand original thought had almost ceased, but it was the delight of the\nphilosophers to throw the arguments of great writers into the form of\nsyllogisms, and to debate them according to the rules of the schools. The\nvery amusements of the scholars took the form of a whimsical and puerile\npedantry. Gellius recalls, with a thrill of emotion, those enchanting\nevenings when, their more serious studies being terminated, the disciples\nof Taurus assembled at the table of their master to pass the happy hours\nin discussing such questions as when a man can be said to die, whether in\nthe last moment of life or in the first moment of death; or when he can be\nsaid to get up, whether when he is still on his bed or when he has just\nleft it.(606) Sometimes they proposed to one another literary questions,\nas what old writer had employed some common word in a sense that had since\nbecome obsolete; or they discussed such syllogisms as these:\u2014\u201cYou have\nwhat you have not lost; you have not lost horns, therefore you have\nhorns.\u201d \u201cYou are not what I am. I am a man; therefore you are not a\nman.\u201d(607) As moralists, they exhibited a very genuine love of moral\nexcellence, but the same pedantic and retrospective character. They were\ncontinually dilating on the regulations of the censors and the customs of\nthe earliest period of the Republic. They acquired the habit of never\nenforcing the simplest lesson without illustrating it by a profusion of\nancient examples and by detached sentences from some philosopher, which\nthey employed much as texts of Scripture are often employed in the\nwritings of the Puritans.(608) Above all, they delighted in cases of\nconscience, which they discussed with the subtilty of the schoolmen.\n\nLactantius has remarked that the Stoics were especially noted for the\npopular or democratic character of their teaching.(609) To their success\nin this respect their alliance with the rhetoricians probably largely\ncontributed; but in other ways it hastened the downfall of the school. The\nuseless speculations, refinements, and paradoxes which the subtle genius\nof Chrysippus had connected with the simple morals of Stoicism, had been\nfor the most part thrown into the background by the early Roman Stoics;\nbut in the teaching of the rhetoricians they became supreme. The\nendowments given by the Antonines to philosophers attracted a multitude of\nimpostors, who wore long beards and the dress of the philosopher, but\nwhose lives were notoriously immoral. The Cynics especially, professing to\nreject the ordinary conventionalities of society, and being under none of\nthat discipline or superintendence which in the worst period has secured\nat least external morality among the mendicant monks, continually threw\noff every vestige of virtue and of decency. Instead of moulding great\ncharacters and inspiring heroic actions, Stoicism became a school of the\nidlest casuistry, or the cloak for manifest imposture.(610) The very\ngeneration which saw Marcus Aurelius on the throne, saw also the\nextinction of the influence of his sect.\n\nThe internal causes of the decadence of Stoicism, though very powerful,\nare insufficient to explain this complete eclipse. The chief cause must be\nfound in the fact that the minds of men had taken a new turn, and their\nenthusiasm was flowing rapidly in the direction of Oriental religions,\nand, under the guidance of Plotinus, Porphyry, Iamblichus, and Proclus, of\na mythical philosophy which was partly Egyptian and partly Platonic. It\nremains for me, in concluding this review of the Pagan empire, to indicate\nand explain this last transformation of Pagan morals.\n\nIt was in the first place a very natural reaction against the extreme\naridity of the Stoical casuistry, and also against the scepticism which\nSextus Empiricus had revived, and in this respect it represents a law of\nthe human mind which has been more than once illustrated in later times.\nThus, the captious, unsatisfying, intellectual subtleties of the schoolmen\nwere met by the purely emotional and mystical school of St. Bonaventura,\nand afterwards of Tauler, and thus the adoration of the human intellect,\nthat was general in the philosophy of the last century, prepared the way\nfor the complete denial of its competency by De Maistre and by Lamennais.\n\nIn the next place, mysticism was a normal continuation of the\nspiritualising movement which had long been advancing. We have already\nseen that the strong tendency of ethics, from Cato to Marcus Aurelius, was\nto enlarge the prominence of the emotions in the type of virtue. The\nformation of a gentle, a spiritual, and, in a word, a religious character\nhad become a prominent part of moral culture, and it was regarded not\nsimply as a means, but as an end. Still, both Marcus Aurelius and Cato\nwere Stoics. They both represented the same general cast or conception of\nvirtue, although in Marcus Aurelius the type had been profoundly modified.\nBut the time was soon to come when the balance between the practical and\nthe emotional parts of virtue, which had been steadily changing, should be\ndecisively turned in favour of the latter, and the type of Stoicism was\nthen necessarily discarded.\n\nA concurrence of political and commercial causes had arisen, very\nfavourable to the propagation of Oriental beliefs. Commerce had produced a\nconstant intercourse between Egypt and Italy. Great numbers of Oriental\nslaves, passionately devoted to their national religions, existed in Rome;\nand Alexandria, which combined a great intellectual development with a\ngeographical and commercial position exceedingly favourable to a fusion of\nmany doctrines, soon created a school of thought which acted powerfully\nupon the world. Four great systems of eclecticism arose; Aristobulus and\nPhilo tinctured Judaism with Greek and Egyptian philosophy. The Gnostics\nand the Alexandrian fathers united, though in very different proportions,\nChristian doctrines with the same elements; while Neoplatonism, at least\nin its later forms, represented a fusion of the Greek and Egyptian mind. A\ngreat analogy was discovered between the ideal philosophy of Plato and the\nmystical philosophy that was indigenous to the East, and the two systems\nreadily blended.(611)\n\nBut the most powerful cause of the movement was the intense desire for\npositive religious belief, which had long been growing in the Empire. The\nperiod when Roman incredulity reached its extreme point had been the\ncentury that preceded and the half century that followed the birth of\nChrist. The sudden dissolution of the old habits of the Republic effected\nthrough political causes, the first comparison of the multitudinous\nreligions of the Empire and also the writings of Euhemerus had produced an\nabsolute religious disbelief which Epicureanism represented and\nencouraged. This belief, however, as I have already noticed, co-existed\nwith numerous magical and astrological superstitions, and the ignorance of\nphysical science was so great, and the conception of general laws so\nfaint, that the materials for a great revival of superstition still\nremained. From the middle of the first century, a more believing and\nreverent spirit began to arise. The worship of Isis and Serapis forced its\nway into Rome in spite of the opposition of the rulers. Apollonius of\nTyana, at the close of the Flavian period, had endeavoured to unite moral\nteaching with religious practices; the oracles, which had long ceased,\nwere partially restored under the Antonines; the calamities and visible\ndecline of the Empire withdrew the minds of men from that proud patriotic\nworship of Roman greatness, which was long a substitute for religious\nfeeling; and the frightful pestilence that swept over the land in the\nreigns of Marcus Aurelius and his successor was followed by a blind,\nfeverish, and spasmodic superstition. Besides this, men have never\nacquiesced for any considerable time in a neglect of the great problems of\nthe origin, nature, and destinies of the soul, or dispensed with some form\nof religious worship and aspiration. That religious instincts are as truly\na part of our nature as are our appetites and our nerves, is a fact which\nall history establishes, and which forms one of the strongest proofs of\nthe reality of that unseen world to which the soul of man continually\ntends. Early Roman Stoicism, which in this respect somewhat resembled the\nmodern positive school, diverted for the most part its votaries from the\ngreat problems of religion, and attempted to evolve its entire system of\nethics out of existing human nature, without appealing to any external\nsupernatural sanction. But the Platonic school, and the Egyptian school\nwhich connected itself with the name of Pythagoras, were both essentially\nreligious. The first aspired to the Deity as the source and model of\nvirtue, admitted d\u00e6mons or subordinate spiritual agents acting upon\nmankind, and explained and purified, in no hostile spirit, the popular\nreligions. The latter made the state of ecstasy or quietism its ideal\ncondition, and sought to purify the mind by theurgy or special religious\nrites. Both philosophies conspired to effect a great religious\nreformation, in which the Greek spirit usually represented the rational,\nand the Egyptian the mystical, element.\n\nOf the first, Plutarch was the head. He taught the supreme authority of\nreason. He argued elaborately that superstition is worse than atheism, for\nit calumniates the character of the Deity, and its evils are not negative,\nbut positive. At the same time, he is far from regarding the Mythology as\na tissue of fables. Some things he denies. Others he explains away. Others\nhe frankly accepts. He teaches for the most part a pure monotheism, which\nhe reconciles with the common belief, partly by describing the different\ndivinities as simply popular personifications of Divine attributes, and\npartly by the usual explanation of d\u00e6mons. He discarded most of the fables\nof the poets, applying to them with fearless severity the tests of human\nmorality, and rejecting indignantly those which attribute to the Deity\ncruel or immoral actions. He denounces all religious terrorism, and draws\na broad line of distinction between both the superstitious and idolatrous\nconception of the Deity on the one hand, and the philosophical conception\non the other. \u201cThe superstitious man believes in the gods, but he has a\nfalse idea of their nature. Those good beings whose providence watches\nover us with so much care, those beings so ready to forget our faults, he\nrepresents as ferocious and cruel tyrants, taking pleasure in tormenting\nus. He believes the founders of brass, the sculptors of stone, the\nmoulders of wax; he attributes to the gods a human form; he adorns and\nworships the image he has made, and he listens not to the philosophers,\nand men of knowledge who associate the Divine image, not with bodily\nbeauty, but with grandeur and majesty, with gentleness and goodness.\u201d(612)\nOn the other hand, Plutarch believed that there was undoubtedly a certain\nsupernatural basis in the Pagan creed; he believed in oracles; he\ndefended, in a very ingenious essay, hereditary punishment, and the\ndoctrine of a special Providence; he admitted a future retribution, though\nhe repudiated the notion of physical torment; and he brought into clear\nrelief the moral teaching conveyed in some of the fables of the poets.\n\nThe position which Plutarch occupied under Trajan, Maximus of Tyre\noccupied in the next generation. Like Plutarch, but with a greater\nconsistency, he maintained a pure monotheistic doctrine, declaring that\n\u201cZeus is that most ancient and guiding mind that begot all things\u2014Athene\nis prudence\u2014Apollo is the sun.\u201d(613) Like Plutarch, he developed the\nPlatonic doctrine of d\u00e6mons as an explanation of much of the mythology,\nand he applied an allegorical interpretation with great freedom to the\nfables of Homer, which formed the text-book or the Bible of Paganism. By\nthese means he endeavoured to clarify the popular creed from all elements\ninconsistent with a pure monotheism, and from all legends of doubtful\nmorality, while he sublimated the popular worship into a harmless\nsymbolism. \u201cThe gods,\u201d he assures us, \u201cthemselves need no images,\u201d but the\ninfirmity of human nature requires visible signs \u201con which to rest.\u201d\n\u201cThose who possess such faculties, that with a steady mind they can rise\nto heaven, and to God, are in no need of statues. But such men are very\nrare.\u201d He then proceeds to recount the different ways by which men have\nendeavoured to represent or symbolise the Divine nature, as the statues of\nGreece, the animals of Egypt, or the sacred flame of Persia. \u201cThe God,\u201d he\ncontinues, \u201cthe Father and the Founder of all that exists, older than the\nsun, older than the sky, greater than all time, than every age, and than\nall the works of nature, whom no words can express, whom no eye can\nsee.... What can we say concerning his images? Only let men understand\nthat there is but one Divine nature; but whether the art of Phidias\nchiefly preserves his memory among the Greeks, or the worship of animals\namong the Egyptians, a river among these, or a flame among those, I do not\nblame the variety of the representations\u2014only let men understand that\nthere is but one; only let them love one, let them preserve one in their\nmemory.\u201d(614)\n\nA third writer who, nearly at the same time as Maximus of Tyre, made some\nefforts in the same direction, was Apuleius, who, however, both as a moral\nteacher, and in his freedom from superstition, was far inferior to the\npreceding. The religion he most admired was the Egyptian; but in his\nphilosophy he was a Platonist, and in that capacity, besides an exposition\nof the Platonic code of morals, he has left us a singularly clear and\nstriking disquisition on the doctrine of d\u00e6mons. \u201cThese d\u00e6mons,\u201d he says,\n\u201care the bearers of blessings and prayers between the inhabitants of earth\nand heaven, carrying prayers from the one and assistance from the\nother.... By them also, as Plato maintained in his \u2018Banquet,\u2019 all\nrevelations, all the various miracles of magicians, all kinds of omens,\nare ruled. They have their several tasks to perform, their different\ndepartments to govern; some directing dreams, others the disposition of\nthe entrails, others the flight of birds.... The supreme deities do not\ndescend to these things\u2014they leave them to the intermediate\ndivinities.\u201d(615) But these intermediate spirits are not simply the agents\nof supernatural phenomena\u2014they are also the guardians of our virtue and\nthe recorders of our actions. \u201cEach man has in life witnesses and guards\nof his deeds, visible to no one, but always present, witnessing not only\nevery act but every thought. When life has ended and we must return whence\nwe came, the same genius who had charge over us, takes us away and hurries\nus in his custody to judgment, and then assists us in pleading our cause.\nIf any thing is falsely asserted he corrects it\u2014if true, he substantiates\nit, and according to his witness our sentence is determined.\u201d(616)\n\nThere are many aspects in which these attempts at religious reform are\nboth interesting and important. They are interesting, because the doctrine\nof d\u00e6mons, mingled, it is true, with the theory of Euhemerus about the\norigin of the deities, was universally accepted by the Fathers as the true\nexplanation of the Pagan theology, because the notion and, after the third\ncentury, even the artistic type of the guardian genius reappeared in that\nof the guardian angel, and because the transition from polytheism to the\nconception of a single deity acting by the delegation or ministration of\nan army of subsidiary spirits, was manifestly fitted to prepare the way\nfor the reception of Christianity. They are interesting, too, as showing\nthe anxiety of the human mind to sublimate its religious creed to the\nlevel of the moral and intellectual standard it had attained, and to make\nreligious ordinances in some degree the instruments of moral improvement.\nBut they are interesting above all, because the Greek and Egyptian methods\nof reform represent with typical distinctness the two great tendencies of\nreligious thought in all succeeding periods. The Greek spirit was\nessentially rationalistic and eclectic; the Egyptian spirit was\nessentially mystical and devotional. The Greek sat in judgment upon his\nreligion. He modified, curtailed, refined, allegorised, or selected. He\ntreated its inconsistencies or absurdities, or immoralities, with\nprecisely the same freedom of criticism as those he encountered in\nordinary life. The Egyptian, on the other hand, bowed low before the\nDivine presence. He veiled his eyes, he humbled his reason, he represented\nthe introduction of a new element into the moral life of Europe, the\nspirit of religious reverence and awe.\n\n\u201cThe Egyptian deities,\u201d it was observed by Apuleius, \u201cwere chiefly\nhonoured by lamentations, and the Greek divinities by dances.\u201d(617) The\ntruth of the last part of this very significant remark appears in every\npage of Greek history. No nation had a richer collection of games and\nfestivals growing out of its religious system; in none did a light,\nsportive, and often licentious fancy play more fearlessly around the\npopular creed, in none was religious terrorism more rare. The Divinity was\nseldom looked upon as holier than man, and a due observance of certain\nrites and ceremonies was deemed an ample tribute to pay to him. In the\nEgyptian system the religious ceremonies were veiled in mystery and\nallegory. Chastity, abstinence from animal food, ablutions, long and\nmysterious ceremonies of preparation or initiation, were the most\nprominent features of worship. The deities representing the great forces\nof nature, and shrouded by mysterious symbols, excited a degree of awe\nwhich no other ancient religion approached.\n\nThe speculative philosophy, and the conceptions of morals, that\naccompanied the inroad of Oriental religions, were of a kindred nature.\nThe most prominent characteristic of the first was its tendency to\nsupersede the deductions of the reason by the intuitions of ecstasy.\nNeoplatonism, and the philosophies that were allied to it, were\nfundamentally pantheistic,(618) but they differed widely from the\npantheism of the Stoics. The Stoics identified man with God, for the\npurpose of glorifying man\u2014the Neoplatonists for the purpose of\naggrandising God. In the conception of the first, man, independent,\nself-controlled, and participating in the highest nature of the universe,\nhas no superior in creation. According to the latter, man is almost a\npassive being, swayed and permeated by a divine impulse. Yet he is not\naltogether divine. The divinity is latent in his soul, but dulled, dimmed,\nand crushed by the tyranny of the body. \u201cTo bring the God that is in us\ninto conformity with the God that is in the universe,\u201d to elicit the ideas\nthat are graven in the mind, but obscured and hidden by the passions of\nthe flesh\u2014above all, to subdue the body, which is the sole obstacle to our\ncomplete fruition of the Deity\u2014was the main object of life. Porphyry\ndescribed all philosophy as an anticipation of death\u2014not in the Stoical\nsense of teaching us to look calmly on our end, but because death realises\nthe ideal of philosophy, the complete separation of soul and body. Hence\nfollowed an ascetic morality, and a supersensual philosophy. \u201cThe greatest\nof all evils,\u201d we are told, \u201cis pleasure; because by it the soul is nailed\nor riveted to the body, and thinks that true which the body persuades it,\nand is thus deprived of the sense of divine things.\u201d(619) \u201cJustice,\nbeauty, and goodness, and all things that are formed by them, no eye has\never seen, no bodily sense can apprehend. Philosophy must be pursued by\npure and unmingled reason and with deadened senses; for the body disturbs\nthe mind, so that it cannot follow after wisdom. As long as it is lost and\nmingled in the clay, we shall never sufficiently possess the truth we\ndesire.\u201d(620)\n\nBut the reason which is thus extolled as the revealer of truth must not be\nconfounded with the process of reasoning. It is something quite different\nfrom criticism, analysis, comparison, or deduction. It is essentially\nintuitive, but it only acquires its power of transcendental intuition\nafter a long process of discipline. When a man passes from the daylight\ninto a room which is almost dark, he is at first absolutely unable to see\nthe objects around him; but gradually his eye grows accustomed to the\nfeeble light, the outline of the room becomes dimly visible, object after\nobject emerges into sight, until at last, by intently gazing, he acquires\nthe power of seeing around him with tolerable distinctness. In this fact\nwe have a partial image of the Neoplatonic doctrine of the knowledge of\ndivine things. Our soul is a dark chamber, darkened by contact with the\nflesh, but in it there are graven divine ideas, there exists a living\ndivine element. The eye of reason, by long and steady introspection, can\nlearn to decipher these characters; the will, aided by an appointed course\nof discipline, can evoke this divine element, and cause it to blend with\nthe universal spirit from which it sprang. The powers of mental\nconcentration, and of metaphysical abstraction, are therefore the highest\nintellectual gifts; and quietism, or the absorption of our nature in God,\nis the last stage of virtue. \u201cThe end of man,\u201d said Pythagoras, \u201cis God.\u201d\nThe mysterious \u2019One,\u2019 the metaphysical abstraction without attributes and\nwithout form which constitutes the First Person of the Alexandrian\nTrinity, is the acme of human thought, and the condition of ecstasy is the\nacme of moral perfection. Plotinus, it was said, had several times\nattained it. Porphyry, after years of discipline, once, and but once.(621)\nThe process of reasoning is here not only useless, but pernicious. \u201cAn\ninnate knowledge of the gods is implanted in our minds prior to all\nreasoning.\u201d(622) In divine things the task of man is not to create or to\nacquire, but to educe. His means of perfection are not dialectics or\nresearch, but long and patient meditation, silence, abstinence from the\ndistractions and occupations of life, the subjugation of the flesh, a life\nof continual discipline, a constant attendance on those mysterious rites\nwhich detach him from material objects, overawe and elevate his mind, and\nquicken his realisation of the Divine presence.(623)\n\nThe system of Neoplatonism represents a mode of thought which in many\nforms, and under many names, may be traced through the most various ages\nand creeds. Mysticism, transcendentalism, inspiration, and grace, are all\nwords expressing the deep-seated belief that we possess fountains of\nknowledge apart from all the acquisitions of the senses; that there are\ncertain states of mind, certain flashes of moral and intellectual\nillumination, which cannot be accounted for by any play or combination of\nour ordinary faculties. For the sobriety, the timidity, the fluctuations\nof the reasoning spirit, Neoplatonism substituted the transports of the\nimagination; and, though it cultivated the power of abstraction, every\nother intellectual gift was sacrificed to the discipline of asceticism. It\nmade men credulous, because it suppressed that critical spirit which is\nthe sole barrier to the ever-encroaching imagination; because it\nrepresented superstitious rites as especially conducive to that state of\necstasy which was the condition of revelation; because it formed a\nnervous, diseased, expectant temperament, ever prone to hallucinations,\never agitated by vague and uncertain feelings that were readily attributed\nto inspiration. As a moral system it carried, indeed, the purification of\nthe feelings and imagination to a higher perfection than any preceding\nschool, but it had the deadly fault of separating sentiment from action.\nIn this respect it was well fitted to be the close, the final suicide, of\nRoman philosophy. Cicero assigned a place of happiness in the future world\nto all who faithfully served the State.(624) The Stoics had taught that\nall virtue was vain that did not issue in action. Even Epictetus, in his\nportrait of the ascetic cynic\u2014even Marcus Aurelius, in his minute\nself-examination\u2014had never forgotten the outer world. The early\nPlatonists, though they dwelt very strongly on mental discipline, were\nequally practical. Plutarch reminds us that the same word is used for\nlight, and for man,(625) for the duty of man is to be the light of the\nworld; and he shrewdly remarked that Hesiod exhorted the husbandman to\npray for the harvest, but to do so with his hand upon the plough.\nApuleius, expounding Plato, taught \u201cthat he who is inspired by nature to\nseek after good must not deem himself born for himself alone, but for all\nmankind, though with diverse kinds and degrees of obligation, for he is\nformed first of all for his country, then for his relations, then for\nthose with whom he is joined by occupation or knowledge.\u201d Maximus of Tyre\ndevoted two noble essays to showing the vanity of all virtue which\nexhausts itself in mental transports without radiating in action among\nmankind. \u201cWhat use,\u201d he asked, \u201cis there in knowledge unless we do those\nthings for which knowledge is profitable? What use is there in the skill\nof the physician unless by that skill he heals the sick, or in the art of\nPhidias unless he chisels the ivory or the gold.... Hercules was a wise\nman, but not for himself, but that by his wisdom he might diffuse benefits\nover every land and sea.... Had he preferred to lead a life apart from\nmen, and to follow an idle wisdom, Hercules would indeed have been a\nSophist, and no one would call him the son of Zeus. For God himself is\nnever idle; were He to rest, the sky would cease to move, and the earth to\nproduce, and the rivers to flow into the ocean, and the seasons to pursue\ntheir appointed course.\u201d(626) But the Neoplatonists, though they sometimes\nspoke of civic virtues, regarded the condition of ecstasy as not only\ntranscending, but including all, and that condition could only be arrived\nat by a passive life. The saying of Anaxagoras, that his mission was \u201cto\ncontemplate the sun, the stars, and the course of nature, and that this\ncontemplation was wisdom,\u201d was accepted as an epitome of their\nphilosophy.(627) A senator named Rogantianus, who had followed the\nteaching of Plotinus, acquired so intense a disgust for the things of\nlife, that he left all his property, refused to fulfil the duties of a\npr\u00e6tor, abandoned his senatorial functions, and withdrew himself from\nevery form of business and pleasure. Plotinus, instead of reproaching him,\noverwhelmed him with eulogy, selected him as his favourite disciple, and\ncontinually represented him as the model of a philosopher.(628)\n\nThe two characteristics I have noticed\u2014the abandonment of civic duties,\nand the discouragement of the critical spirit\u2014had from a very early period\nbeen manifest in the Pythagorean school.(629) In the blending philosophies\nof the third and fourth centuries, they became continually more apparent.\nPlotinus was still an independent philosopher, inheriting the traditions\nof Greek thought, though not the traditions of Greek life, building his\nsystem avowedly by a rational method, and altogether rejecting theurgy or\nreligious magic. His disciple, Porphyry, first made Neoplatonism\nanti-Christian, and, in his violent antipathy to the new faith, began to\nconvert it into a religious system. Iamblichus, who was himself an\nEgyptian priest, completed the transformation,(630) resolved all moral\ndiscipline into theurgy, and sacrificed all reasoning to faith.(631)\nJulian attempted to realise the conception of a revived Paganism, blending\nwith and purified by philosophy. In every form the appetite for miracles\nand for belief was displayed. The theory of d\u00e6mons completely superseded\nthe old Stoical naturalism, which regarded the different Pagan divinities\nas allegories or personifications of the Divine attributes. The Platonic\nethics were again, for the most part, in the ascendant, but they were\ndeeply tinctured by a foreign element. Thus, suicide was condemned by the\nNeoplatonists, not merely on the principle of Plato, that it is an\nabandonment of the post of duty to which the Deity has called us, but also\non the quietist ground, that perturbation is necessarily a pollution of\nthe soul, and that, as mental perturbation accompanies the act, the soul\nof the suicide departs polluted from the body.(632) The belief in a future\nworld, which was the common glory of the schools of Pythagoras and of\nPlato, had become universal. As Roman greatness, in which men had long\nseen the reward of virtue, faded rapidly away, the conception of \u201ca city\nof God\u201d began to grow more clearly in the minds of men, and the countless\nslaves who were among the chief propagators of Oriental faiths, and who\nhad begun to exercise an unprecedented influence in Roman life, turned\nwith a natural and a touching eagerness towards a happier and a freer\nworld.(633) The incredulity of Lucretius, C\u00e6sar, and Pliny had\ndisappeared. Above all, a fusion had been effected between moral\ndiscipline and religion, and the moralist sought his chief means of\npurification in the ceremonies of the temple.\n\nI have now completed the long and complicated task to which the present\nchapter has been devoted. I have endeavoured to exhibit, so far as can be\ndone, by a description of general tendencies, and by a selection of\nquotations, the spirit of the long series of Pagan moralists who taught at\nRome during the period that elapsed between the rise of Roman philosophy\nand the triumph of Christianity. My object has not been to classify these\nwriters with minute accuracy, according to their speculative tenets, but\nrather, as I had proposed, to exhibit the origin, the nature, and the\nfortunes of the general notion or type of virtue which each moralist had\nregarded as supremely good. History is not a mere succession of events\nconnected only by chronology. It is a chain of causes and effects. There\nis a great natural difference of degree and direction in both the moral\nand intellectual capacities of individuals, but it is not probable that\nthe general average of natural morals in great bodies of men materially\nvaries. When we find a society very virtuous or very vicious\u2014when some\nparticular virtue or vice occupies a peculiar prominence, or when\nimportant changes pass over the moral conceptions or standard of the\npeople\u2014we have to trace in these things simply the action of the\ncircumstances that were dominant. The history of Roman ethics represents a\nsteady and uniform current, guided by the general conditions of society,\nand its progress may be marked by the successive ascendancy of the Roman,\nthe Greek, and the Egyptian spirit.\n\nIn the age of Cato and Cicero the character of the ideal was wholly Roman,\nalthough the philosophical expression of that character was derived from\nthe Greek Stoics. It exhibited all the force, the grandeur, the hardness,\nthe practical tendency which Roman circumstances had early created,\ncombined with that catholicity of spirit which resulted from very recent\npolitical and intellectual changes. In the course of time, the Greek\nelement, which represented the gentler and more humane spirit of\nantiquity, gained an ascendancy. It did so by simple propagandism, aided\nby the long peace of the Antonines, by the effeminate habits produced by\nthe increasing luxury, by the attractions of the metropolis, which had\ndrawn multitudes of Greeks to Rome, by the patronage of the Emperors, and\nalso by the increasing realisation of the doctrine of universal\nbrotherhood, which Pan\u00e6tius and Cicero had asserted, but of which the full\nconsequences were only perceived by their successors. The change in the\ntype of virtue was shown in the influence of eclectic, and for the most\npart Platonic, moralists, whose special assaults were directed against the\nStoical condemnation of the emotions, and in the gradual softening of the\nStoical type. In Seneca the hardness of the sect, though very apparent, is\nbroken by precepts of a real and extensive benevolence, though that\nbenevolence springs rather from a sense of duty than from tenderness of\nfeeling. In Dion Chrysostom the practical benevolence is not less\nprominent, but there is less both of pride and of callousness. Epictetus\nembodied the sternest Stoicism in his Manual, but his dissertations\nexhibit a deep religious feeling and a wide range of sympathies. In Marcus\nAurelius the emotional elements had greatly increased, and the amiable\nqualities began to predominate over the heroic ones. We find at the same\ntime a new stress laid upon purity of thought and imagination, a growing\nfeeling of reverence, and an earnest desire to reform the popular\nreligion.\n\nThis second stage exhibits a happy combination of the Roman and Greek\nspirits. Disinterested, strictly practical, averse to the speculative\nsubtilties of the Greek intellect, Stoicism was still the religion of a\npeople who were the rulers and the organisers of the world, whose\nenthusiasm was essentially patriotic, and who had learnt to sacrifice\neverything but pride to the sense of duty. It had, however, become\namiable, gentle, and spiritual. It had gained much in beauty, while it had\nlost something in force. In the world of morals, as in the world of\nphysics, strength is nearly allied to hardness. He who feels keenly is\neasily moved, and a sensitive sympathy which lies at the root of an\namiable character is in consequence a principle of weakness. The race of\ngreat Roman Stoics, which had never ceased during the tyranny of Nero or\nDomitian, began to fail. In the very moment when the ideal of the sect had\nattained its supreme perfection, a new movement appeared, the philosophy\nsank into disrepute, and the last act of the drama began.\n\nIn this, as in the preceding ones, all was normal and regular. The long\ncontinuance of despotic government had gradually destroyed the active\npublic spirit of which Stoicism was the expression. The predominance of\nthe subtle intellect of Greece, and the multiplication of rhetoricians,\nhad converted the philosophy into a school of disputation and of\ncasuistry. The increasing cultivation of the emotions continued, till what\nmay be termed the moral centre was changed, and the development of feeling\nwas deemed more important than the regulation of actions. This cultivation\nof the emotions predisposed men to religion. A reaction, intensified by\nmany minor causes, set in against the scepticism of the preceding\ngeneration, and Alexandria gradually became the moral capital of the\nempire. The Roman type speedily disappeared. A union was effected between\nsuperstitious rites and philosophy, and the worship of Egyptian deities\nprepared the way for the teaching of the Neoplatonists, who combined the\nmost visionary part of the speculations of Plato with the ancient\nphilosophies of the East. In Plotinus we find most of the first; in\nIamblichus most of the second. The minds of men, under their influence,\ngrew introspective, credulous, and superstitious, and found their ideal\nstates in the hallucinations of ecstasy and the calm of an unpractical\nmysticism.\n\nSuch were the influences which acted in turn upon a society which, by\ndespotism, by slavery, and by atrocious amusements, had been debased and\ncorrupted to the very core. Each sect which successively arose contributed\nsomething to remedy the evil. Stoicism placed beyond cavil the great\ndistinctions between right and wrong. It inculcated the doctrine of\nuniversal brotherhood, it created a noble literature and a noble\nlegislation, and it associated its moral system with the patriotic spirit\nwhich was then the animating spirit of Roman life. The early Platonists of\nthe Empire corrected the exaggerations of Stoicism, gave free scope to the\namiable qualities, and supplied a theory of right and wrong, suited not\nmerely for heroic characters and for extreme emergencies, but also for the\ncharacters and the circumstances of common life. The Pythagorean and\nNeoplatonic schools revived the feeling of religious reverence, inculcated\nhumility, prayerfulness, and purity of thought, and accustomed men to\nassociate their moral ideals with the Deity, rather than with themselves.\n\nThe moral improvement of society was now to pass into other hands. A\nreligion which had long been increasing in obscurity began to emerge into\nthe light. By the beauty of its moral precepts, by the systematic skill\nwith which it governed the imagination and habits of its worshippers, by\nthe strong religious motives to which it could appeal, by its admirable\necclesiastical organisation, and, it must be added, by its unsparing use\nof the arm of power, Christianity soon eclipsed or destroyed all other\nsects, and became for many centuries the supreme ruler of the moral world.\nCombining the Stoical doctrine of universal brotherhood, the Greek\npredilection for the amiable qualities, and the Egyptian spirit of\nreverence and religious awe, it acquired from the first an intensity and\nuniversality of influence which none of the philosophies it had superseded\nhad approached. I have now to examine the moral causes that governed the\nrise of this religion in Rome, the ideal of virtue it presented, the\ndegree and manner in which it stamped its image upon the character of\nnations, and the perversions and distortions it underwent.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. THE CONVERSION OF ROME.\n\n\nThere is no fact in the history of the human mind more remarkable than the\ncomplete unconsciousness of the importance and the destinies of\nChristianity, manifested by the Pagan writers before the accession of\nConstantine. So large an amount of attention has been bestowed on the ten\nor twelve allusions to it they furnish, that we are sometimes apt to\nforget how few and meagre those allusions are, and how utterly impossible\nit is to construct from them, with any degree of certainty, a history of\nthe early Church. Plutarch and the elder Pliny, who probably surpass all\nother writers of their time in the range of their illustrations, and\nSeneca, who was certainly the most illustrious moralist of his age, never\neven mention it. Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius have each adverted to it\nwith a passing and contemptuous censure. Tacitus describes in detail the\npersecution by Nero, but treats the suffering religion merely as \u201can\nexecrable superstition;\u201d while Suetonius, employing the same expression,\nreckons the persecution among the acts of the tyrant that were either\nlaudable or indifferent. Our most important document is the famous letter\nof the younger Pliny. Lucian throws some light both on the extent of\nChristian charity, and on the aspect in which Christians were regarded by\nthe religious jugglers of their age, and the long series of Pagans who\nwrote the lives of the Emperors in that most critical period from the\naccession of Hadrian, almost to the eve of the triumph of the Church,\namong a crowd of details concerning the dresses, games, vices, and follies\nof the Court, supply us with six or seven short notices of the religion\nthat was transforming the world.\n\nThe general silence of the Pagan writers on this subject did not arise\nfrom any restrictions imposed upon them by authority, for in this field\nthe widest latitude was conceded, nor yet from the notions of the dignity\nof history, or the importance of individual exertions, which have induced\nsome historians to resolve their task into a catalogue of the achievements\nof kings, statesmen, and generals. The conception of history, as the\nrecord and explanation of moral revolutions, though of course not\ndeveloped to the same prominence as among some modern writers, was by no\nmeans unknown in antiquity,(634) and in many branches our knowledge of the\nsocial changes of the Roman Empire is extremely copious. The dissolution\nof old beliefs, the decomposition of the entire social and moral system\nthat had arisen under the Republic, engaged in the very highest degree the\nattention of the literary classes, and they displayed the most commendable\ndiligence in tracing its stages. It is very curious and instructive to\ncontrast the ample information they have furnished us concerning the\ngrowth of Roman luxury, with their almost absolute silence concerning the\ngrowth of Christianity. The moral importance of the former movement they\nclearly recognised, and they have accordingly preserved so full a record\nof all the changes in dress, banquets, buildings, and spectacles, that it\nwould be possible to write with the most minute detail the whole history\nof Roman luxury, from the day when a censor deprived an elector of his\nvote because his garden was negligently cultivated, to the orgies of Nero\nor Heliogabalus. The moral importance of the other movement they\naltogether overlooked, and their oversight leaves a chasm in history which\ncan never be supplied.\n\nThat the greatest religious change in the history of mankind should have\ntaken place under the eyes of a brilliant galaxy of philosophers and\nhistorians, who were profoundly conscious of the decomposition around\nthem, that all of these writers should have utterly failed to predict the\nissue of the movement they were observing, and that, during the space of\nthree centuries, they should have treated as simply contemptible an agency\nwhich all men must now admit to have been, for good or for evil, the most\npowerful moral lever that has ever been applied to the affairs of man, are\nfacts well worthy of meditation in every period of religious transition.\nThe explanation is to be found in that broad separation between the\nspheres of morals and of positive religion we have considered in the last\nchapter. In modern times, men who were examining the probable moral future\nof the world, would naturally, and in the first place, direct their\nattention to the relative positions and the probable destinies of\nreligious institutions. In the Stoical period of the Roman Empire,\npositive religion had come to be regarded as merely an art for obtaining\npreternatural assistance in the affairs of life, and the moral\namelioration of mankind was deemed altogether external to its sphere.\nPhilosophy had become to the educated most literally a religion. It was\nthe rule of life, the exposition of the Divine nature, the source of\ndevotional feeling. The numerous Oriental superstitions that had deluged\nthe city were regarded as peculiarly pernicious and contemptible, and of\nthese none was less likely to attract the favour of the philosophers than\nthat of the Jews,(635) who were notorious as the most sordid, the most\nturbulent,(636) and the most unsocial(637) of the Oriental colonists. Of\nthe ignorance of their tenets, displayed even by the most eminent Romans,\nwe have a striking illustration in the long series of grotesque fables\nconcerning their belief, probably derived from some satirical pamphlet,\nwhich Tacitus has gravely inserted in his history.(638) Christianity, in\nthe eyes of the philosopher, was simply a sect of Judaism.\n\nAlthough I am anxious in the present work to avoid, as far as possible,\nall questions that are purely theological, and to consider Christianity\nmerely in its aspect as a moral agent, it will be necessary to bestow a\nfew preliminary pages upon its triumph in the Roman Empire, in order to\nascertain how far that triumph was due to moral causes, and what were its\nrelations to the prevailing philosophy. There are some writers who have\nbeen so struck with the conformity between some of the doctrines of the\nlater Stoics and those of Christianity that they have imagined that\nChristianity had early obtained a decisive influence over philosophy, and\nthat the leading teachers of Rome had been in some measure its disciples.\nThere are others who reduce the conversion of the Roman Empire to a mere\nquestion of evidences, to the overwhelming proofs the Christian teachers\nproduced of the authenticity of the Gospel narratives. There are others,\nagain, who deem the triumph of Christianity simply miraculous. Everything,\nthey tell us, was against it. The course of the Church was like that of a\nship sailing rapidly and steadily to the goal, in direct defiance of both\nwind and tide, and the conversion of the Empire was as literally\nsupernatural as the raising of the dead, or the sudden quelling of the\nstorm.\n\nOn the first of these theories it will not, I think, be necessary, after\nthe last chapter, to expatiate at length. It is admitted that the greatest\nmoralists of the Roman Empire either never mentioned Christianity, or\nmentioned it with contempt; that they habitually disregarded the many\nreligions which had arisen among the ignorant; and that we have no direct\nevidence of the slightest value of their ever having come in contact with\nor favoured the Christians. The supposition that they were influenced by\nChristianity rests mainly upon their enforcement of the Christian duty of\nself-examination, upon their strong assertion of the universal brotherhood\nof mankind, and upon the delicate and expansive humanity they at last\nevinced. But although on all these points the later Stoics approximated\nmuch to Christianity, we have already seen that it is easy to discover in\neach case the cause of the tendency. The duty of self-examination was\nsimply a Pythagorean precept, enforced in that school long before the rise\nof Christianity, introduced into Stoicism when Pythagoreanism became\npopular in Rome, and confessedly borrowed from this source. The doctrine\nof the universal brotherhood of mankind was the manifest expression of\nthose political and social changes which reduced the whole civilised globe\nto one great empire, threw open to the most distant tribes the right of\nRoman citizenship, and subverted all those class divisions around which\nmoral theories had been formed. Cicero asserted it as emphatically as\nSeneca. The theory of pantheism, representing the entire creation as one\ngreat body, pervaded by one Divine soul, harmonised with it; and it is a\ncurious fact that the very phraseology concerning the fellow-membership of\nall things in God, which has been most confidently adduced by some modern\nwriters as proving the connection between Seneca and Christianity, was\nselected by Lactantius as the clearest illustration of the pantheism of\nStoicism.(639) The humane character of the later Stoical teaching was\nobviously due to the infusion of the Greek element into Roman life, which\nbegan before the foundation of the Empire, and received a new impulse in\nthe reign of Hadrian, and also to the softening influence of a luxurious\ncivilisation, and of the long peace of the Antonines. While far inferior\nto the Greeks in practical and realised humanity, the Romans never\nsurpassed their masters in theoretical humanity except in one respect. The\nhumanity of the Greeks, though very earnest, was confined within a narrow\ncircle. The social and political circumstances of the Roman Empire\ndestroyed the barrier.\n\nThe only case in which any plausible arguments have been urged in favour\nof the notion that the writings of the Stoics were influenced by the New\nTestament is that of Seneca. This philosopher was regarded by all the\nmedi\u00e6val writers as a Christian, on the ground of a correspondence with\nSt. Paul, which formed part of a forged account of the martyrdom of St.\nPeter and St. Paul, attributed to St. Linus. These letters, which were\nabsolutely unnoticed during the first three centuries, and are first\nmentioned by St. Jerome, are now almost universally abandoned as\nforgeries;(640) but many curious coincidences of phraseology have been\npointed out between the writings of Seneca and the epistles of St. Paul;\nand the presumption derived from them has been strengthened by the facts\nthat the brother of Seneca was that Gallio who refused to hear the\ndisputes between St. Paul and the Jews, and that Burrhus, who was the\nfriend and colleague of Seneca, was the officer to whose custody St. Paul\nhad been entrusted at Rome. Into the minute verbal criticism to which this\nquestion had given rise,(641) it is not necessary for me to enter. It has\nbeen shown that much of what was deemed Christian phraseology grew out of\nthe pantheistic notion of one great body including, and one Divine mind\nanimating and guiding, all existing things; and many other of the\npretended coincidences are so slight as to be altogether worthless as an\nargument. Still I think most persons who review what has been written on\nthe subject will conclude that it is probable some fragments at least of\nChristian language had come to the ears of Seneca. But to suppose that his\nsystem of morals is in any degree formed after the model or under the\ninfluence of Christianity, is to be blind to the most obvious\ncharacteristics of both Christianity and Stoicism; for no other moralist\ncould be so aptly selected as representing their extreme divergence.\nReverence and humility, a constant sense of the supreme majesty of God and\nof the weakness and sinfulness of man, and a perpetual reference to\nanother world, were the essential characteristics of Christianity, the\nsource of all its power, the basis of its distinctive type. Of all these,\nthe teaching of Seneca is the direct antithesis. Careless of the future\nworld, and profoundly convinced of the supreme majesty of man, he laboured\nto emancipate his disciples \u201cfrom every fear of God and man;\u201d and the\nproud language in which he claimed for the sage an equality with the gods\nrepresents, perhaps, the highest point to which philosophic arrogance has\nbeen carried. The Jews, with whom the Christians were then universally\nidentified, he emphatically describes as \u201can accursed race.\u201d(642) One man,\nindeed, there was among the later Stoics who had almost realised the\nChristian type, and in whose pure and gentle nature the arrogance of his\nschool can be scarcely traced; but Marcus Aurelius, who of all the Pagan\nworld, if we argued by internal evidence alone, would have been most\nreadily identified with Christianity, was a persecutor of the faith, and\nhe has left on record in his \u201cMeditations\u201d his contempt for the Christian\nmartyrs.(643)\n\nThe relation between the Pagan philosophers and the Christian religion was\na subject of much discussion and of profound difference of opinion in the\nearly Church.(644) While the writers of one school apologised for the\nmurder of Socrates, described the martyred Greek as the \u2019buffoon of\nAthens,\u2019(645) and attributed his inspiration to diabolical influence;(646)\nwhile they designated the writings of the philosophers as \u201cthe schools of\nheretics,\u201d and collected with a malicious assiduity all the calumnies that\nhad been heaped upon their memory\u2014there were others who made it a leading\nobject to establish a close affinity between Pagan philosophy and the\nChristian revelation. Imbued in many instances, almost from childhood,\nwith the noble teaching of Plato, and keenly alive to the analogies\nbetween his philosophy and their new faith, these writers found the\nexhibition of this resemblance at once deeply grateful to themselves and\nthe most successful way of dispelling the prejudices of their Pagan\nneighbours. The success that had attended the Christian prophecies\nattributed to the Sibyls and the oracles, the passion for eclecticism,\nwhich the social and commercial position of Alexandria had generated, and\nalso the example of the Jew Aristobulus, who had some time before\ncontended that the Jewish writings had been translated into Greek, and had\nbeen the source of much of the Pagan wisdom, encouraged them in their\ncourse. The most conciliatory, and at the same time the most philosophical\nschool, was the earliest in the Church. Justin Martyr\u2014the first of the\nFathers whose writings possess any general philosophical\ninterest\u2014cordially recognises the excellence of many parts of the Pagan\nphilosophy, and even attributes it to a Divine inspiration, to the action\nof the generative or \u201cseminal Logos,\u201d which from the earliest times had\nexisted in the world, had inspired teachers like Socrates and Musonius,\nwho had been persecuted by the d\u00e6mons, and had received in Christianity\nits final and perfect manifestation.(647) The same generous and expansive\nappreciation may be traced in the writings of several later Fathers,\nalthough the school was speedily disfigured by some grotesque\nextravagances. Clement of Alexandria\u2014a writer of wide sympathies,\nconsiderable originality, very extensive learning, but of a feeble and\nfantastic judgment\u2014who immediately succeeded Justin Martyr, attributed all\nthe wisdom of antiquity to two sources. The first source was tradition;\nfor the angels, who had been fascinated by the antediluvian ladies, had\nendeavoured to ingratiate themselves with their fair companions by giving\nthem an abstract of the metaphysical and other learning which was then\ncurrent in heaven, and the substance of these conversations, being\ntransmitted by tradition, supplied the Pagan philosophers with their\nleading notions. The angels did not know everything, and therefore the\nGreek philosophy was imperfect; but this event formed the first great\nepoch in literary history. The second and most important source of Pagan\nwisdom was the Old Testament,(648) the influence of which many of the\nearly Christians traced in every department of ancient wisdom. Plato had\nborrowed from it all his philosophy, Homer the noblest conceptions of his\npoetry, Demosthenes the finest touches of his eloquence. Even Miltiades\nowed his military skill to an assiduous study of the Pentateuch, and the\nambuscade by which he won the battle of Marathon was imitated from the\nstrategy of Moses.(649) Pythagoras, moreover, had been himself a\ncircumcised Jew.(650) Plato had been instructed in Egypt by the prophet\nJeremiah. The god Serapis was no other than the patriarch Joseph, his\nEgyptian name being manifestly derived from his great-grandmother\nSarah.(651)\n\nAbsurdities of this kind, of which I have given extreme but by no means\nthe only examples, were usually primarily intended to repel arguments\nagainst Christianity, and they are illustrations of the tendency which has\nalways existed in an uncritical age to invent, without a shadow of\nfoundation, the most elaborate theories of explanation rather than\nrecognise the smallest force in an objection. Thus, when the Pagans\nattempted to reduce Christianity to a normal product of the human mind, by\npointing to the very numerous Pagan legends which were precisely parallel\nto the Jewish histories, it was answered that the d\u00e6mons were careful\nstudents of prophecy, that they foresaw with terror the advent of their\nDivine Conqueror, and that, in order to prevent men believing in him, they\nhad invented, by anticipation, a series of legends resembling the events\nwhich were foretold.(652) More frequently, however, the early Christians\nretorted the accusations of plagiarism, and by forged writings attributed\nto Pagan authors, or, by pointing out alleged traces of Jewish influence\nin genuine Pagan writings, they endeavoured to trace through the past the\nfootsteps of their faith. But this method of assimilation, which\nculminated in the Gnostics, the Neoplatonists, and especially in Origen,\nwas directed not to the later Stoics of the Empire, but to the great\nphilosophers who had preceded Christianity. It was in the writings of\nPlato, not in those of Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius, that the Fathers of\nthe first three centuries found the influence of the Jewish Scriptures,\nand at the time when the passion for discovering these connections was\nmost extravagant, the notion of Seneca and his followers being inspired by\nthe Christians was unknown.\n\nDismissing then, as altogether groundless, the notion that Christianity\nhad obtained a complete or even a partial influence over the philosophic\nclasses during the period of Stoical ascendancy, we come to the opinion of\nthose who suppose that the Roman Empire was converted by a system of\nevidences\u2014by the miraculous proofs of the divinity of Christianity,\nsubmitted to the adjudication of the people. To estimate this view aright,\nwe have to consider both the capacity of the men of that age for judging\nmiracles, and also\u2014which is a different question\u2014the extent to which such\nevidence would weigh upon their minds. To treat this subject\nsatisfactorily, it may be advisable to enter at some little length into\nthe broad question of the evidence of the miraculous.\n\nWith the exception of a small minority of the priests of the Catholic\nChurch, a general incredulity on the subject of miracles now underlies the\nopinions of almost all educated men. Nearly every one, however cordially\nhe may admit some one particular class of miracles, as a general rule\nregards the accounts of such events, which are so frequent in all old\nhistorians, as false and incredible, even when he fully believes the\nnatural events that are authenticated by the same testimony. The reason of\nthis incredulity is not altogether the impossibility or even extreme\nnatural improbability of miracles; for, whatever may be the case with\nsome, there is at least one class or conception of them which is perfectly\nfree from logical difficulty. There is no contradiction involved in the\nbelief that spiritual beings, of power and wisdom immeasurably\ntranscending our own, exist, or that, existing, they might, by the normal\nexercise of their powers, perform feats as far surpassing the\nunderstanding of the most gifted of mankind, as the electric telegraph and\nthe prediction of an eclipse surpass the faculties of a savage. Nor does\nthe incredulity arise, I think, as is commonly asserted, from the want of\nthat amount and kind of evidence which in other departments is deemed\nsufficient. Very few of the minor facts of history are authenticated by as\nmuch evidence as the Stigmata of St. Francis, or the miracle of the holy\nthorn, or those which were said to have been wrought at the tomb of the\nAbb\u00e9 Paris. We believe, with tolerable assurance, a crowd of historical\nevents on the testimony of one or two Roman historians; but when Tacitus\nand Suetonius describe how Vespasian restored a blind man to sight, and a\ncripple to strength,(653) their deliberate assertions do not even beget in\nour minds a suspicion that the narrative may possibly be true. We are\nquite certain that miracles were not ordinary occurrences in classical or\nmedi\u00e6val times, but nearly all the contemporary writers from whom we\nderive our knowledge of those periods were convinced that they were.\n\nIf, then, I have correctly interpreted the opinions of ordinary educated\npeople on this subject, it appears that the common attitude towards\nmiracles is not that of doubt, of hesitation, of discontent with the\nexisting evidence, but rather of absolute, derisive, and even unexamining\nincredulity. Such a fact, when we consider that the antecedent possibility\nof at least some miracles is usually admitted, and in the face of the vast\nmass of tradition that may be adduced in their favour, appears at first\nsight a striking anomaly, and the more so because it can be shown that the\nbelief in miracles had in most cases not been reasoned down, but had\nsimply faded away.\n\nIn order to ascertain the process by which this state of mind has been\nattained, we may take an example in a sphere which is happily removed from\ncontroversy. There are very few persons with whom the fictitious character\nof fairy tales has not ceased to be a question, or who would hesitate to\ndisbelieve or even to ridicule any anecdote of this nature which was told\nthem, without the very smallest examination of its evidence. Yet, if we\nask in what respect the existence of fairies is naturally contradictory or\nabsurd, it would be difficult to answer the question. A fairy is simply a\nbeing possessing a moderate share of human intelligence, with little or no\nmoral faculty, with a body pellucid, winged, and volatile, like that of an\ninsect, with a passion for dancing, and, perhaps, with an extraordinary\nknowledge of the properties of different plants. That such beings should\nexist, or that, existing, they should be able to do many things beyond\nhuman power, are propositions which do not present the smallest\ndifficulty. For many centuries their existence was almost universally\nbelieved. There is not a country, not a province, scarcely a parish, in\nwhich traditions of their appearance were not long preserved. So great a\nweight of tradition, so many independent trains of evidence attesting\nstatements perfectly free from intrinsic absurdity, or even improbability,\nmight appear sufficient, if not to establish conviction, at least to\nsupply a very strong _prim\u00e2 facie_ case, and ensure a patient and\nrespectful investigation of the subject.\n\nIt has not done so, and the reason is sufficiently plain. The question of\nthe credibility of fairy tales has not been resolved by an examination of\nevidence, but by an observation of the laws of historic development.\nWherever we find an ignorant and rustic population, the belief in fairies\nis found to exist, and circumstantial accounts of their apparitions are\ncirculated. But invariably with increased education this belief passes\naway. It is not that the fairy tales are refuted or explained away, or\neven narrowly scrutinised. It is that the fairies cease to appear. From\nthe uniformity of this decline, we infer that fairy tales are the normal\nproduct of a certain condition of the imagination; and this position is\nraised to a moral certainty when we find that the decadence of fairy tales\nis but one of a long series of similar transformations.\n\nWhen the savage looks around upon the world and begins to form his\ntheories of existence, he falls at once into three great errors, which\nbecome the first principles of his subsequent opinions. He believes that\nthis earth is the centre of the universe, and that all the bodies\nencircling it are intended for its use; that the disturbances and\ndislocations it presents, and especially the master curse of death, are\nconnected with some event in his history, and also that the numerous\nphenomena and natural vicissitudes he sees around him are due to direct\nand isolated volitions, either of spirits presiding over, or of\nintelligences inherent in, matter. Around these leading conceptions a\ncrowd of particular legends speedily cluster. If a stone falls beside him,\nhe naturally infers that some one has thrown it. If it be an a\u00ebrolite, it\nis attributed to some celestial being. Believing that each comet, tempest,\nor pestilence results from a direct and isolated act, he proceeds to make\ntheories regarding the motives that have induced his spiritual persecutors\nto assail him, and the methods by which he may assuage their anger.\nFinding numerous distinct trains or series of phenomena, he invents for\neach appropriate presiding spirits. Miracles are to him neither strange\nevents nor violations of natural law, but simply the unveiling or\nmanifestation of the ordinary government of the world.\n\nWith these broad intellectual conceptions several minor influences concur.\nA latent fetichism, which is betrayed in that love of direct\npersonification, or of applying epithets derived from sentient beings to\ninanimate nature, which appears so largely in all poetry and eloquence,\nand especially in those of an early period of society, is the root of a\ngreat part of our opinions. If\u2014to employ a very familiar illustration\u2014the\nmost civilised and rational of mankind will observe his own emotions, when\nby some accident he has struck his head violently against a door-post, he\nwill probably find that his first exclamation was not merely of pain but\nof anger, and of anger directed against the wood. In a moment reason\nchecks the emotion; but if he observes carefully his own feelings, he may\neasily convince himself of the unconscious fetichism which, is latent in\nhis mind, and which, in the case of a child or a savage, displays itself\nwithout reserve. Man instinctively ascribes volition to whatever\npowerfully affects him. The feebleness of his imagination conspires with\nother causes to prevent an uncivilised man from rising above the\nconception of an anthropomorphic Deity, and the capricious or isolated\nacts of such a being form his exact notion of miracles. The same\nfeebleness of imagination makes him clothe all intellectual tendencies,\nall conflicting emotions, all forces, passions, or fancies, in material\nforms. His mind naturally translates the conflict between opposing\nfeelings into a history of the combat between rival spirits. A vast\naccumulation of myths is spontaneously formed\u2014each legend being merely the\nmaterial expression of a moral fact. The simple love of the wonderful, and\nthe complete absence of all critical spirit, aid the formation.\n\nIn this manner we find that in certain stages of society, and under the\naction of the influences I have stated, an accretion of miraculous legends\nis naturally formed around prominent personages or institutions. We look\nfor them as we look for showers in April, or for harvest in autumn. We can\nvery rarely show with any confidence the precise manner in which a\nparticular legend is created or the nucleus of truth it contains, but we\ncan analyse the general causes that have impelled men towards the\nmiraculous; we can show that these causes have never failed to produce the\neffect, and we can trace the gradual alteration of mental conditions\ninvariably accompanying the decline of the belief. When men are destitute\nof critical spirit, when the notion of uniform law is yet unborn, and when\ntheir imaginations are still incapable of rising to abstract ideas,\nhistories of miracles are always formed and always believed, and they\ncontinue to flourish and to multiply until these conditions have altered.\nMiracles cease when men cease to believe and to expect them. In periods\nthat are equally credulous, they multiply or diminish in proportion to the\nintensity with which the imagination is directed to theological topics. A\ncomparison of the histories of the most different nations shows the\nmythical period to have been common to all; and we may trace in many\nquarters substantially the same miracles, though varied by national\ncharacteristics, and with a certain local cast and colouring. As among the\nAlps the same shower falls as rain in the sunny valleys, and as snow among\nthe lofty peaks, so the same intellectual conceptions which in one moral\nlatitude take the form of nymphs, or fairies, or sportive legends, appear\nin another as d\u00e6mons or appalling apparitions. Sometimes we can discover\nthe precise natural fact which the superstition had misread. Thus,\nepilepsy, the phenomenon of nightmare, and that form of madness which\nleads men to imagine themselves transformed into some animal, are,\ndoubtless, the explanation of many tales of demoniacal possession, of\nincubi, and of lycanthropy. In other cases we may detect a single error,\nsuch as the notion that the sky is close to the earth, or that the sun\nrevolves around the globe, which had suggested the legend. But more\nfrequently we can give only a general explanation, enabling us to assign\nthese legends to their place, as the normal expression of a certain stage\nof knowledge or intellectual power; and this explanation is their\nrefutation. We do not say that they are impossible, or even that they are\nnot authenticated by as much evidence as many facts we believe. We only\nsay that, in certain conditions of society, illusions of the kind\ninevitably appear. No one can prove that there are no such things as\nghosts; but if a man whose brain is reeling with fever declares that he\nhas seen one, we have no great difficulty in forming an opinion about his\nassertion.\n\nThe gradual decadence of miraculous narratives which accompanies advancing\ncivilisation may be chiefly traced to three causes. The first is that\ngeneral accuracy of observation and of statement which all education tends\nmore or less to produce, which checks the amplifications of the\nundisciplined imagination, and is speedily followed by a much stronger\nmoral feeling on the subject of truth than ever exists in a rude\ncivilisation. The second is an increased power of abstraction, which is\nlikewise a result of general education, and which, by correcting the early\nhabit of personifying all phenomena, destroys one of the most prolific\nsources of legends, and closes the mythical period of history. The third\nis the progress of physical science, which gradually dispels that\nconception of a universe governed by perpetual and arbitrary interference,\nfrom which, for the most part, these legends originally sprang. The whole\nhistory of physical science is one continued revelation of the reign of\nlaw. The same law that governs the motions of a grain of dust, or the\nlight of the glowworm\u2019s lamp, is shown to preside over the march of the\nmost majestic planet or the fire of the most distant sun. Countless\nphenomena, which were for centuries universally believed to be the results\nof spiritual agency, portents of calamity, or acts of Divine vengeance,\nhave been one by one explained, have been shown to rise from blind\nphysical causes, to be capable of prediction, or amenable to human\nremedies. Forms of madness which were for ages supposed to result from\npossession, are treated successfully in our hospitals. The advent of the\ncomet is predicted. The wire invented by the sceptic Franklin defends the\ncrosses on our churches from the lightning stroke of heaven. Whether we\nexamine the course of the planets or the world of the animalcul\u00e6; to\nwhatever field of physical nature our research is turned, the uniform,\ninvariable result of scientific enquiry is to show that even the most\napparently irregular and surprising phenomena are governed by natural\nantecedents, and are parts of one great connected system. From this vast\nconcurrence of evidence, from this uniformity of experience in so many\nspheres, there arises in the minds of scientific men a conviction,\namounting to absolute moral certainty, that the whole course of physical\nnature is governed by law, that the notion of the perpetual interference\nof the Deity with some particular classes of its phenomena is false and\nunscientific, and that the theological habit of interpreting the\ncatastrophes of nature as Divine warnings or punishments, or disciplines,\nis a baseless and a pernicious superstition.\n\nThe effects of these discoveries upon miraculous legends are of various\nkinds. In the first place, a vast number which have clustered around the\nnotion of the irregularity of some phenomenon which is proved to be\nregular\u2014such as the innumerable accounts collected by the ancients to\ncorroborate their opinion of the portentous nature of comets\u2014are directly\noverthrown. In the next place, the revelation of the interdependence of\nphenomena greatly increases the improbability of some legends which it\ndoes not actually disprove. Thus, when men believed the sun to be simply a\nlamp revolving around and lighting our world, they had no great difficulty\nin believing that it was one day literally arrested in its course, to\nilluminate an army which was engaged in massacring its enemies; but the\ncase became different when it was perceived that the sun was the centre of\na vast system of worlds, which a suspension of the earth\u2019s motion must\nhave reduced to chaos, without a miracle extending through it all. Thus,\nagain, the old belief that some animals became for the first time\ncarnivorous in consequence of the sin of Adam, appeared tolerably simple\nso long as this revolution was supposed to be only a change of habits or\nof tastes; but it became more difficult of belief when it was shown to\ninvolve a change of teeth; and the difficulty was, I suppose, still\nfurther aggravated when it was proved that, every animal having digestive\norgans specially adapted to its food, these also must have been changed.\n\nIn the last place, physical science exercises a still wider influence by\ndestroying what I have called the centre ideas out of which countless\nparticular theories were evolved, of which they were the natural\nexpression, and upon which their permanence depends. Proving that our\nworld is not the centre of the universe, but is a simple planet, revolving\nwith many others around a common sun; proving that the disturbances and\nsufferings of the world do not result from an event which occurred but\n6,000 years ago; that long before that period the earth was dislocated by\nthe most fearful convulsions; that countless generations of sentient\nanimals, and also, as recent discoveries appear conclusively to show, of\nmen, not only lived but died; proving, by an immense accumulation of\nevidence, that the notion of a universe governed by isolated acts of\nspecial intervention is untrue\u2014physical science had given new directions\nto the currents of the imagination, supplied the judgment with new\nmeasures of probability, and thus affected the whole circle of our\nbeliefs.\n\nWith most men, however, the transition is as yet but imperfectly\naccomplished, and that part of physical nature which science has hitherto\nfailed to explain is regarded as a sphere of special interposition. Thus,\nmultitudes who recognise the fact that the celestial phenomena are subject\nto inflexible law, imagine that the dispensation of rain is in some sense\nthe result of arbitrary interpositions, determined by the conduct of\nmankind. Near the equator, it is true, it is tolerably constant and\ncapable of prediction; but in proportion as we recede from the equator,\nthe rainfall becomes more variable, and consequently, in the eyes of some,\nsupernatural, and although no scientific man has the faintest doubt that\nit is governed by laws as inflexible as those which determine the motions\nof the planets, yet because, owing to the great complexity of the\ndetermining causes, we are unable fully to explain them, it is still\ncustomary to speak of \u201cplagues of rain and water\u201d sent on account of our\nsins, and of \u201cscarcity and dearth, which we most justly suffer for our\niniquity.\u201d Corresponding language is employed about the forms of disease\nand death which science has but imperfectly explained. If men are employed\nin some profession which compels them to inhale steel filings or noxious\nvapours, or if they live in a pestilential marsh, the diseases that result\nfrom these conditions are not regarded as a judgment or a discipline, for\nthe natural cause is obvious and decisive. But if the conditions that\nproduced the disease are very subtle and very complicated; if physicians\nare incapable of tracing with certainty its nature or its effects; if,\nabove all, it assumes the character of an epidemic, it is continually\ntreated as a Divine judgment. The presumption against this view arises not\nonly from the fact that, in exact proportion as medical science advances,\ndiseases are proved to be the necessary consequence of physical\nconditions, but also from many characteristics of unexplained disease\nwhich unequivocally prove it to be natural. Thus, cholera, which is\nfrequently treated according to the theological method, varies with the\nconditions of temperature, is engendered by particular forms of diet,\nfollows the course of rivers, yields in some measure to medical treatment,\ncan be aggravated or mitigated by courses of conduct that have no relation\nto vice or virtue, takes its victims indiscriminately from all grades of\nmorals or opinion. Usually, when definite causes are assigned for a\nsupposed judgment, they lead to consequences of the most grotesque\nabsurdity. Thus, when a deadly and mysterious disease fell upon the cattle\nof England, some divines, not content with treating it as a judgment,\nproceeded to trace it to certain popular writings containing what were\ndeemed heterodox opinions about the Pentateuch, or about the eternity of\npunishment. It may be true that the disease was imported from a country\nwhere such speculations are unknown; that the authors objected to had no\ncattle; that the farmers, who chiefly suffered by the disease, were for\nthe most part absolutely unconscious of the existence of these books, and\nif they knew them would have indignantly repudiated them; that the town\npopulations, who chiefly read them, were only affected indirectly by a\nrise in the price of food, which falls with perfect impartiality upon the\northodox and upon the heterodox; that particular counties were peculiarly\nsufferers, without being at all conspicuous for their scepticism; that\nsimilar writings appeared in former periods, without cattle being in any\nrespect the worse; and that, at the very period at which the plague was\nraging, other countries, in which far more audacious speculations were\nrife, enjoyed an absolute immunity. In the face of all these consequences,\nthe theory has been confidently urged and warmly applauded.\n\nIt is not, I think, sufficiently observed how large a proportion of such\nquestions are capable of a strictly inductive method of discussion. If it\nis said that plagues or pestilences are sent as a punishment of error or\nof vice, the assertion must be tested by a comprehensive examination of\nthe history of plagues on the one hand, and of periods of great vice and\nheterodoxy on the other. If it be said that an influence more powerful\nthan any military agency directs the course of battles, the action of this\nforce must be detected as we would detect electricity, or any other force,\nby experiment. If the attribute of infallibility be ascribed to a\nparticular Church, an inductive reasoner will not be content with\nenquiring how far an infallible Church would be a desirable thing, or how\nfar certain ancient words may be construed as a prediction of its\nappearance; he will examine, by a wide and careful survey of\necclesiastical history, whether this Church has actually been immutable\nand consistent in its teaching; whether it has never been affected by the\nignorance or the passion of the age; whether its influence has uniformly\nbeen exerted on the side which proved to be true; whether it has never\nsupported by its authority scientific views which were afterwards\ndemonstrated to be false, or countenanced and consolidated popular errors,\nor thrown obstacles in the path of those who were afterwards recognised as\nthe enlighteners of mankind. If ecclesiastical deliberations are said to\nbe specially inspired or directed by an illuminating and supernatural\npower, we should examine whether the councils and convocations of\nclergymen exhibit a degree and harmony of wisdom that cannot reasonably be\naccounted for by the play of our unassisted faculties. If institutions are\nsaid to owe their growth to special supernatural agencies, distinct from\nthe ordinary system of natural laws, we must examine whether their courses\nare so striking and so peculiar that natural laws fail to explain them.\nWhenever, as in the case of a battle, very many influences concur to the\nresult, it will frequently happen that that result will baffle our\npredictions. It will also happen that strange coincidences, such as the\nfrequent recurrence of the same number in a game of chance, will occur.\nBut there are limits to these variations from what we regard as probable.\nIf, in throwing the dice, we uniformly attained the same number, or if in\nwar the army which was most destitute of all military advantages was\nuniformly victorious, we should readily infer that some special cause was\noperating to produce the result. We must remember, too, that in every\ngreat historical crisis the prevalence of either side will bring with it a\nlong train of consequences, and that we only see one side of the picture.\nIf Hannibal, after his victory at Cann\u00e6, had captured and burnt Rome, the\nvast series of results that have followed from the ascendancy of the Roman\nEmpire would never have taken place, but the supremacy of a maritime,\ncommercial, and comparatively pacific power would have produced an\nentirely different series, which would have formed the basis and been the\nessential condition of all the subsequent progress; a civilisation, the\ntype and character of which it is now impossible to conjecture, would have\narisen, and its theologians would probably have regarded the career of\nHannibal as one of the most manifest instances of special interposition on\nrecord.\n\nIf we would form sound opinions on these matters, we must take a very wide\nand impartial survey of the phenomena of history. We must examine whether\nevents have tended in a given direction with a uniformity or a persistence\nthat is not naturally explicable. We must examine not only the facts that\ncorroborate our theory, but also those which oppose it.\n\nThat such a method is not ordinarily adopted must be manifest to all. As\nBacon said, men \u201cmark the hits, but not the misses;\u201d they collect\nindustriously the examples in which many, and sometimes improbable,\ncircumstances have converged to a result which they consider good, and\nthey simply leave out of their consideration the circumstances that tend\nin the opposite direction. They expatiate with triumph upon the careers of\nemperors who have been the unconscious pioneers or agents in some great\nmovement of human progress, but they do not dwell upon those whose genius\nwas expended in a hopeless resistance, or upon those who, like Bajazet or\nTamerlane, having inflicted incalculable evils upon mankind, passed away,\nleaving no enduring fruit behind them. A hundred missionaries start upon\nan enterprise, the success of which appears exceedingly improbable.\nNinety-nine perish and are forgotten. One missionary succeeds, and his\nsuccess is attributed to supernatural interference, because the\nprobabilities were so greatly against him. It is observed that a long\ntrain of political or military events ensured the triumph of Protestantism\nin certain nations and periods. It is forgotten that another train of\nevents destroyed the same faith in other lands, and paralysed the efforts\nof its noblest martyrs. We are told of showers of rain that followed\npublic prayer; but we are not told how often prayers for rain proved\nabortive, or how much longer than usual the dry weather had already\ncontinued when they were offered.(654) As the old philosopher observed,\nthe votive tablets of those who escaped are suspended in the temple, while\nthose who were shipwrecked are forgotten.\n\nUnfortunately, these inconsistencies do not arise simply from intellectual\ncauses. A feeling which was intended to be religious, but which was in\ntruth deeply the reverse, once led men to shrink from examining the causes\nof some of the more terrible of physical phenomena, because it was thought\nthat these should be deemed special instances of Divine interference, and\nshould, therefore, be regarded as too sacred for investigation.(655) In\nthe world of physical science this mode of thought has almost vanished,\nbut a corresponding sentiment may be often detected in the common\njudgments of history. Very many well-meaning men\u2014censuring the pursuit of\ntruth in the name of the God of Truth\u2014while they regard it as commendable\nand religious to collect facts illustrating or corroborating the\ntheological theory of life, consider it irreverent and wrong to apply to\nthose facts, and to that theory, the ordinary severity of inductive\nreasoning.\n\nWhat I have written is not in any degree inconsistent with the belief\nthat, by the dispensation of Providence, moral causes have a natural and\noften overwhelming influence upon happiness and upon success, nor yet with\nthe belief that our moral nature enters into a very real, constant, and\nimmediate contact with a higher power. Nor does it at all disprove the\npossibility of Divine interference with the order even of physical nature.\nA world governed by special acts of intervention, such as that which\nmedi\u00e6val theologians imagined, is perfectly conceivable, though it is\nprobable that most impartial enquirers will convince themselves that this\nis not the system of the planet we inhabit; and if any instance of such\ninterference be sufficiently attested, it should not be rejected as\nintrinsically impossible. It is, however, the fundamental error of most\nwriters on miracles, that they confine their attention to two points\u2014the\npossibility of the fact, and the nature of the evidence. There is a third\nelement, which in these questions is of capital importance: the\npredisposition of men in certain stages of society towards the miraculous,\nwhich is so strong that miraculous stories are then invariably circulated\nand credited, and which makes an amount of evidence that would be quite\nsufficient to establish a natural fact, altogether inadequate to establish\na supernatural one. The positions for which I have been contending are\nthat a perpetual interference of the Deity with the natural course of\nevents is the earliest and simplest notion of miracles, and that this\nnotion, which is implied in so many systems of belief, arose in part from\nan ignorance of the laws of nature, and in part also from an incapacity\nfor inductive reasoning, which led men merely to collect facts coinciding\nwith their preconceived opinions, without attending to those that were\ninconsistent with them. By this method there is no superstition that could\nnot be defended. Volumes have been written giving perfectly authentic\nhistories of wars, famines, and pestilences that followed the appearance\nof comets. There is not an omen, not a prognostic, however childish, that\nhas not, in the infinite variety of events, been occasionally verified,\nand to minds that are under the influence of a superstitious imagination\nthese occasional verifications more than outweigh all the instances of\nerror. Simple knowledge is wholly insufficient to correct the disease. No\none is so firmly convinced of the reality of lucky and unlucky days, and\nof supernatural portents, as the sailor, who has spent his life in\nwatching the deep, and has learnt to read with almost unerring skill the\npromise of the clouds. No one is more persuaded of the superstitions about\nfortune than the habitual gambler. Sooner than abandon his theory, there\nis no extravagance of hypothesis to which the superstitious man will not\nresort. The ancients were convinced that dreams were usually supernatural.\nIf the dream was verified, this was plainly a prophecy. If the event was\nthe exact opposite of what the dream foreshadowed, the latter was still\nsupernatural, for it was a recognised principle that dreams should\nsometimes be interpreted by contraries. If the dream bore no relation to\nsubsequent events, unless it were transformed into a fantastic allegory,\nit was still supernatural, for allegory was one of the most ordinary forms\nof revelation. If no ingenuity of interpretation could find a prophetic\nmeaning in a dream, its supernatural character was even then not\nnecessarily destroyed; for Homer said there was a special portal through\nwhich deceptive visions passed into the mind, and the Fathers declared\nthat it was one of the occupations of the d\u00e6mons to perplex and bewilder\nus with unmeaning dreams.\n\nTo estimate aright the force of the predisposition to the miraculous\nshould be one of the first tasks of the enquirer into its reality; and no\none, I think, can examine the subject with impartiality without arriving\nat the conclusion that in many periods of history it has been so strong as\nto accumulate around pure delusions an amount of evidence far greater than\nwould be sufficient to establish even improbable natural facts. Through\nthe entire duration of Pagan Rome, it was regarded as an unquestionable\ntruth, established by the most ample experience, that prodigies of various\nkinds announced every memorable event, and that sacrifices had the power\nof mitigating or arresting calamity. In the Republic, the Senate itself\nofficially verified and explained the prodigies.(656) In the Empire there\nis not an historian, from Tacitus down to the meanest writer in the\nAugustan history, who was not convinced that numerous prodigies\nforeshadowed the accession and death of every sovereign, and every great\ncatastrophe that fell upon the people. Cicero could say with truth that\nthere was not a single nation of antiquity, from the polished Greek to the\nrudest savage, which did not admit the existence of a real art enabling\nmen to foretell the future, and that the splendid temples of the oracles,\nwhich for so many centuries commanded the reverence of mankind,\nsufficiently attested the intensity of the belief.(657) The reality of the\nwitch miracles was established by a critical tribunal, which, however\nimperfect, was at least the most searching then existing in the world, by\nthe judicial decisions of the law courts of every European country,\nsupported by the unanimous voice of public opinion, and corroborated by\nthe investigation of some of the ablest men during several centuries. The\nbelief that the king\u2019s touch can cure scrofula flourished in the most\nbrilliant periods of English history.(658) It was unshaken by the most\nnumerous and public experiments. It was asserted by the privy council, by\nthe bishops of two religions, by the general voice of the clergy in the\npalmiest days of the English Church, by the University of Oxford, and by\nthe enthusiastic assent of the people. It survived the ages of the\nReformation, of Bacon, of Milton, and of Hobbes. It was by no means\nextinct in the age of Locke, and would probably have lasted still longer,\nhad not the change of dynasty at the Revolution assisted the tardy\nscepticism.(659) Yet there is now scarcely an educated man who will defend\nthese miracles. Considered abstractedly, indeed, it is perfectly\nconceivable that Providence might have announced coming events by\nprodigies, or imparted to some one a miraculous power, or permitted evil\nspirits to exist among mankind and assist them in their enterprises. The\nevidence establishing these miracles is cumulative, and it is immeasurably\ngreater than the evidence of many natural facts, such as the earthquakes\nat Antioch, which no one would dream of questioning. We disbelieve the\nmiracles, because an overwhelming experience proves that in certain\nintellectual conditions, and under the influence of certain errors which\nwe are enabled to trace, superstitions of this order invariably appear and\nflourish, and that, when these intellectual conditions have passed, the\nprodigies as invariably cease, and the whole fabric of superstition melts\nsilently away.\n\nIt is extremely difficult for an ordinary man, who is little conversant\nwith the writings of the past, and who unconsciously transfers to other\nages the critical spirit of his own, to realise the fact that histories of\nthe most grotesquely extravagant nature could, during the space of many\ncenturies, be continually propounded without either provoking the smallest\nquestion or possessing the smallest truth. We may, however, understand\nsomething of this credulity when we remember the diversion of the ancient\nmind from physical science to speculative philosophy; the want of the many\nchecks upon error which printing affords; the complete absence of that\nhabit of cautious, experimental research which Bacon and his\ncontemporaries infused into modern philosophy; and, in Christian times,\nthe theological notion that the spirit of belief is a virtue, and the\nspirit of scepticism a sin. We must remember, too, that before men had\nfound the key to the motions of the heavenly bodies\u2014before the false\ntheory of the vortices and the true theory of gravitation\u2014when the\nmultitude of apparently capricious phenomena was very great, the notion\nthat the world was governed by distinct and isolated influences was that\nwhich appeared most probable even to the most rational intellect. In such\na condition of knowledge\u2014which was that of the most enlightened days of\nthe Roman Empire\u2014the hypothesis of universal law was justly regarded as a\nrash and premature generalisation. Every enquirer was confronted with\ninnumerable phenomena that were deemed plainly miraculous. When Lucretius\nsought to banish the supernatural from the universe, he was compelled to\nemploy much ingenuity in endeavouring to explain, by a natural law, why a\nmiraculous fountain near the temple of Jupiter Ammon was hot by night and\ncold by day, and why the temperature of wells was higher in winter than in\nsummer.(660) Eclipses were supposed by the populace to foreshadow\ncalamity; but the Roman soldiers believed that by beating drums and\ncymbals they could cause the moon\u2019s disc to regain its brightness.(661) In\nobedience to dreams, the great Emperor Augustus went begging money through\nthe streets of Rome,(662) and the historian who records the act himself\nwrote to Pliny, entreating the postponement of a trial.(663) The stroke of\nthe lightning was an augury,(664) and its menace was directed especially\nagainst the great, who cowered in abject terror during a thunder-storm.\nAugustus used to guard himself against thunder by wearing the skin of a\nsea-calf.(665) Tiberius, who professed to be a complete freethinker, had\ngreater faith in laurel leaves.(666) Caligula was accustomed during a\nthunderstorm to creep beneath his bed.(667) During the games in honour of\nJulius C\u00e6sar, a comet appearing for seven days in the sky, the people\nbelieved it to be the soul of the dead,(668) and a temple was erected in\nits honour.(669) Sometimes we find this credulity broken by curious\ninconsistencies of belief, or semi-rationalistic explanations. Livy, who\nrelates with perfect faith innumerable prodigies, has observed,\nnevertheless, that the more prodigies are believed, the more they are\nannounced.(670) Those who admitted most fully the reality of the oracles\noccasionally represented them as natural contending that a prophetic\nfaculty was innate in all men, though dormant in most; that it might be\nquickened into action by sleep, by a pure and ascetic life, or in the\nprostration that precedes death, or in the delirium produced by certain\nvapours; and that the gradual enfeebling of the last was the cause of the\ncessation of the oracles.(671) Earthquakes were believed to result from\nsupernatural interpositions, and to call for expiatory sacrifices, but at\nthe same time they had direct natural antecedents. The Greeks believed\nthat they were caused by subterranean waters, and they accordingly\nsacrificed to Poseidon. The Romans were uncertain as to their physical\nantecedents, and therefore inscribed no name on the altar of\nexpiation.(672) Pythagoras is said to have attributed them to the\nstrugglings of the dead.(673) Pliny, after a long discussion, decided that\nthey were produced by air forcing itself through fissures of the earth,\nbut he immediately proceeds to assert that they are invariably the\nprecursors of calamity.(674) The same writer, having recounted the triumph\nof astronomers in predicting and explaining eclipses, bursts into an\neloquent apostrophe to those great men who had thus reclaimed man from the\ndominion of superstition, and in high and enthusiastic terms urges them to\npursue still further their labour in breaking the thraldom of\nignorance.(675) A few chapters later he professes his unhesitating belief\nin the ominous character of comets.(676) The notions, too, of magic and\nastrology, were detached from all theological belief, and might be found\namong many who were absolute atheists.(677)\n\nThese few examples will be sufficient to show how fully the Roman soil was\nprepared for the reception of miraculous histories, even after the\nwritings of Cicero and Seneca, in the brilliant days of Augustus and the\nAntonines. The feebleness of the uncultivated mind, which cannot rise\nabove material conceptions, had indeed passed away, the legends of the\npopular theology had lost all power over the educated, but at the same\ntime an absolute ignorance of physical science and of inductive reasoning\nremained. The facility of belief that was manifested by some of the most\neminent men, even on matters that were not deemed supernatural, can only\nbe realised by those who have an intimate acquaintance with their works.\nThus, to give but a few examples, that great naturalist whom I have so\noften cited tells us with the utmost gravity how the fiercest lion\ntrembles at the crowing of a cock;(678) how elephants celebrate their\nreligious ceremonies;(679) how the stag draws serpents by its breath from\ntheir holes, and then tramples them to death;(680) how the salamander is\nso deadly that the food cooked in water, or the fruit grown on trees it\nhas touched, are fatal to man;(681) how, when a ship is flying before so\nfierce a tempest that no anchors or chains can hold it, if only the remora\nor echinus fastens on its keel, it is arrested in its course, and remains\nmotionless and rooted among the waves.(682) On matters that would appear\nthe most easily verified, he is equally confident. Thus, the human saliva,\nhe assures us, has many mysterious properties. If a man, especially when\nfasting, spits into the throat of a serpent, it is said that the animal\nspeedily dies.(683) It is certain that to anoint the eyes with spittle is\na sovereign remedy against ophthalmia.(684) If a pugilist, having struck\nhis adversary, spits into his own hand, the pain he caused instantly\nceases. If he spits into his hand before striking, the blow is the more\nsevere.(685) Aristotle, the greatest naturalist of Greece, had observed\nthat it was a curious fact that on the sea-shore no animal ever dies\nexcept during the ebbing of the tide. Several centuries later, Pliny, the\ngreatest naturalist of an empire that was washed by many tidal seas,\ndirected his attention to this statement. He declared that, after careful\nobservations which had been made in Gaul, it had been found to be\ninaccurate, for what Aristotle stated of all animals was in fact only true\nof man.(686) It was in 1727 and the two following years, that scientific\nobservations made at Rochefort and at Brest finally dissipated the\ndelusion.(687)\n\nVolumes might be filled with illustrations of how readily, in the most\nenlightened days of the Roman Empire, strange, and especially miraculous,\ntales were believed, even under circumstances that would appear to give\nevery facility for the detection of the imposture. In the field of the\nsupernatural, however, it should be remembered that a movement, which I\nhave traced in the last chapter, had produced a very exceptional amount of\ncredulity during the century and a half that preceded the conversion of\nConstantine. Neither the writings of Cicero and Seneca, nor even those of\nPliny and Plutarch, can be regarded as fair samples of the belief of the\neducated. The Epicurean philosophy which rejected, the Academic philosophy\nwhich doubted, and the Stoic philosophy which simplified and sublimated\nsuperstition, had alike disappeared. The \u201cMeditations\u201d of Marcus Aurelius\nclosed the period of Stoical influence, and the \u201cDialogues\u201d of Lucian were\nthe last solitary protest of expiring scepticism.(688) The aim of the\nphilosophy of Cicero had been to ascertain truth by the free exercise of\nthe critical powers. The aim of the Pythagorean philosophy was to attain\nthe state of ecstasy, and to purify the mind by religious rites. Every\nphilosopher soon plunged into magical practices, and was encircled, in the\neyes of his disciples, with a halo of legend. Apollonius of Tyana, whom\nthe Pagans opposed to Christ, had raised the dead, healed the sick, cast\nout devils, freed a young man from a lamia or vampire with whom he was\nenamoured, prophesied, seen in one country events that were occurring in\nanother, and filled the world with the fame of his miracles and of his\nsanctity.(689) A similar power, notwithstanding his own disclaimer, was\npopularly attributed to the Platonist Apuleius.(690) Lucian has left us a\ndetailed account of the impostures by which the philosopher Alexander\nendeavoured to acquire the fame of a miracle-worker.(691) When a magician\nplotted against Plotinus, his spells recoiled miraculously against\nhimself; and when an Egyptian priest endeavoured by incantations to evoke\nthe guardian d\u00e6mon of the philosopher, instead of a d\u00e6mon the temple of\nIsis was irradiated by the presence of a god.(692) Porphyry was said to\nhave expelled an evil d\u00e6mon from a bath.(693) It was reported among his\ndisciples that when Iamblichus prayed he was raised (like the saints of\nanother creed) ten cubits from the ground, and that his body and his dress\nassumed a golden hue.(694) It was well known that he had at Gadara drawn\nforth from the waters of two fountains their guardian spirits, and\nexhibited them in bodily form to his disciples.(695) A woman named\nSospitra had been visited by two spirits under the form of aged Chaldeans,\nand had been endowed with a transcendent beauty and with a superhuman\nknowledge. Raised above all human frailties, save only love and death, she\nwas able to see at once the deeds which were done in every land, and the\npeople, dazzled by her beauty and her wisdom, ascribed to her a share of\nthe omnipresence of the Deity.(696)\n\nChristianity floated into the Roman Empire on the wave of credulity that\nbrought with it this long train of Oriental superstitions and legends. In\nits moral aspect it was broadly distinguished from the systems around it,\nbut its miracles were accepted by both friend and foe as the ordinary\naccompaniments of religious teaching. The Jews, in the eyes of the Pagans,\nhad long been proverbial for their credulity,(697) and the Christians\ninherited a double measure of their reputation. Nor is it possible to deny\nthat in the matter of the miraculous the reputation was deserved. Among\nthe Pagans the theory of Euhemerus, who believed the gods to be but\ndeified men, had been the stronghold of the Sceptics, while the Platonic\nnotion of d\u00e6mons was adopted by the more believing philosophers. The\nChristian teachers combined both theories, maintaining that deceased kings\nhad originally supplied the names of the deities, but that malevolent\nd\u00e6mons had taken their places; and without a single exception the Fathers\nmaintained the reality of the Pagan miracles as fully as their own.(698)\nThe oracles, as we have seen, had been ridiculed and rejected by numbers\nof the philosophers, but the Christians unanimously admitted their\nreality. They appealed to a long series of oracles as predictions of their\nfaith; and there is, I believe, no example of the denial of their\nsupernatural character in the Christian Church till 1696, when a Dutch\nAnabaptist minister named Van Dale, in a remarkable book,(699) which was\nabridged and translated by Fontenelle, asserted, in opposition to the\nunanimous voice of ecclesiastical authority, that they were simple\nimpostures\u2014a theory which is now almost universally accepted. To suppose\nthat men who held these opinions were capable, in the second or third\ncenturies, of ascertaining with any degree of just confidence whether\nmiracles had taken place in Jud\u00e6a in the first century, is grossly absurd;\nnor would the conviction of their reality have made any great impression\non their minds at a time when miracles were supposed to be so abundantly\ndiffused.\n\nIn truth, the question of the reality of the Jewish miracles must be\ncarefully distinguished from that of the conversion of the Roman Empire.\nWith the light that is furnished to us by modern investigations and habits\nof thought, we weigh the testimony of the Jewish writers; but most of the\nmore judicious of modern apologists, considering the extreme credulity of\nthe Jewish people, decline to make the question simply one of evidence,\nand occupy themselves chiefly in endeavouring to show that miracles are\npossible, that those recorded in the Biblical narratives are related in\nsuch a manner, and are so interwoven with the texture of a simple and\nartless narrative, as to carry with them an internal proof of their\nreality; that they differ in kind from later miracles, and especially that\nthe character and destinies of Christianity are such as to render its\nmiraculous origin antecedently probable. But in the ages when the Roman\nEmpire was chiefly converted, all sound and discriminating historical\ninvestigation of the evidence of the early miracles was impossible, nor\nwas any large use made of those miracles as proofs of the religion. The\nrhetorician Arnobius is probably the only one of the early apologists who\ngives, among the evidences of the faith, any prominent place to the\nmiracles of Christ.(700) When evidential reasoning was employed, it was\nusually an appeal not to miracles, but to prophecy. But here again the\nopinions of the patristic age must be pronounced absolutely worthless. To\nprove that events had taken place in Jud\u00e6a, accurately corresponding with\nthe prophecies, or that the prophecies were themselves genuine, were both\ntasks far transcending the critical powers of the Roman converts. The wild\nextravagance of fantastic allegory, commonly connected with Origen, but\nwhich appears at a much earlier date in the writings of Justin Martyr and\nIren\u00e6us, had thrown the interpretation of prophecy into hopeless\nconfusion, while the deliberate and apparently perfectly unscrupulous\nforgery of a whole literature, destined to further the propagation either\nof Christianity as a whole, or of some particular class of tenets that had\narisen within its border,(701) made criticism at once pre-eminently\ndifficult and necessary. A long series of oracles were cited, predicting\nin detail the sufferings of Christ. The prophecies forged by the\nChristians, and attributed by them to the heathen Sibyls, were accepted as\ngenuine by the entire Church, and were continually appealed to as among\nthe most powerful evidences of the faith. Justin Martyr declared that it\nwas by the instigation of d\u00e6mons that it had been made a capital offence\nto read them.(702) Clement of Alexandria preserved the tradition that St.\nPaul had urged the brethren to study them.(703) Celsus designated the\nChristians Sibyllists, on account of the pertinacity with which they\ninsisted upon them.(704) Constantine the Great adduced them in a solemn\nspeech before the Council of Nice.(705) St. Augustine notices that the\nGreek word for a fish, which, containing the initial letters of the name\nand titles of Christ, had been adopted by the Early Church as its sacred\nsymbol, contains also the initial letters of some prophetic lines ascribed\nto the Sibyl of Erythra.(706) The Pagans, it is true, accused their\nopponents of having forged or interpolated these prophecies;(707) but\nthere was not a single Christian writer of the patristic period who\ndisputed their authority, and there were very few even of the most\nillustrious who did not appeal to them. Unanimously admitted by the Church\nof the Fathers, they were unanimously admitted during the middle ages, and\nan allusion to them passed into the most beautiful lyric of the Missal. It\nwas only at the period of the Reformation that the great but unhappy\nCastellio pointed out many passages in them which could not possibly be\ngenuine. He was followed, in the first years of the seventeenth century,\nby a Jesuit named Possevin, who observed that the Sibyls were known to\nhave lived at a later period than Moses, and that many passages in the\nSibylline books purported to have been written before Moses. Those\npassages, therefore, he said, were interpolated; and he added, with a\ncharacteristic sagacity, that they had doubtless been inserted by Satan,\nfor the purpose of throwing suspicion upon the books.(708) It was in 1649\nthat a French Protestant minister, named Blondel, ventured for the first\ntime in the Christian Church to denounce these writings as deliberate and\nclumsy forgeries, and after much angry controversy his sentiment has\nacquired an almost undisputed ascendancy in criticism.\n\nBut although the opinion of the Roman converts was extremely worthless,\nwhen dealing with past history or with literary criticism, there was one\nbranch of miracles concerning which their position was somewhat different.\nContemporary miracles, often of the most extraordinary character, but\nusually of the nature of visions, exorcisms, or healing the sick, were\nfrom the time of Justin Martyr uniformly represented by the Fathers as\nexisting among them,(709) and they continue steadily along the path of\nhistory, till in the pages of Evagrius and Theodoret, in the Lives of\nHilarion and Paul, by St. Jerome, of Antony, by St. Athanasius, and of\nGregory Thaumaturgus, by his namesake of Nyssa, and in the Dialogues of\nSt. Gregory the Great, they attain as grotesque an extravagance as the\nwildest medi\u00e6val legends. Few things are more striking than the assertions\nhazarded on this matter by some of the ablest of the Fathers. Thus, St.\nIren\u00e6us assures us that all Christians possessed the power of working\nmiracles; that they prophesied, cast out devils, healed the sick, and\nsometimes even raised the dead; that some who had been thus resuscitated\nlived for many years among them, and that it would be impossible to reckon\nthe wonderful acts that were daily performed.(710) St. Epiphanius tells us\nthat some rivers and fountains were annually transformed into wine, in\nattestation of the miracle of Cana; and he adds that he had himself drunk\nof one of these fountains, and his brethren of another.(711) St. Augustine\nnotices that miracles were less frequent and less widely known than\nformerly, but that many still occurred, and some of them he had himself\nwitnessed. Whenever a miracle was reported, he ordered that a special\nexamination into its circumstances should be made, and that the\ndepositions of the witnesses should be read publicly to the people. He\ntells us, besides many other miracles, that Gamaliel in a dream revealed\nto a priest named Lucianus the place where the bones of St. Stephen were\nburied; that those bones, being thus discovered, were brought to Hippo,\nthe diocese of which St. Augustine was bishop; that they raised five dead\npersons to life; and that, although only a portion of the miraculous cures\nthey effected had been registered, the certificates drawn up in two years\nin the diocese, and by the orders of the saint, were nearly seventy. In\nthe adjoining diocese of Calama they were incomparably more numerous.(712)\nIn the height of the great conflict between St. Ambrose and the Arian\nEmpress Justina, the saint declared that it had been revealed to him by an\nirresistible presentiment\u2014or, as St. Augustine, who was present on the\noccasion, says, in a dream\u2014that relics were buried in a spot which he\nindicated. The earth being removed, a tomb was found filled with blood,\nand containing two gigantic skeletons, with their heads severed from their\nbodies, which were pronounced to be those of St. Gervasius and St.\nProtasius, two martyrs of remarkable physical dimensions, who were said to\nhave suffered about 300 years before. To prove that they were genuine\nrelics, the bones were brought in contact with a blind man, who was\nrestored to sight, and with demoniacs, who were cured; the d\u00e6mons,\nhowever, in the first place, acknowledging that the relics were genuine;\nthat St. Ambrose was the deadly enemy of the powers of hell; that the\nTrinitarian doctrine was true; and that those who rejected it would\ninfallibly be damned. The next day St. Ambrose delivered an invective\nagainst all who questioned the miracle. St. Augustine recorded it in his\nworks, and spread the worship of the saints through Africa. The transport\nof enthusiasm with which the miracles were greeted at Milan enabled St.\nAmbrose to overcome every obstacle; but the Arians treated them with a\nderisive incredulity, and declared that the pretended demoniacs had been\nbribed by the saint.(713)\n\nStatements of this kind, which are selected from very many that are\nequally positive, though not equally precise, suggest veins of thought of\nobvious interest and importance. We are now, however, only concerned with\nthe fact, that, with the exception of one or two isolated miracles, such\nas the last I have noticed, and of one class of miracles which I shall\nproceed to describe, these prodigies, whether true or false, were wrought\nfor the exclusive edification of confirmed believers. The exceptional\nmiracles were those of exorcism, which occupied a very singular position\nin the early Church. The belief that certain diseases were inflicted by\nDivine agency was familiar to the ancients, but among the early Greeks the\nnotion of diabolical possession appears to have been unknown. A d\u00e6mon, in\nthe philosophy of Plato, though inferior to a deity, was not an evil\nspirit, and it is extremely doubtful whether the existence of evil d\u00e6mons\nwas known either to the Greeks or Romans till about the time of the advent\nof Christ.(714) The belief was introduced with the Oriental superstitions\nwhich then poured into Rome, and it brought in its train the notions of\npossession and exorcism. The Jews, who in their own country appear to have\nregarded it as a most ordinary occurrence to meet men walking about\nvisibly possessed by devils, and who professed to have learnt from Solomon\nthe means of expelling them, soon became the principal exorcists,\naccomplishing their feats partly by adjuration, and partly by means of a\ncertain miraculous root named Baaras. Josephus assures us that he had\nhimself, in the reign of Vespasian, seen a Jew named Eleazar drawing by\nthese means a d\u00e6mon through the nostrils of a possessed person, who fell\nto the ground on the accomplishment of the miracle; while, upon the\ncommand of the magician, the devil, to prove that it had really left his\nvictim, threw down a cup of water which had been placed at a\ndistance.(715) The growth of Neoplatonism and kindred philosophies greatly\nstrengthened the belief, and some of the later philosophers, as well as\nmany religious charlatans, practised exorcism. But, of all classes, the\nChristians became in this respect the most famous. From the time of Justin\nMartyr, for about two centuries, there is, I believe, not a single\nChristian writer who does not solemnly and explicitly assert the reality\nand frequent employment of this power;(716) and although, after the\nCouncil of Laodicea, the instances became less numerous, they by no means\nceased. The Christians fully recognised the supernatural power possessed\nby the Jewish and Gentile exorcists, but they claimed to be in many\nrespects their superiors. By the simple sign of the cross, or by repeating\nthe name of their Master, they professed to be able to cast out devils\nwhich had resisted all the enchantments of Pagan exorcists, to silence the\noracles, to compel the d\u00e6mons to confess the truth of the Christian faith.\nSometimes their power extended still further. D\u00e6mons, we are told, were\naccustomed to enter into animals, and these also were expelled by the\nChristian adjuration. St. Jerome, in his \u201cLife of St. Hilarion,\u201d has given\nus a graphic account of the courage with which that saint confronted, and\nthe success with which he relieved, a possessed camel.(717) In the reign\nof Julian, the very bones of the martyr Babylas were sufficient to silence\nthe oracle of Daphne; and when, amid the triumphant chants of the\nChristians, the relics, by the command of Julian, were removed, the\nlightning descended from heaven and consumed the temple.(718) St. Gregory\nThaumaturgus having expelled the d\u00e6mons from an idol temple, the priest,\nfinding his means of subsistence destroyed, came to the saint, imploring\nhim to permit the oracles to be renewed. St. Gregory, who was then on his\njourney, wrote a note containing the words \u201cSatan, return,\u201d which was\nimmediately obeyed, and the priest, awe-struck by the miracle, was\nconverted to Christianity.(719) Tertullian, writing to the Pagans in a\ntime of persecution, in language of the most deliberate earnestness,\nchallenges his opponents to bring forth any person who is possessed by a\nd\u00e6mon or any of those virgins or prophets who are supposed to be inspired\nby a divinity. He asserts that, in reply to the interrogation of any\nChristian, the d\u00e6mons will be compelled to confess their diabolical\ncharacter; he invites the Pagans, if it be otherwise, to put the Christian\nimmediately to death; and he proposes this as at once the simplest and\nmost decisive demonstration of the faith.(720) Justin Martyr,(721)\nOrigen,(722) Lactantius,(723) Athanasius,(724) and Minucius Felix,(725)\nall in language equally solemn and explicit, call upon the Pagans to form\ntheir opinions from the confessions wrung from their own gods. We hear\nfrom them, that when a Christian began to pray, to make the sign of the\ncross, or to utter the name of his Master in the presence of a possessed\nor inspired person, the latter, by screams and frightful contortions,\nexhibited the torture that was inflicted, and by this torture the evil\nspirit was compelled to avow its nature. Several of the Christian writers\ndeclare that this was generally known to the Pagans. In one respect, it\nwas observed, the miracle of exorcism was especially available for\nevidential purposes; for, as d\u00e6mons would not expel d\u00e6mons, it was the\nonly miracle which was necessarily divine.\n\nIt would be curious to examine the manner in which the challenge was\nreceived by the Pagan writers; but unhappily, the writings which were\ndirected against the faith having been destroyed by the Christian\nemperors, our means of information on this point are very scanty. Some\ninformation, however, we possess, and it would appear to show that, among\nthe educated classes at least, these phenomena did not extort any great\nadmiration. The eloquent silence about diabolical possession observed by\nthe early philosophers, when discussing such questions as the nature of\nthe soul and of the spiritual world, decisively show that in their time\npossession had not assumed any great prominence or acquired any general\ncredence. Plutarch, who admitted the reality of evil d\u00e6mons, and who was\nthe most strenuous defender of the oracles, treats the whole class of\nsuperstitions to which exorcism belongs with much contempt.(726) Marcus\nAurelius, in recounting the benefits he had received from different\npersons with whom he had been connected, acknowledges his debt of\ngratitude to the philosopher Diognetus for having taught him to give no\ncredence to magicians, jugglers, and expellers of d\u00e6mons.(727) Lucian\ndeclares that every cunning juggler could make his fortune by going over\nto the Christians and preying upon their simplicity.(728) Celsus described\nthe Christians as jugglers performing their tricks among the young and the\ncredulous.(729) The most decisive evidence, however, we possess, is a law\nof Ulpian, directed, it is thought, against the Christians, which condemns\nthose \u201cwho use incantations or imprecations, or (to employ the common word\nof impostors) exorcisms.\u201d(730) Modern criticism has noted a few facts\nwhich may throw some light upon this obscure subject. It has been observed\nthat the symptoms of possession were for the most part identical with\nthose of lunacy or epilepsy; that it is quite possible that the excitement\nof an imposing religious ceremony might produce or suspend the disorder;\nthat leading questions might in these cases be followed by the desired\nanswers; and that some passages from the Fathers show that the exorcisms\nwere not always successful, or the cures always permanent. It has been\nobserved, too, that at first the power of exorcism was open to all\nChristians without restraint; that this licence, in an age when religious\njugglers were very common, and in a Church whose members were very\ncredulous, gave great facilities to impostors; that when the Laodicean\nCouncil, in the fourth century, forbade any one to exorcise, except those\nwho were duly authorised by the bishop, these miracles speedily declined;\nand that, in the very beginning of the fifth century, a physician named\nPosidonius denied the existence of possession.(731)\n\nTo sum up this whole subject, we may conclude that what is called the\nevidential system had no prominent place in effecting the conversion of\nthe Roman Empire. Historical criticisms were far too imperfect to make\nappeals to the miracles of former days of any value, and the notion of the\nwide diffusion of miraculous or magical powers, as well as the generally\nprivate character of the alleged miracles of the Patristic age, made\ncontemporary wonders very unimpressive. The prophecies attributed to the\nSibyls, and the practice of exorcism, had, however, a certain weight; for\nthe first were connected with a religious authority, long and deeply\nrevered at Rome, and the second had been forced by several circumstances\ninto great prominence. But the effect even of these may be safely regarded\nas altogether subsidiary, and the main causes of the conversion must be\nlooked for in another and a wider sphere.\n\nThese causes were the general tendencies of the age. They are to be found\nin that vast movement of mingled scepticism and credulity, in that\namalgamation or dissolution of many creeds, in that profound\ntransformation of habits, of feelings, and of ideals, which I have\nattempted to paint in the last chapter. Under circumstances more\nfavourable to religious proselytism than the world had ever before known,\nwith the path cleared by a long course of destructive criticism, the\nreligions and philosophies of mankind were struggling for the mastery in\nthat great metropolis where all were amply represented, and in which alone\nthe destinies of the world could be decided. Among the educated a frigid\nStoicism, teaching a majestic but unattainable grandeur, and scorning the\nsupport of the affections, the hope of another world, and the consolations\nof worship, had for a time been in the ascendant, and it only terminated\nits noble and most fruitful career when it had become manifestly\ninadequate to the religious wants of the age. Among other classes,\nreligion after religion ran its conquering course. The Jews, although a\nnumber of causes had made them the most hated of all the Roman subjects,\nand although their religion, from its intensely national character, seemed\npeculiarly unsuited for proselytism, had yet, by the force of their\nmonotheism, their charity, and their exorcisms, spread the creed of Moses\nfar and wide. The Empress Popp\u00e6a is said to have been a proselyte. The\npassion of Roman women for Jewish rites was one of the complaints of\nJuvenal. The Sabbath and the Jewish fasts became familiar facts in all the\ngreat cities, and the antiquity of the Jewish law the subject of eager\ndiscussion. Other Oriental religions were even more successful. The\nworship of Mithra, and, above all, of the Egyptian divinities, attracted\ntheir thousands, and during more than three centuries the Roman writings\nare crowded with allusions to their progress. The mysteries of the Bona\nDea,(732) the solemn worship of Isis, the expiatory rites that cleansed\nthe guilty soul, excited a very delirium of enthusiasm. Juvenal describes\nthe Roman women, at the dawn of the winter day, breaking the ice of the\nTiber to plunge three times into its sacred stream, dragging themselves on\nbleeding knees in penance around the field of Tarquin, offering to\nundertake pilgrimages to Egypt to seek the holy water for the shrine of\nIsis, fondly dreaming that they had heard the voice of the goddess.(733)\nApuleius has drawn a graphic picture of the solemn majesty of her\nprocessions, and the spell they cast upon the most licentious and the most\nsceptical.(734) Commodus, Caracalla, and Heliogabalus were passionately\ndevoted to them.(735) The temples of Isis and Serapis, and the statues of\nMithra, are among the last prominent works of Roman art. In all other\nforms the same credulity was manifested. The oracles that had been silent\nwere heard again; the astrologers swarmed in every city; the philosophers\nwere surrounded with an atmosphere of legend; the Pythagorean school had\nraised credulity into a system. On all sides, and to a degree unparalleled\nin history, we find men who were no longer satisfied with their old local\nreligion, thirsting for belief, passionately and restlessly seeking for a\nnew faith.\n\nIn the midst of this movement, Christianity gained its ascendancy, and we\ncan be at no loss to discover the cause of its triumph. No other religion,\nunder such circumstances, had ever combined so many distinct elements of\npower and attraction. Unlike the Jewish religion, it was bound by no local\nties, and was equally adapted for every nation and for every class. Unlike\nStoicism, it appealed in the strongest manner to the affections, and\noffered all the charm of a sympathetic worship. Unlike the Egyptian\nreligions, it united with its distinctive teaching a pure and noble system\nof ethics, and proved itself capable of realising it in action. It\nproclaimed, amid a vast movement of social and national amalgamation, the\nuniversal brotherhood of mankind. Amid the softening influence of\nphilosophy and civilisation, it taught the supreme sanctity of love. To\nthe slave, who had never before exercised so large an influence over Roman\nreligious life, it was the religion of the suffering and the oppressed. To\nthe philosopher it was at once the echo of the highest ethics of the later\nStoics, and the expansion of the best teaching of the school of Plato. To\na world thirsting for prodigy, it offered a history replete with wonders\nmore strange that those of Apollonius; while the Jew and the Chaldean\ncould scarcely rival its exorcists, and the legends of continual miracles\ncirculated among its followers. To a world deeply conscious of political\ndissolution, and prying eagerly and anxiously into the future, it\nproclaimed with a thrilling power the immediate destruction of the\nglobe\u2014the glory of all its friends, and the damnation of all its foes. To\na world that had grown very weary gazing on the cold and passionless\ngrandeur which Cato realised, and which Lucan sung, it presented an ideal\nof compassion and of love\u2014a Teacher who could weep by the sepulchre of His\nfriend, who was touched with the feeling of our infirmities. To a world,\nin fine, distracted by hostile creeds and colliding philosophies, it\ntaught its doctrines, not as a human speculation, but as a Divine\nrevelation, authenticated much less by reason than by faith. \u201cWith the\nheart man believeth unto righteousness;\u201d \u201cHe that doeth the will of my\nFather will know the doctrine, whether it be of God;\u201d \u201cUnless you believe\nyou cannot understand;\u201d \u201cA heart naturally Christian;\u201d \u201cThe heart makes\nthe theologian,\u201d are the phrases which best express the first action of\nChristianity upon the world. Like all great religions, it was more\nconcerned with modes of feeling than with modes of thought. The chief\ncause of its success was the congruity of its teaching with the spiritual\nnature of mankind. It was because it was true to the moral sentiments of\nthe age, because it represented faithfully the supreme type of excellence\nto which men were then tending, because it corresponded with their\nreligious wants, aims, and emotions, because the whole spiritual being\ncould then expand and expatiate under its influence, that it planted its\nroots so deeply in the hearts of men.\n\nTo all these elements of attraction, others of a different order must be\nadded. Christianity was not merely a moral influence, or a system of\nopinions, or an historical record, or a collection of wonder-working men;\nit was also an institution definitely, elaborately, and skilfully\norganised, possessing a weight and a stability which isolated or\nundisciplined teachers could never rival, and evoking, to a degree before\nunexampled in the world, an enthusiastic devotion to its corporate\nwelfare, analogous to that of the patriot to his country. The many forms\nof Pagan worship were pliant in their nature. Each offered certain\nadvantages or spiritual gratifications; but there was no reason why all\nshould not exist together, and participation in one by no means implied\ndisrespect to the others. But Christianity was emphatically exclusive; its\nadherent was bound to detest and abjure the faiths around him as the\nworkmanship of d\u00e6mons, and to consider himself placed in the world to\ndestroy them. Hence there sprang a stern, aggressive, and at the same time\ndisciplined enthusiasm, wholly unlike any other that had been witnessed\nupon earth. The duties of public worship; the sacraments, which were\nrepresented as the oaths of the Christian warrior; the fasts and penances\nand commemorative days, which strengthened the Church feeling; the\nintervention of religion in the most solemn epochs of life, conspired to\nsustain it. Above all, the doctrine of salvation by belief, which then for\nthe first time flashed upon the world; the persuasion, realised with all\nthe vividness of novelty, that Christianity opened out to its votaries\neternal happiness, while all beyond its pale were doomed to an eternity of\ntorture, supplied a motive of action as powerful as it is perhaps possible\nto conceive. It struck alike the coarsest chords of hope and fear, and the\nfinest chords of compassion and love. The polytheist, admitting that\nChristianity might possibly be true, was led by a mere calculation of\nprudence to embrace it, and the fervent Christian would shrink from no\nsuffering to draw those whom he loved within its pale. Nor were other\ninducements wanting. To the confessor was granted in the Church a great\nand venerable authority, such as the bishop could scarcely claim.(736) To\nthe martyr, besides the fruition of heaven, belonged the highest glory on\nearth. By winning that bloodstained crown, the meanest Christian slave\nmight gain a reputation as glorious as that of a Decius or a Regulus. His\nbody was laid to rest with a sumptuous splendour;(737) his relics,\nembalmed or shrined, were venerated with an almost idolatrous homage. The\nanniversary of his birth into another life was commemorated in the Church,\nand before the great assembly of the saints his heroic sufferings were\nrecounted.(738) How, indeed, should he not be envied? He had passed away\ninto eternal bliss. He had left upon earth an abiding name. By the\n\u201cbaptism of blood\u201d the sins of a life had been in a moment effaced.\n\nThose who are accustomed to recognise heroic enthusiasm as a normal\nproduct of certain natural conditions, will have no difficulty in\nunderstanding that, under such circumstances as I have described, a\ntranscendent courage should have been evoked. Men seemed indeed to be in\nlove with death. Believing, with St. Ignatius, that they were \u201cthe wheat\nof God,\u201d they panted for the day when they should be \u201cground by the teeth\nof wild beasts into the pure bread of Christ!\u201d Beneath this one burning\nenthusiasm all the ties of earthly love were snapt in twain. Origen, when\na boy, being restrained by force from going forth to deliver himself up to\nthe persecutors, wrote to his imprisoned father, imploring him not to let\nany thought of his family intervene to quench his resolution or to deter\nhim from sealing his faith with his blood. St. Perpetua, an only daughter,\na young mother of twenty-two, had embraced the Christian creed, confessed\nit before her judges, and declared herself ready to endure for it the\nmartyr\u2019s death. Again and again her father came to her in a paroxysm of\nagony, entreating her not to deprive him of the joy and the consolation of\nhis closing years. He appealed to her by the memory of all the tenderness\nhe had lavished upon her\u2014by her infant child\u2014by his own gray hairs, that\nwere soon to be brought down in sorrow to the grave. Forgetting in his\ndeep anguish all the dignity of a parent, he fell upon his knees before\nhis child, covered her hands with kisses, and, with tears streaming from\nhis eyes, implored her to have mercy upon him. But she was unshaken though\nnot untouched; she saw her father, frenzied with grief, dragged from\nbefore the tribunal; she saw him tearing his white beard, and lying\nprostrate and broken-hearted on the prison floor; she went forth to die\nfor a faith she loved more dearly\u2014for a faith that told her that her\nfather would be lost for ever.(739) The desire for martyrdom became at\ntimes a form of absolute madness, a kind of epidemic of suicide, and the\nleading minds of the Church found it necessary to exert all their\nauthority to prevent their followers from thrusting themselves into the\nhands of the persecutors.(740) Tertullian mentions how, in a little\nAsiatic town, the entire population once flocked to the proconsul,\ndeclaring themselves to be Christians, and imploring him to execute the\ndecree of the emperor and grant them the privilege of martyrdom. The\nbewildered functionary asked them whether, if they were so weary of life,\nthere were no precipices or ropes by which they could end their days; and\nhe put to death a small number of the suppliants, and dismissed the\nothers.(741) Two illustrious Pagan moralists and one profane Pagan\nsatirist have noticed this passion with a most unpleasing scorn. \u201cThere\nare some,\u201d said Epictetus, \u201cwhom madness, there are others, like the\nGalil\u00e6ans, whom custom, makes indifferent to death.\u201d(742) \u201cWhat mind,\u201d\nsaid Marcus Aurelius, \u201cis prepared, if need be, to go forth from the body,\nwhether it be to be extinguished, or to be dispersed, or to\nendure?\u2014prepared by deliberate reflection, and not by pure obstinacy, as\nis the custom of the Christians.\u201d(743) \u201cThese wretches,\u201d said Lucian,\nspeaking of the Christians, \u201cpersuade themselves that they are going to be\naltogether immortal, and to live for ever; wherefore they despise death,\nand many of their own accord give themselves up to be slain.\u201d(744)\n\n\u201cI send against you men who are as greedy of death as you are of\npleasures,\u201d were the words which, in after days, the Mohammedan chief\naddressed to the degenerate Christians of Syria, and which were at once\nthe presage and the explanation of his triumph. Such words might with\nequal propriety have been employed by the early Christian leaders to their\nPagan adversaries. The zeal of the Christians and of the Pagans differed\nalike in degree and in kind. When Constantine made Christianity the\nreligion of the State, it is probable that its adherents were but a\nminority in Rome. Even in the days of Theodosius the senate was still\nwedded to Paganism;(745) yet the measures of Constantine were both natural\nand necessary. The majority were without inflexible belief, without moral\nenthusiasm, without definite organisation, without any of those principles\nthat inspire the heroism either of resistance or aggression. The minority\nformed a serried phalanx, animated by every motive that could purify,\ndiscipline, and sustain their zeal. When once the Christians had acquired\na considerable position, the question of their destiny was a simple one.\nThey must either be crushed or they must reign. The failure of the\npersecution of Diocletian conducted them inevitably to the throne.\n\nIt may indeed be confidently asserted that the conversion of the Roman\nEmpire is so far from being of the nature of a miracle or suspension of\nthe ordinary principles of human nature, that there is scarcely any other\ngreat movement on record in which the causes and effects so manifestly\ncorrespond. The apparent anomalies of history are not inconsiderable, but\nthey must be sought for in other quarters. That within the narrow limits\nand scanty population of the Greek States should have arisen men who, in\nalmost every conceivable form of genius, in philosophy, in epic, dramatic\nand lyric poetry, in written and spoken eloquence, in statesmanship, in\nsculpture, in painting, and probably also in music, should have attained\nalmost or altogether the highest limits of human perfection\u2014that the creed\nof Mohammed should have preserved its pure monotheism and its freedom from\nall idolatrous tendencies, when adopted by vast populations in that\nintellectual condition in which, under all other creeds, a gross and\nmaterial worship has proved inevitable, both these are facts which we can\nonly very imperfectly explain. Considerations of climate, and still more\nof political, social, and intellectual customs and institutions, may\npalliate the first difficulty, and the attitude Mohammed assumed to art\nmay supply us with a partial explanation of the second; but I suppose\nthat, after all has been said, most persons will feel that they are in\npresence of phenomena very exceptional and astonishing. The first rise of\nChristianity in Jud\u00e6a is a subject wholly apart from this book. We are\nexamining only the subsequent movement in the Roman Empire. Of this\nmovement it may be boldly asserted that the assumption of a moral or\nintellectual miracle is utterly gratuitous. Never before was a religious\ntransformation so manifestly inevitable. No other religion ever combined\nso many forms of attraction as Christianity, both from its intrinsic\nexcellence, and from its manifest adaptation to the special wants of the\ntime. One great cause of its success was that it produced more heroic\nactions and formed more upright men than any other creed; but that it\nshould do so was precisely what might have been expected.\n\nTo these reasonings, however, those who maintain that the triumph of\nChristianity in Rome is naturally inexplicable, reply by pointing to the\npersecutions which Christianity had to encounter. As this subject is one\non which many misconceptions exist, and as it is of extreme importance on\naccount of its connection with later persecutions, it will be necessary\nbriefly to discuss it.\n\nIt is manifest that the reasons that may induce a ruler to suppress by\nforce some forms of religious worship or opinion, are very various. He may\ndo so on moral grounds, because they directly or indirectly produce\nimmorality; or on religious grounds, because he believes them to be\noffensive to the Deity; or on political grounds, because they are\ninjurious either to the State or to the Government; or on corrupt grounds,\nbecause he desires to gratify some vindictive or avaricious passion. From\nthe simple fact, therefore, of a religious persecution we cannot at once\ninfer the principles of the persecutor, but must examine in detail by\nwhich of the above motives, or by what combination of them, he has been\nactuated.\n\nNow, the persecution which has taken place at the instigation of the\nChristian priests differs in some respects broadly from all others. It has\nbeen far more sustained, systematic, and unflinching. It has been directed\nnot merely against acts of worship, but also against speculative opinions.\nIt has been supported not merely as a right, but also as a duty. It has\nbeen advocated in a whole literature of theology, by the classes that are\nespecially devout, and by the most opposing sects, and it has invariably\ndeclined in conjunction with a large portion of theological dogmas.\n\nI have elsewhere examined in great detail the history of persecutions by\nChristians, and have endeavoured to show that, while exceptional causes\nhave undoubtedly occasionally occurred, they were, in the overwhelming\nmajority of cases, simply the natural, legitimate, and inevitable\nconsequence of a certain portion of the received theology. That portion is\nthe doctrine that correct theological opinions are essential to salvation,\nand that theological error necessarily involves guilt. To these two\nopinions may be distinctly traced almost all the sufferings that Christian\npersecutors have caused, almost all the obstructions they have thrown in\nthe path of human progress; and those sufferings have been so grievous\nthat it may be reasonably questioned whether superstition has not often\nproved a greater curse than vice, and that obstruction was so\npertinacious, that the contraction of theological influence has been at\nonce the best measure, and the essential condition of intellectual\nadvance. The notion that he might himself be possibly mistaken in his\nopinions, which alone could cause a man who was thoroughly imbued with\nthese principles to shrink from persecuting, was excluded by the\ntheological virtue of faith, which, whatever else it might involve,\nimplied at least an absolute unbroken certainty, and led the devotee to\nregard all doubt, and therefore all action based upon doubt, as sin.\n\nTo this general cause of Christian persecution I have shown that two\nsubsidiary influences may be joined. A large portion of theological ethics\nwas derived from writings in which religious massacres, on the whole the\nmost ruthless and sanguinary upon record, were said to have been directly\nenjoined by the Deity, in which the duty of suppressing idolatry by force\nwas given a greater prominence than any article of the moral code, and in\nwhich the spirit of intolerance has found its most eloquent and most\npassionate expressions.(746) Besides this, the destiny theologians\nrepresented as awaiting the misbeliever was so ghastly and so appalling as\nto render it almost childish to lay any stress upon the earthly suffering\nthat might be inflicted in the extirpation of error.\n\nThat these are the true causes of the great bulk of Christian persecution,\nI believe to be one of the most certain as well as one of the most\nimportant facts in history. For the detailed proof I can only refer to\nwhat I have elsewhere written; but I may here notice that that proof\ncombines every conceivable kind of evidence that in such a question can be\ndemanded. It can be shown that these principles would naturally lead men\nto persecute. It can be shown that from the time of Constantine to the\ntime when the rationalistic spirit wrested the bloodstained sword from the\npriestly hand, persecution was uniformly defended upon them\u2014defended in\nlong, learned, and elaborate treatises, by the best and greatest men the\nChurch had produced, by sects that differed on almost all other points, by\nmultitudes who proved in every conceivable manner the purity of their\nzeal. It can be shown, too, that toleration began with the distinction\nbetween fundamental and non-fundamental doctrines, expanded in exact\nproportion to the growing latitudinarianism, and triumphed only when\nindifference to dogma had become a prevailing sentiment among legislators.\nIt was only when the battle had been won\u2014when the anti-dogmatic party,\nacting in opposition to the Church, had rendered persecution\nimpossible\u2014that the great body of theologians revised their arguments, and\ndiscovered that to punish men for their opinions was wholly at variance\nwith their faith. With the merits of this pleasing though somewhat tardy\nconversion I am not now concerned; but few persons, I think, can follow\nthe history of Christian persecution without a feeling of extreme\nastonishment that some modern writers, not content with maintaining that\nthe doctrine of exclusive salvation _ought_ not to have produced\npersecution, have ventured, in defiance of the unanimous testimony of the\ntheologians of so many centuries, to dispute the plain historical fact\nthat it _did_ produce it. They argue that the Pagans, who did not believe\nin exclusive salvation, persecuted, and that therefore that doctrine\ncannot be the cause of persecution. The answer is that no sane man ever\nmaintained that all the persecutions on record were from the same source.\nWe can prove by the clearest evidence that Christian persecutions sprang\nchiefly from the causes I have alleged. The causes of Pagan persecutions,\nthough different, are equally manifest, and I shall proceed shortly to\nindicate them.\n\nThey were partly political and partly religious. The Governments in most\nof the ancient States, in the earlier stages of their existence, undertook\nthe complete education of the people; professed to control and regulate\nall the details of their social life, even to the dresses they wore, or\nthe dishes that were served upon their tables; and, in a word, to mould\ntheir whole lives and characters into a uniform type. Hence, all\norganisations and corporations not connected with the State, and\nespecially all that emanated from foreign countries, were looked upon with\ndistrust or antipathy. But this antipathy was greatly strengthened by a\nreligious consideration. No belief was more deeply rooted in the ancient\nmind than that good or bad fortune sprang from the intervention of\nspiritual beings, and that to neglect the sacred rites was to bring down\ncalamity upon the city. In the diminutive Greek States, where the function\nof the Government was immensely enlarged, a strong intolerance existed,\nwhich extended for some time not merely to practices, but to writings and\ndiscourses. The well-known persecutions of Anaxagoras, Theodorus,\nDiagoras, Stilpo, and Socrates; the laws of Plato, which were as opposed\nto religious as to domestic freedom; and the existence in Athens of an\ninquisitorial tribunal,(747) sufficiently attested it. But long before the\nfinal ruin of Greece, speculative liberty had been fully attained. The\nEpicurean and the Sceptical schools developed unmolested, and even in the\ndays of Socrates, Aristophanes was able to ridicule the gods upon the\nstage.\n\nIn the earlier days of Rome religion was looked upon as a function of the\nState; its chief object was to make the gods auspicious to the national\npolicy,(748) and its principal ceremonies were performed at the direct\ncommand of the Senate. The national theory on religious matters was that\nthe best religion is always that of a man\u2019s own country. At the same time,\nthe widest tolerance was granted to the religions of conquered nations.\nThe temples of every god were respected by the Roman army. Before\nbesieging a city, the Romans were accustomed to supplicate the presiding\ndeities of that city. With the single exception of the Druids, whose human\nsacrifices it was thought a matter of humanity to suppress,(749) and whose\nfierce rebellions it was thought necessary to crush, the teachers of all\nnational religions continued unmolested by the conqueror.\n\nThis policy, however, applied specially to religious rites practised in\nthe countries in which they were indigenous. The liberty to be granted to\nthe vast confluence of strangers attracted to Italy during the Empire was\nanother question. In the old Republican days, when the censors regulated\nwith the most despotic authority the minutest affairs of life, and when\nthe national religion was interwoven with every detail of political and\neven domestic transactions, but little liberty could be expected. When\nCarneades endeavoured to inculcate his universal scepticism upon the\nRomans, by arguing alternately for and against the same proposition, Cato\nimmediately urged the Senate to expel him from the city, lest the people\nshould be corrupted by his teaching.(750) For a similar reason all\nrhetoricians had been banished from the Republic.(751) The most\nremarkable, however, and at the same time the extreme expression of Roman\nintolerance that has descended to us, is the advice which M\u00e6cenas is\nrepresented as having given to Octavius C\u00e6sar, before his accession to the\nthrone. \u201cAlways,\u201d he said, \u201cand everywhere, worship the gods according to\nthe rites of your country, and compel others to the same worship. Pursue\nwith your hatred and with punishments those who introduce foreign\nreligions, not only for the sake of the gods\u2014the despisers of whom can\nassuredly never do anything great\u2014but also because they who introduce new\ndivinities entice many to use foreign laws. Hence arise conspiracies,\nsocieties, and assemblies, things very unsuited to an homogeneous empire.\nTolerate no despiser of the gods, and no religious juggler. Divination is\nnecessary, and therefore let the aruspices and augurs by all means be\nsustained, and let those who will, consult them; but the magicians must be\nutterly prohibited, who, though they sometimes tell the truth, more\nfrequently, by false promises, urge men on to conspiracies.\u201d(752)\n\nThis striking passage exhibits very clearly the extent to which in some\nminds the intolerant spirit was carried in antiquity, and also the\nblending motives that produced it. We should be, however, widely mistaken\nif we regarded it as a picture of the actual religious policy of the\nEmpire. In order to realise this, it will be necessary to notice\nseparately liberty of speculation and liberty of worship.\n\nWhen Asinius Pollio founded the first public library in Rome, he placed it\nin the Temple of Liberty. The lesson which was thus taught to the literary\nclasses was never forgotten. It is probable that in no other period of the\nhistory of the world was speculative freedom so perfect as in the Roman\nEmpire. The fearless scrutiny of all notions of popular belief, displayed\nin the writings of Cicero, Seneca, Lucretius, or Lucian, did not excite an\neffort of repression. Philosophers were, indeed, persecuted by Domitian\nand Vespasian for their ardent opposition to the despotism of the\nthrone,(753) but on their own subjects they were wholly untrammelled. The\nGreek writers consoled themselves for the extinction of the independence\nof their country by the reflection that in the sphere of intellect the\nmeddling policy of the Greek States was replaced by an absolute and a\nmajestic freedom.(754) The fierceness of the opposition of sects faded\nbeneath its influence. Of all the speculative conflicts of antiquity, that\nwhich most nearly approached the virulence of later theological\ncontroversies was probably that between the Stoics and the Epicureans; but\nit is well worthy of notice that some of the most emphatic testimonies to\nthe moral goodness of Epicurus have come from the writings of his\nopponents.\n\nBut the policy of the Roman rulers towards religious rites was very\ndifferent from, and would at first sight appear to be in direct opposition\nto, their policy towards opinions. An old law, which Cicero mentions,\nexpressly forbade the introduction of new religions,(755) and in the\nRepublican days and the earliest days of the Empire there are many\ninstances of its being enforced. Thus, in A.U.C. 326, a severe drought\nhaving led men to seek help from new gods, the Senate charged the \u00e6diles\nto allow none but Roman deities to be worshipped.(756) Lutatius, soon\nafter the first Punic war, was forbidden by the Senate to consult foreign\ngods, \u201cbecause,\u201d said the historian, \u201cit was deemed right the Republic\nshould be administered according to the national auspices, and not\naccording to those of other lands.\u201d(757) During the second Punic war, a\nsevere edict of the Senate enjoined the suppression of certain recent\ninnovations.(758) About A.U.C. 615 the pr\u00e6tor Hispalus exiled those who\nhad introduced the worship of the Sabasian Jupiter.(759) The rites of\nBacchus, being accompanied by gross and scandalous obscenity, were\nsuppressed, the consul, in a remarkable speech, calling upon the people to\nrevive the religious policy of their ancestors.(760) The worship of Isis\nand Serapis only gained its footing after a long struggle, and no small\namount of persecution. The gross immorality it sometimes favoured, its\nwild and abject superstition, so thoroughly alien to the whole character\nof Roman life and tradition, and also the organisation of its priesthood,\nrendered it peculiarly obnoxious to the Government. When the first edict\nof suppression was issued, the people hesitated to destroy a temple which\nseemed so venerable in their eyes, and the consul \u00c6milius Paulus dispelled\ntheir fears by seizing an axe and striking the first blow himself.(761)\nDuring the latter days of the Republic, edicts had commanded the\ndestruction of the Egyptian temples. Octavius, however, in his younger\ndays, favoured the new worship, but, soon after, it was again\nsuppressed.(762) Under Tiberius it had once more crept in; but the priests\nof Isis having enabled a patrician named Mundus to disguise himself as the\ngod Anubis, and win the favours of a devout worshipper, the temple, by\norder of the emperor, was destroyed, the images were thrown into the\nTiber, the priests were crucified, and the seducer was banished.(763)\nUnder the same emperor four thousand persons were exiled to Sardinia, as\naffected with Jewish and Egyptian superstitions. They were commissioned to\nrepress robbers; but it was at the same time added, with a characteristic\nscorn, that if they died through the unhealthiness of the climate, it\nwould be but a \u201csmall loss.\u201d(764)\n\nThese measures represent together a considerable amount of religious\nrepression, but they were produced exclusively by notions of policy or\ndiscipline. They grew out of that intense national spirit which sacrificed\nevery other interest to the State, and resisted every form of innovation,\nwhether secular or religious, that could impair the unity of the national\ntype, and dissolve the discipline which the predominance of the military\nspirit and the stern government of the Republic had formed. They were\nalso, in some cases, the result of moral scandals. When, however, it\nbecame evident that the internal condition of the Republic was unsuited\nfor the Empire, the rulers frankly acquiesced in the change, and from the\ntime of Tiberius, with the single exception of the Christians, perfect\nliberty of worship seems to have been granted to the professors of all\nreligions in Rome.(765) The old law upon the subject was not revoked, but\nit was not generally enforced. Sometimes the new creeds were expressly\nauthorised. Sometimes they were tacitly permitted. With a single\nexception, all the religions of the world raised their heads unmolested in\nthe \u201cHoly City.\u201d(766)\n\nThe liberty, however, of professing and practising a foreign worship did\nnot dispense the Roman from the obligation of performing also the\nsacrifices or other religious rites of his own land. It was here that\nwhatever religious fanaticism mingled with Pagan persecutions was\ndisplayed. Eusebius tells us that religion was divided by the Romans into\nthree parts\u2014the mythology, or legends that had descended from the poets;\nthe interpretations or theories by which the philosophers endeavoured to\nrationalise, filter, or explain away these legends; and the ritual or\nofficial religious observances. In the first two spheres perfect liberty\nwas accorded, but the ritual was placed under the control of the\nGovernment, and was made a matter of compulsion.(767) In order to realise\nthe strength of the feeling that supported it, we must remember that the\nmultitude firmly believed that the prosperity and adversity of the Empire\ndepended chiefly upon the zeal or indifference that was shown in\nconciliating the national divinities, and also that the philosophers, as I\nhave noticed in the last chapter, for the most part not only practised,\nbut warmly defended, the official observances. The love of truth in many\nforms was exhibited among the Pagan philosophers to a degree which has\nnever been surpassed; but there was one form in which it was absolutely\nunknown. The belief that it is wrong for a man in religious matters to act\na lie, to sanction by his presence and by his example what he regards as\nbaseless superstitions, had no place in the ethics of antiquity. The\nreligious flexibility which polytheism had originally generated, the\nstrong political feeling that pervaded all classes, and also the manifest\nimpossibility of making philosophy the creed of the ignorant, had rendered\nnearly universal among philosophers a state of feeling which is often\nexhibited, but rarely openly professed, among ourselves.(768) The\nreligious opinions of men had but little influence on their religious\npractices, and the sceptic considered it not merely lawful, but a duty, to\nattend the observances of his country. No one did more to scatter the\nancient superstitions than Cicero, who was himself an augur, and who\nstrongly asserted the duty of complying with the national rites.(769)\nSeneca, having recounted in the most derisive terms the absurdities of the\npopular worship, concludes his enumeration by declaring that \u201cthe sage\nwill observe all these things, not as pleasing to the Divinities, but as\ncommanded by the law,\u201d and that he should remember \u201cthat his worship is\ndue to custom, not to belief.\u201d(770) Epictetus, whose austere creed rises\nto the purest monotheism, teaches as a fundamental religious maxim that\nevery man in his devotions should \u201cconform to the customs of his\ncountry.\u201d(771) The Jews and Christians, who alone refused to do so, were\nthe representatives of a moral principle that was unknown to the Pagan\nworld.\n\nIt should be remembered, too, that the Oriental custom of deifying\nemperors having been introduced into Rome, to burn incense before their\nstatues had become a kind of test of loyalty. This adoration does not, it\nis true, appear to have implied any particular article of belief, and it\nwas probably regarded by most men as we regard the application of the term\n\u201cSacred Majesty\u201d to a sovereign, and the custom of kneeling in his\npresence; but it was esteemed inconsistent with Christianity, and the\nconscientious refusal of the Christians to comply with it aroused a\nfeeling resembling that which was long produced in Christendom by the\nrefusal of Quakers to comply with the usages of courts.\n\nThe obligation to perform the sacred rites of an idolatrous worship, if\nrigidly enforced, would have amounted, in the case of the Jews and the\nChristians, to a complete proscription. It does not, however, appear that\nthe Jews were ever persecuted on this ground. They formed a large and\ninfluential colony in Rome. They retained undiminished, in the midst of\nthe Pagan population, their exclusive habits, refusing not merely all\nreligious communion, but most social intercourse with the idolaters,\noccupying a separate quarter of the city, and sedulously practising their\ndistinctive rites. Tiberius, as we have seen, appears to have involved\nthem in his proscription of Egyptian superstitions; but they were usually\nperfectly unmolested, or were molested only when their riotous conduct had\nattracted the attention of the rulers. The Government was so far from\ncompelling them to perform acts contrary to their religion, that Augustus\nexpressly changed the day of the distribution of corn, in order that they\nmight not be reduced to the alternative of forfeiting their share, or of\nbreaking the Sabbath.(772)\n\nIt appears, then, that the old Republican intolerance had in the Empire\nbeen so modified as almost to have disappeared. The liberty of speculation\nand discussion was entirely unchecked. The liberty of practising foreign\nreligious rites, though ostensibly limited by the law against unauthorised\nreligions, was after Tiberius equally secure. The liberty of abstaining\nfrom the official national rites, though more precarious, was fully\nconceded to the Jews, whose jealousy of idolatry was in no degree inferior\nto that of the Christians. It remains, then, to examine what were the\ncauses of the very exceptional fanaticism and animosity that were directed\nagainst the latter.\n\nThe first cause of the persecution of the Christians was the religious\nnotion to which I have already referred. The belief that our world is\ngoverned by isolated acts of Divine intervention, and that, in\nconsequence, every great calamity, whether physical, or military, or\npolitical, may be regarded as a punishment or a warning, was the basis of\nthe whole religious system of antiquity.(773) In the days of the Republic\nevery famine, pestilence, or drought was followed by a searching\ninvestigation of the sacred rites, to ascertain what irregularity or\nneglect had caused the Divine anger, and two instances are recorded in\nwhich vestal virgins were put to death because their unchastity was\nbelieved to have provoked a national calamity.(774) It might appear at\nfirst sight that the fanaticism which this belief would naturally produce\nwould have been directed against the Jews as strongly as against the\nChristians; but a moment\u2019s reflection is sufficient to explain the\ndifference. The Jewish religion was essentially conservative and\nunexpansive. Although, in the passion for Oriental religions, many of the\nRomans had begun to practise its ceremonies, there was no spirit of\nproselytism in the sect; and it is probable that almost all who followed\nthis religion, to the exclusion of others, were of Hebrew nationality. The\nChristians, on the other hand, were ardent missionaries; they were, for\nthe most part, Romans who had thrown off the allegiance of their old gods,\nand their activity was so great that from a very early period the temples\nwere in some districts almost deserted.(775) Besides this, the Jews simply\nabstained from and despised the religions around them. The Christians\ndenounced them as the worship of d\u00e6mons, and lost no opportunity of\ninsulting them. It is not, therefore, surprising that the populace should\nhave been firmly convinced that every great catastrophe that occurred was\ndue to the presence of the enemies of the gods. \u201cIf the Tiber ascends to\nthe walls,\u201d says Tertullian, \u201cor if the Nile does not overflow the fields,\nif the heaven refuses its rain, if the earth quakes, if famine and\npestilence desolate the land, immediately the cry is raised, \u2018The\nChristians to the lions!\u2019 \u201d(776) \u201cThere is no rain\u2014the Christians are the\ncause,\u201d had become a popular proverb in Rome.(777) Earthquakes, which, on\naccount of their peculiarly appalling, and, to ignorant men, mysterious\nnature, have played a very large part in the history of superstition, were\nfrequent and terrible in the Asiatic provinces, and in three or four\ninstances the persecution of the Christians may be distinctly traced to\nthe fanaticism they produced.\n\nThere is no part of ecclesiastical history more curious than the effects\nof this belief in alternately assisting or impeding the progress of\ndifferent Churches. In the first three centuries of Christian history, it\nwas the cause of fearful sufferings to the faith; but even then the\nChristians usually accepted the theory of their adversaries, though they\ndiffered concerning its application. Tertullian and Cyprian strongly\nmaintained, sometimes that the calamities were due to the anger of the\nAlmighty against idolatry, sometimes that they were intended to avenge the\npersecution of the truth. A collection was early made of men who, having\nbeen hostile to the Christian faith, had died by some horrible death, and\ntheir deaths were pronounced to be Divine punishments.(778) The victory\nwhich established the power of the first Christian emperor, and the sudden\ndeath of Arius, were afterwards accepted as decisive proofs of the truth\nof Christianity, and of the falsehood of Arianism.(779) But soon the\nmanifest signs of the dissolution of the Empire revived the zeal of the\nPagans, who began to reproach themselves for their ingratitude to their\nold gods, and who recognised in the calamities of their country the\nvengeance of an insulted Heaven. When the altar of Victory was removed\ncontemptuously from the Senate, when the sacred college of the vestals was\nsuppressed, when, above all, the armies of Alaric encircled the Imperial\ncity, angry murmurs arose which disturbed the Christians in their triumph.\nThe standing-point of the theologians was then somewhat altered. St.\nAmbrose dissected with the most unsparing rationalism the theory that\nascribed the national decline to the suppression of the vestals, traced it\nto all its consequences, and exposed all its absurdities. Orosius wrote\nhis history to prove that great misfortunes had befallen the Empire before\nits conversion. Salvian wrote his treatise on Providence to prove that the\nbarbarian invasions were a Divine judgment on the immorality of the\nChristians. St. Augustine concentrated all his genius on a great work,\nwritten under the impression of the invasion of Alaric, and intended to\nprove that \u201cthe city of God\u201d was not on earth, and that the downfall of\nthe Empire need therefore cause no disquietude to the Christians. St.\nGregory the Great continually represented the calamities of Italy as\nwarnings foreboding the destruction of the world. When Rome sank finally\nbefore the barbarian hosts, it would seem as though the doctrine that\ntemporal success was the proof of Divine favour must be finally abandoned.\nBut the Christian clergy disengaged their cause from that of the ruined\nEmpire, proclaimed its downfall to be a fulfilment of prophecy and a\nDivine judgment, confronted the barbarian conquerors in all the majesty of\ntheir sacred office, and overawed them in the very moment of their\nvictory. In the conversion of the uncivilised tribes, the doctrine of\nspecial intervention occupied a commanding place. The Burgundians, when\ndefeated by the Huns, resolved, as a last resource, to place themselves\nunder the protection of the Roman God whom they vaguely believed to be the\nmost powerful, and the whole nation in consequence embraced\nChristianity.(780) In a critical moment of a great battle, Clovis invoked\nthe assistance of the God of his wife. The battle was won, and he, with\nmany thousands of Franks, was converted to the faith.(781) In England, the\nconversion of Northumbria was partly, and the conversion of Mercia was\nmainly, due to the belief that the Divine interposition had secured the\nvictory of a Christian king.(782) A Bulgarian prince was driven into the\nChurch by the terror of a pestilence, and he speedily effected the\nconversion of his subjects.(783) The destruction of so many shrines, and\nthe defeat of so many Christian armies, by the followers of Mohammed; the\ndisastrous and ignominious overthrow of the Crusaders, who went forth\nprotected by all the blessings of the Church, were unable to impair the\nbelief. All through the middle ages, and for some centuries after the\nmiddle ages had passed, every startling catastrophe was regarded as a\npunishment, or a warning, or a sign of the approaching termination of the\nworld. Churches and monasteries were built. Religious societies were\nfounded. Penances were performed. Jews were massacred, and a long\ncatalogue might be given of the theories by which men attempted to connect\nevery vicissitude of fortune, and every convulsion of nature, with the\nwranglings of theologians. Thus, to give but a few examples: St. Ambrose\nconfidently asserted that the death of Maximus was a consequence of the\ncrime he had committed in compelling the Christians to rebuild a Jewish\nsynagogue they had destroyed.(784) One of the laws in the Justinian code,\ndirected against the Jews, Samaritans, and Pagans, expressly attributes to\nthem the sterility of the soil, which in an earlier age the Pagans had so\noften attributed to the Christians.(785) A volcanic eruption that broke\nout at the commencement of the iconoclastic persecution was adduced as a\nclear proof that the Divine anger was aroused, according to one party, by\nthe hostility of the emperor to the sacred images; according to the other\nparty, by his sinful hesitation in extirpating idolatry.(786) Bodin, in a\nlater age, considered that the early death of the sovereign who commanded\nthe massacre of St. Bartholomew was due to what he deemed the master crime\nof that sovereign\u2019s reign. He had spared the life of a famous\nsorcerer.(787) In the struggles that followed the Reformation, physical\ncalamities were continually ascribed in one age to the toleration, in\nanother to the endowment, of either heresy or Popery.(788) Sometimes,\nhowever, they were traced to the theatre, and sometimes to the writings of\nfreethinkers. But gradually, and almost insensibly, these notions faded\naway. The old language is often heard, but it is no longer realised and\noperative, and the doctrine which played so large a part in the history of\nthe world has ceased to exercise any appreciable influence upon the\nactions of mankind.\n\nIn addition to this religious motive, which acted chiefly upon the vulgar,\nthere was a political motive which rendered Christianity obnoxious to the\neducated. The Church constituted a vast, highly organised, and in many\nrespects secret society, and as such was not only distinctly illegal, but\nwas also in the very highest degree calculated to excite the apprehensions\nof the Government. There was no principle in the Imperial policy more\nstubbornly upheld than the suppression of all corporations that might be\nmade the nuclei of revolt. The extent to which this policy was carried is\nstrikingly evinced by a letter from Trajan to Pliny, in which the emperor\nforbade the formation even of a guild of firemen, on the ground that they\nwould constitute an association and hold meetings.(789) In such a state of\nfeeling, the existence of a vast association, governed by countless\nfunctionaries, shrouding its meetings and some of its doctrines in\nimpenetrable obscurity, evoking a degree of attachment and devotion\ngreater than could be elicited by the State, ramifying through the whole\nextent of the empire, and restlessly extending its influence, would\nnaturally arouse the strongest apprehension. That it did so is clearly\nrecognised by the Christian apologists, who, however, justly retorted upon\nthe objectors the impossibility of showing a single instance in which, in\nan age of continual conspiracies, the numerous and persecuted Christians\nhad proved disloyal. Whatever we may think of their doctrine of passive\nobedience, it is impossible not to admire the constancy with which they\nclung to it, when all their interests were the other way. But yet the\nPagans were not altogether wrong in regarding the new association as fatal\nto the greatness of the Empire. It consisted of men who regarded the Roman\nEmpire as a manifestation of Antichrist, and who looked forward with\npassionate longing to its destruction. It substituted a new enthusiasm for\nthat patriotism which was the very life-blood of the national existence.\nMany of the Christians deemed it wrong to fight for their country. All of\nthem aspired to a type of character, and were actuated by hopes and\nmotives, wholly inconsistent with that proud martial ardour by which the\ntriumphs of Rome had been won, and by which alone her impending ruin could\nbe averted.\n\nThe aims and principles of this association were very imperfectly\nunderstood. The greatest and best of the Pagans spoke of it as a hateful\nsuperstition, and the phrase they most frequently reiterated, when\nspeaking of its members, was \u201cenemies\u201d or \u201chaters of the human race.\u201d Such\na charge, directed persistently against men whose main principle was the\nsupreme excellence of love, and whose charity unquestionably rose far\nabove that of any other class, was probably due in the first place to the\nunsocial habits of the converts, who deemed it necessary to abstain from\nall the forms of public amusement, to refuse to illuminate their houses,\nor hang garlands from their portals in honour of the national triumphs,\nand who somewhat ostentatiously exhibited themselves as separate and alien\nfrom their countrymen. It may also have arisen from a knowledge of the\npopular Christian doctrine about the future destiny of Pagans. When the\nRoman learnt what fate the Christian assigned to the heroes and sages of\nhis nation, and to the immense mass of his living fellow-countrymen, when\nhe was told that the destruction of the once glorious Empire to which he\nbelonged was one of the most fervent aspirations of the Church, his\nfeelings were very likely to clothe themselves in such language as I have\ncited.\n\nBut, in addition to the general charges, specific accusations(790) of the\ngrossest kind were directed against Christian morals. At a time when the\nmoral standard was very low, they were charged with deeds so atrocious as\nto scandalise the most corrupt. They were represented as habitually, in\ntheir secret assemblies, celebrating the most licentious orgies, feeding\non human flesh, and then, the lights having been extinguished, indulging\nin promiscuous, and especially in incestuous, intercourse. The persistence\nwith which these accusations were made is shown by the great prominence\nthey occupy, both in the writings of the apologists and in the narrations\nof the persecutions. That these charges were absolutely false will now be\nquestioned by no one. The Fathers were long able to challenge their\nadversaries to produce a single instance in which any other crime than his\nfaith was proved against a martyr, and they urged with a just and noble\npride that whatever doubt there might be of the truth of the Christian\ndoctrines, or of the Divine origin of the Christian miracles, there was at\nleast no doubt that Christianity had transformed the characters of\nmultitudes, vivified the cold heart by a new enthusiasm, redeemed,\nregenerated, and emancipated the most depraved of mankind. Noble lives,\ncrowned by heroic deaths, were the best arguments of the infant\nChurch.(791) Their enemies themselves not unfrequently acknowledged it.\nThe love shown by the early Christians to their suffering brethren has\nnever been more emphatically attested than by Lucian,(792) or the\nbeautiful simplicity of their worship than by Pliny,(793) or their ardent\ncharity than by Julian.(794) There was, it is true, another side to the\npicture; but even when the moral standard of Christians was greatly\nlowered, it was lowered only to that of the community about them.\n\nThese calumnies were greatly encouraged by the ecclesiastical rule, which\nwithheld from the unbaptised all knowledge of some of the more mysterious\ndoctrines of the Church, and veiled, at least, one of its ceremonies in\ngreat obscurity. Vague rumours about the nature of that sacramental feast,\nto which none but the baptised Christian was suffered to penetrate, and\nwhich no ecclesiastic was permitted to explain either to the catechumens\nor to the world, were probably the origin of the charge of cannibalism;\nwhile the Agap\u00e6 or love feasts, the ceremony of the kiss of love, and the\npeculiar and, to the Pagans, perhaps unintelligible, language in which the\nChristians proclaimed themselves one body and fellow-members in Christ,\nmay have suggested the other charges. The eager credulity with which\nequally baseless accusations against the Jews were for centuries believed,\nillustrates the readiness with which they were accepted, and the extremely\nimperfect system of police which rendered the verification of secret\ncrimes very difficult, had no doubt greatly enlarged the sphere of\ncalumny. But, in addition to these considerations, the orthodox were in\nsome respects exceedingly unfortunate. In the eyes of the Pagans they were\nregarded as a sect of Jews; and the Jews, on account of their continual\nriots, their inextinguishable hatred of the Gentile world,(795) and the\natrocities that frequently accompanied their rebellions, had early excited\nthe anger and the contempt of the Pagans. On the other hand, the Jew, who\ndeemed the abandonment of the law the most heinous of crimes, and whose\npatriotism only shone with a fiercer flame amid the calamities of his\nnation, regarded the Christian with an implacable hostility. Scorned or\nhated by those around him, his temple levelled with the dust, and the last\nvestige of his independence destroyed, he clung with a desperate tenacity\nto the hopes and privileges of his ancient creed. In his eyes the\nChristians were at once apostates and traitors. He could not forget that\nin the last dark hour of his country\u2019s agony, when the armies of the\nGentile encompassed Jerusalem, and when the hosts of the faithful flocked\nto its defence, the Christian Jews had abandoned the fortunes of their\nrace, and refused to bear any part in the heroism and the sufferings of\nthe closing scene. They had proclaimed that the promised Messiah, who was\nto restore the faded glories of Israel, had already come; that the\nprivileges which were so long the monopoly of a single people had passed\nto the Gentile world; that the race which was once supremely blest was for\nall future time to be accursed among mankind. It is not, therefore,\nsurprising that there should have arisen between the two creeds an\nanimosity which Paganism could never rival. While the Christians viewed\nwith too much exultation the calamities that fell upon the prostrate\npeople,(796) whose cup of bitterness they were destined through long\ncenturies to fill to the brim, the Jews laboured with unwearied hatred to\nfoment by calumnies the passions of the Pagan multitude.(797) On the other\nhand, the Catholic Christians showed themselves extremely willing to draw\ndown the sword of the persecutor upon the heretical sects. When the Pagans\naccused the Christians of indulging in orgies of gross licentiousness, the\nfirst apologist, while repudiating the charge, was careful to add, of the\nheretics, \u201cWhether or not these people commit those shameful and fabulous\nacts, the putting out the lights, indulging in promiscuous intercourse,\nand eating human flesh, I know not.\u201d(798) In a few years the language of\ndoubt and insinuation was exchanged for that of direct assertion; and, if\nwe may believe St. Iren\u00e6us and St. Clement of Alexandria, the followers of\nCarpocrates, the Marcionites, and some other Gnostic sects, habitually\nindulged, in their secret meetings, in acts of impurity and licentiousness\nas hideous and as monstrous as can be conceived, and their conduct was one\nof the causes of the persecution of the orthodox.(799) Even the most\nextravagant charges of the Pagan populace were reiterated by the Fathers\nin their accusations of the Gnostics. St. Epiphanius, in the fourth\ncentury, assures us that some of their sects were accustomed to kill, to\ndress with spices, and to eat the children born of their promiscuous\nintercourse.(800) The heretics, in their turn, gladly accused the\nCatholics;(801) while the Roman judge, in whose eyes Judaism, orthodox\nChristianity, and heresy were but slightly differing modifications of one\ndespicable superstition, doubtless found in this interchange of\naccusations a corroboration of his prejudices.\n\nAnother cause of the peculiar animosity felt against the Christians was\nthe constant interference with domestic life, arising from the great\nnumber of female conversions. The Christian teacher was early noted for\nhis unrivalled skill in playing on the chords of a woman\u2019s heart.(802) The\ngraphic title of \u201cEarpicker of ladies,\u201d(803) which was given to a\nseductive pontiff of a somewhat later period, might have been applied to\nmany in the days of the persecution; and to the Roman, who regarded the\nsupreme authority of the head of the family, in all religious matters, as\nthe very foundation of domestic morality, no character could appear more\ninfamous or more revolting. \u201cA wife,\u201d said Plutarch, expressing the\ndeepest conviction of the Pagan world, \u201cshould have no friends but those\nof her husband; and, as the gods are the first of friends, she should know\nno gods but those whom her husband adores. Let her shut the door, then,\nagainst idle religions and foreign superstitions. No god can take pleasure\nin sacrifices offered by a wife without the knowledge of her\nhusband.\u201d(804) But these principles, upon which the whole social system of\nPaganism had rested, were now disregarded. Wives in multitudes deserted\ntheir homes to frequent the nocturnal meetings(805) of a sect which was\nlooked upon with the deepest suspicion, and was placed under the ban of\nthe law. Again and again, the husband, as he laid his head on the pillow\nby his wife, had the bitterness of thinking that all her sympathies were\nwithdrawn from him; that her affections belonged to an alien priesthood\nand to a foreign creed; that, though she might discharge her duties with a\ngentle and uncomplaining fidelity, he had for ever lost the power of\ntouching her heart\u2014he was to her only as an outcast, as a brand prepared\nfor the burning. Even to a Christian mind there is a deep pathos in the\npicture which St. Augustine has drawn of the broken-hearted husband\nimploring the assistance of the gods, and receiving from the oracle the\nbitter answer: \u201cYou may more easily write in enduring characters on the\nwave, or fly with feathers through the air, than purge the mind of a woman\nwhen once tainted by the superstition.\u201d(806)\n\nI have already noticed the prominence which the practice of exorcism had\nacquired in the early Church, the contempt with which it was regarded by\nthe more philosophic Pagans, and the law which had been directed against\nits professors. It is not, however, probable that this practice, though it\nlowered the Christians in the eyes of the educated as much as it elevated\nthem in the eyes of the populace, had any appreciable influence in\nprovoking persecution. In the crowd of superstitions that were invading\nthe Roman Empire, exorcism had a prominent place; all such practices were\npopular with the masses; the only form of magic which under the Empire was\nseriously persecuted was political astrology or divination with a view to\ndiscovering the successors to the throne, and of this the Christians were\nnever accused.(807) There was, however, another form of what was deemed\nsuperstition connected with the Church, which was regarded by Pagan\nphilosophers with a much deeper feeling of aversion. To agitate the minds\nof men with religious terrorism, to fill the unknown world with hideous\nimages of suffering, to govern the reason by alarming the imagination, was\nin the eyes of the Pagan world one of the most heinous of crimes.(808)\nThese fears were to the ancients the very definition of superstition, and\ntheir destruction was a main object both of the Epicurean and of the\nStoic. To men holding such sentiments, it is easy to perceive how\nobnoxious must have appeared religious teachers who maintained that an\neternity of torture was reserved for the entire human race then existing\nin the world, beyond the range of their own community, and who made the\nassertion of this doctrine one of their main instruments of success.(809)\nEnquiry, among the early theologians, was much less valued than\nbelief,(810) and reason was less appealed to than fear. In philosophy the\nmost comprehensive, but in theology the most intolerant, system is\nnaturally the strongest. To weak women, to the young, the ignorant, and\nthe timid, to all, in a word, who were doubtful of their own judgment, the\ndoctrine of exclusive salvation must have come with an appalling power;\nand, as no other religion professed it, it supplied the Church with an\ninvaluable vantage-ground, and doubtless drove multitudes into its pale.\nTo this doctrine we may also, in a great degree, ascribe the agony of\nterror that was so often displayed by the apostate, whose flesh shrank\nfrom the present torture, but who was convinced that the weakness he could\nnot overcome would be expiated by an eternity of torment.(811) To the\nindignation excited by such teaching was probably due a law of Marcus\nAurelius, which decreed that \u201cif any one shall do anything whereby the\nweak minds of any may be terrified by superstitious fear, the offender\nshall be exiled into an island.\u201d(812)\n\nThere can, indeed, be little doubt that a chief cause of the hostility\nfelt against the Christian Church was the intolerant aspect it at that\ntime displayed. The Romans were prepared to tolerate almost any form of\nreligion that would tolerate others. The Jews, though quite as obstinate\nas the Christians in refusing to sacrifice to the emperor, were rarely\nmolested, except in the periods immediately following their insurrections,\nbecause Judaism, however exclusive and unsocial, was still an unaggressive\nnational faith. But the Christian teachers taught that all religions,\nexcept their own and that of the Jews, were constructed by devils, and\nthat all who dissented from their Church must be lost. It was impossible\nthat men strung to the very highest pitch of religious excitement, and\nimagining they saw in every ceremony and oracle the direct working of a\npresent d\u00e6mon, could restrain their zeal, or respect in any degree the\nfeelings of others. Proselytising with an untiring energy, pouring a\nfierce stream of invective and ridicule upon the gods on whose favour the\nmultitude believed all national prosperity to depend, not unfrequently\ninsulting the worshippers, and defacing the idols,(813) they soon stung\nthe Pagan devotees to madness, and convinced them that every calamity that\nfell upon the empire was the righteous vengeance of the gods. Nor was the\nsceptical politician more likely to regard with favour a religion whose\ndevelopment was plainly incompatible with the whole religious policy of\nthe Empire. The new Church, as it was then organised, must have appeared\nto him essentially, fundamentally, necessarily intolerant. To permit it to\ntriumph was to permit the extinction of religious liberty in an empire\nwhich comprised all the leading nations of the world, and tolerated all\ntheir creeds. It was indeed true that in the days of their distress the\napologists proclaimed, in high and eloquent language, the iniquity of\npersecution, and the priceless value of a free worship; but it needed no\ngreat sagacity to perceive that the language of the dominant Church would\nbe very different. The Pagan philosopher could not foresee the ghastly\nhistories of the Inquisition, of the Albigenses, or of St. Bartholomew;\nbut he could scarcely doubt that the Christians, when in the ascendant,\nwould never tolerate rites which they believed to be consecrated to\ndevils, or restrain, in the season of their power, a religious animosity\nwhich they scarcely bridled when they were weak. It needed no prophetic\ninspiration to anticipate the time, that so speedily arrived, when, amid\nthe wailings of the worshippers, the idols and the temples were shattered,\nand when all who practised the religious ceremonies of their forefathers\nwere subject to the penalty of death.\n\nThere has probably never existed upon earth a community whose members were\nbound to one another by a deeper or a purer affection than the Christians,\nin the days of the persecution. There has probably never existed a\ncommunity which exhibited in its dealings with crime a gentler or more\njudicious kindness, which combined more happily an unflinching opposition\nto sin with a boundless charity to the sinner, and which was in\nconsequence more successful in reclaiming and transforming the most\nvicious of mankind. There has, however, also never existed a community\nwhich displayed more clearly the intolerance that would necessarily follow\nits triumph. Very early tradition has related three anecdotes of the\napostle John which illustrate faithfully this triple aspect of the Church.\nIt is said that when the assemblies of the Christians thronged around him\nto hear some exhortation from his lips, the only words he would utter\nwere, \u201cMy little children, love one another;\u201d for in this, he said, is\ncomprised the entire law. It is said that a young man he had once confided\nto the charge of a bishop, having fallen into the ways of vice, and become\nthe captain of a band of robbers, the apostle, on hearing of it, bitterly\nreproached the negligence of the pastor, and, though in extreme old age,\nbetook himself to the mountains till he had been captured by the robbers,\nwhen, falling with tears on the neck of the chief, he restored him to the\npath of virtue. It is said that the same apostle, once seeing the heretic\nCerinthus in an establishment of baths into which he had entered,\nimmediately rushed forth, fearing lest the roof should fall because a\nheretic was beneath it.(814) All that fierce hatred which during the Arian\nand Donatist controversies convulsed the Empire, and which in later times\nhas deluged the world with blood, may be traced in the Church long before\nthe conversion of Constantine. Already, in the second century, it was the\nrule that the orthodox Christian should hold no conversation, should\ninterchange none of the most ordinary courtesies of life, with the\nexcommunicated or the heretic.(815) Common sufferings were impotent to\nassuage the animosity, and the purest and fondest relations of life were\npolluted by the new intolerance. The Decian persecution had scarcely\nclosed, when St. Cyprian wrote his treatise to maintain that it is no more\npossible to be saved beyond the limits of the Church, than it was during\nthe deluge beyond the limits of the ark; that martyrdom itself has no\npower to efface the guilt of schism; and that the heretic, who for his\nmaster\u2019s cause expired in tortures upon the earth, passed at once, by that\nmaster\u2019s decree, into an eternity of torment in hell!(816) Even in the\narena the Catholic martyrs withdrew from the Montanists, lest they should\nbe mingled with the heretics in death.(817) At a later period St.\nAugustine relates that, when he was a Manichean, his mother for a time\nrefused even to eat at the same table with her erring child.(818) When St.\nAmbrose not only defended the act of a Christian bishop, who had burnt\ndown a synagogue of the Jews, but denounced as a deadly crime the decree\nof the Government which ordered it to be rebuilt;(819) when the same\nsaint, in advocating the plunder of the vestal virgins, maintained the\ndoctrine that it is criminal for a Christian State to grant any endowment\nto the ministers of any religion but his own,(820) which it has needed all\nthe efforts of modern liberalism to efface from legislation, he was but\nfollowing in the traces of those earlier Christians, who would not even\nwear a laurel crown,(821) or join in the most innocent civic festival,\nlest they should appear in some indirect way to be acquiescing in the\nPagan worship. While the apologists were maintaining against the Pagan\npersecutors the duty of tolerance, the Sibylline books, which were the\npopular literature of the Christians, were filled with passionate\nanticipations of the violent destruction of the Pagan temples.(822) And no\nsooner had Christianity mounted the throne than the policy they\nforeshadowed became ascendant. The indifference or worldly sagacity of\nsome of the rulers, and the imposing number of the Pagans, delayed, no\ndoubt, the final consummation; but, from the time of Constantine,\nrestrictive laws were put in force, the influence of the ecclesiastics was\nceaselessly exerted in their favour, and no sagacious man could fail to\nanticipate the speedy and absolute proscription of the Pagan worship. It\nis related of the philosopher Antoninus, the son of the Pagan prophetess\nSospitra, that, standing one day with his disciples before that noble\ntemple of Serapis, at Alexandria, which was one of the wonders of ancient\nart, and which was destined soon after to perish by the rude hands of the\nChristian monks, the prophetic spirit of his mother fell upon him. Like\nanother prophet before another shrine, he appalled his hearers by the\nprediction of the approaching ruin. The time would come, he said, when the\nglorious edifice before them would be overthrown, the carved images would\nbe defaced, the temples of the gods would be turned into the sepulchres of\nthe dead, and a great darkness would fall upon mankind!(823)\n\nAnd, besides the liberty of worship, the liberty of thought and of\nexpression, which was the supreme attainment of Roman civilisation, was in\nperil. The new religion, unlike that which was disappearing, claimed to\ndictate the opinions as well as the actions of men, and its teachers\nstigmatised as an atrocious crime the free expression of every opinion on\nreligious matters diverging from their own. Of all the forms of liberty,\nit was this which lasted the longest, and was the most dearly prized. Even\nafter Constantine, the Pagans Libanius, Themistius, Symmachus, and Sallust\nenforced their views with a freedom that contrasts remarkably with the\nrestraints imposed upon their worship, and the beautiful friendships of\nSt. Basil and Libanius, of Synesius and Hypatia, are among the most\ntouching episodes of their time. But though the traditions of Pagan\nfreedom, and the true catholicism of Justin Martyr and Origen, lingered\nlong, it was inevitable that error, being deemed criminal, should be made\npenal. The dogmatism of Athanasius and Augustine, the increasing power of\nthe clergy, and the fanaticism of the monks, hastened the end. The\nsuppression of all religions but one by Theodosius, the murder of Hypatia\nat Alexandria by the monks of Cyril, and the closing by Justinian of the\nschools of Athens, are the three events which mark the decisive overthrow\nof intellectual freedom. A thousand years had rolled away before that\nfreedom was in part restored.\n\nThe considerations I have briefly enumerated should not in the smallest\ndegree detract from the admiration due to the surpassing courage, to the\npure, touching, and sacred virtues of the Christian martyrs; but they in\nsome degree palliate the conduct of the persecutors, among whom must be\nincluded one emperor, who was probably, on the whole, the best and most\nhumane sovereign who has ever sat upon a throne, and at least two others,\nwho were considerably above the average of virtue. When, combined with the\nindifference to human suffering, the thirst for blood, which the\nspectacles of the amphitheatre had engendered, they assuredly make the\npersecutions abundantly explicable. They show that if it can be proved\nthat Christian persecutions sprang from the doctrine of exclusive\nsalvation, the fact that the Roman Pagans, who did not hold that doctrine,\nalso persecuted, need not cause the slightest perplexity. That the\npersecutions of Christianity by the Roman emperors, severe as they\nundoubtedly were, were not of such a continuous nature as wholly to\ncounteract the vast moral, social, and intellectual agencies that were\nfavourable to its spread, a few dates will show.\n\nWe have seen that when the Egyptian rites were introduced into Rome, they\nwere met by prompt and energetic measures of repression; that these\nmeasures were again and again repeated, but that at last, when they proved\nineffectual, the governors desisted from their opposition, and the new\nworship assumed a recognised place. The history of Christianity, in its\nrelation to the Government, is the reverse of this. Its first introduction\ninto Rome appears to have been altogether unopposed. Tertullian asserts\nthat Tiberius, on the ground of a report from Pontius Pilate, desired to\nenrol Christ among the Roman gods, but that the Senate rejected the\nproposal; but this assertion, which is altogether unsupported by\ntrustworthy evidence, and is, intrinsically, extremely improbable, is now\ngenerally recognised as false.(824) An isolated passage of Suetonius\nstates that in the time of Claudius \u201cthe Jews, being continually rioting,\nat the instigation of a certain Chrestus,\u201d(825) were expelled from the\ncity; but no Christian writer speaks of his co-religionists being\ndisturbed in this reign, while all, with a perfect unanimity, and with\ngreat emphasis, describe Nero as the first persecutor. His persecution\nbegan at the close of A.D. 64.(826) It was directed against Christians,\nnot ostensibly on the ground of their religion, but because they were\nfalsely accused of having set fire to Rome, and it is very doubtful\nwhether it extended beyond the city.(827) It had also this peculiarity,\nthat, being directed against the Christians not as Christians, but as\nincendiaries, it was impossible to escape from it by apostasy. Within the\nwalls of Rome it raged with great fury. The Christians, who had been for\nmany years(828) proselytising without restraint in the great confluence of\nnations, and amid the disintegration of old beliefs, had become a\nformidable body. They were, we learn from Tacitus, profoundly unpopular;\nbut the hideous tortures to which Nero subjected them, and the conviction\nthat, whatever other crimes they might have committed, they were not\nguilty of setting fire to the city, awoke general pity. Some of them, clad\nin skins of wild beasts, were torn by dogs. Others, arrayed in shirts of\npitch, were burnt alive in Nero\u2019s garden.(829) Others were affixed to\ncrosses. Great multitudes perished. The deep impression the persecution\nmade on the Christian mind is shown in the whole literature of the Sibyls,\nwhich arose soon after, in which Nero is usually the central figure, and\nby the belief, that lingered for centuries, that the tyrant was yet alive,\nand would return once more as the immediate precursor of Antichrist, to\ninflict the last great persecution upon the Church.(830)\n\nNero died A.D. 68. From that time, for at least twenty-seven years, the\nChurch enjoyed absolute repose. There is no credible evidence whatever of\nthe smallest interference with its freedom till the last year of the reign\nof Domitian; and a striking illustration of the fearlessness with which it\nexhibited itself to the world has been lately furnished in the discovery,\nnear Rome, of a large and handsome porch leading to a Christian catacomb,\nbuilt above ground between the reigns of Nero and Domitian, in the\nimmediate neighbourhood of one of the principal highways.(831) The long\nreign of Domitian, though it may have been surpassed in ferocity, was\nnever surpassed in the Roman annals in the skilfulness and the persistence\nof its tyranny. The Stoics and literary classes, who upheld the traditions\nof political freedom, and who had already suffered much at the hands of\nVespasian, were persecuted with relentless animosity. Metius Modestus,\nArulenus Rusticus, Senecio, Helvidius, Dion Chrysostom, the younger\nPriscus, Junius Mauricus, Artemidorus, Euphrates, Epictetus, Arria,\nFannia, and Gratilla were either killed or banished.(832) No measures,\nhowever, appear to have been taken against the Christians till A.D. 95,\nwhen a short and apparently not very severe persecution, concerning which\nour information is both scanty and conflicting, was directed against them.\nOf the special cause that produced it we are left in much doubt. Eusebius\nmentions, on the not very trustworthy authority of Hegesippus, that the\nemperor, having heard of the existence of the grandchildren of Judas, the\nbrother of Christ, ordered them to be brought before him, as being of the\nfamily of David, and therefore possible pretenders to the throne; but on\nfinding that they were simple peasants, and that the promised kingdom of\nwhich they spoke was a spiritual one, he dismissed them in peace, and\narrested the persecution he had begun.(833) A Pagan historian states that,\nthe finances of the Empire being exhausted by lavish expenditure in public\ngames, Domitian, in order to replenish his exchequer, resorted to a severe\nand special taxation of the Jews; that some of these, in order to evade\nthe impost, concealed their worship, while others, who are supposed to\nhave been Christians, are described as following the Jewish rites without\nbeing professed Jews.(834) Perhaps, however, the simplest explanation is\nthe truest, and the persecution may be ascribed to the antipathy which a\ndespot like Domitian must necessarily have felt to an institution which,\nthough it did not, like Stoicism, resist his policy, at least exercised a\nvast influence altogether removed from his control. St. John, who was then\na very old man, is said to have been at this time exiled to Patmos.\nFlavius Clemens, a consul, and a relative of the emperor, was put to\ndeath. His wife, or, according to another account, his niece Domitilla,\nwas banished, according to one account, to the island of Pontia, according\nto another, to the island of Pandataria, and many others were compelled to\naccompany her into exile.(835) Numbers, we are told, \u201caccused of\nconversion to impiety or Jewish rites,\u201d were condemned. Some were killed,\nand others deprived of their offices.(836) Of the cessation of the\npersecution there are two different versions. Tertullian(837) and\nEusebius(838) say that the tyrant speedily revoked his edict, and restored\nthose who had been banished; but according to Lactantius these measures\nwere not taken till after the death of Domitian,(839) and this latter\nstatement is corroborated by the assertion of Dion Cassius, that Nerva,\nupon his accession, \u201cabsolved those who were accused of impiety, and\nrecalled the exiles.\u201d(840)\n\nWhen we consider the very short time during which this persecution lasted,\nand the very slight notice that was taken of it, we may fairly, I think,\nconclude that it was not of a nature to check in any appreciable degree a\nstrong religious movement like that of Christianity. The assassination of\nDomitian introduces us to the golden age of the Roman Empire. In the eyes\nof the Pagan historian, the period from the accession of Nerva, in A.D.\n96, to the death of Marcus Aurelius, in A.D. 180, is memorable as a period\nof uniform good government, of rapidly advancing humanity, of great\nlegislative reforms, and of a peace which was very rarely seriously\nbroken. To the Christian historian it is still more remarkable, as one of\nthe most critical periods in the history of his faith. The Church entered\ninto it considerable indeed, as a sect, but not large enough to be\nreckoned an important power in the Empire. It emerged from it so increased\nin its numbers, and so extended in its ramifications, that it might fairly\ndefy the most formidable assaults. It remains, therefore, to be seen\nwhether the opposition against which, during these eighty-four years, it\nhad so successfully struggled was of such a kind and intensity that the\ntriumph must be regarded as a miracle.\n\nNearly at the close of this period, during the persecution of Marcus\nAurelius, St. Melito, Bishop of Sardis, wrote a letter of expostulation to\nthe emperor, in which he explicitly asserts that in Asia the persecution\nof the pious was an event which \u201chad never before occurred,\u201d and was the\nresult of \u201cnew and strange decrees;\u201d that the ancestors of the emperor\nwere accustomed to honour the Christian faith \u201clike other religions;\u201d and\nthat \u201cNero and Domitian alone\u201d had been hostile to it.(841) Rather more\nthan twenty years later, Tertullian asserted, in language equally distinct\nand emphatic, that the two persecutors of the Christians were Nero and\nDomitian, and that it would be impossible to name a single good sovereign\nwho had molested them. Marcus Aurelius himself, Tertullian refuses to\nnumber among the persecutors, and, even relying upon a letter which was\nfalsely imputed to him, enrols him among the protectors of the\nChurch.(842) About a century later, Lactantius, reviewing the history of\nthe persecutions, declared that the good sovereigns who followed Domitian\nabstained from persecuting, and passes at once from the persecution of\nDomitian to that of Decius. Having noticed the measures of the former\nemperor, he proceeds: \u201cThe acts of the tyrant being revoked, the Church\nwas not only restored to its former state, but shone forth with a greater\nsplendour and luxuriance; and a period following in which many good\nsovereigns wielded the Imperial sceptre, it suffered no assaults from its\nenemies, but stretched out its hands to the east and to the west; ... but\nat last the long peace was broken. After many years, that hateful monster\nDecius arose, who troubled the Church.\u201d(843)\n\nWe have here three separate passages, from which we may conclusively infer\nthat the normal and habitual condition of the Christians during the\neighty-four years we are considering, and, if we accept the last two\npassages, during a much longer period, was a condition of peace, but that\npeace was not absolutely unbroken. The Christian Church, which was at\nfirst regarded simply as a branch of Judaism, had begun to be recognised\nas a separate body, and the Roman law professedly tolerated only those\nreligions which were expressly authorised. It is indeed true that with the\nextension of the Empire, and especially of the city, the theory, or at\nleast the practice, of religious legislation had been profoundly modified.\nFirst of all, certain religions, of which the Jewish was one, were\nofficially recognised, and then many others, without being expressly\nauthorised, were tolerated. In this manner, all attempts to resist the\ntorrent of Oriental superstitions proving vain, the legislator had\ndesisted from his efforts, and every form of wild superstition was\npractised with publicity and impunity. Still the laws forbidding them were\nunrevoked, although they were suffered to remain for the most part\nobsolete, or were at least only put in action on the occasion of some\nspecial scandal, or of some real or apprehended political danger. The\nmunicipal and provincial independence under the Empire was, however, so\nlarge, that very much depended on the character of the local governor; and\nit continually happened that in one province the Christians were\nunmolested or favoured, while in the adjoining province they were severely\npersecuted.\n\nAs we have already seen, the Christians had for many reasons become\nprofoundly obnoxious to the people. They shared the unpopularity of the\nJews, with whom they were confounded, while the general credence given to\nthe calumnies about the crimes said to have been perpetrated at their\nsecret meetings, their abstinence from public amusements, and the belief\nthat their hostility to the gods was the cause of every physical calamity,\nwere special causes of antipathy. The history of the period of the\nAntonines continually manifests the desire of the populace to persecute,\nrestrained by the humanity of the rulers. In the short reign of Nerva\nthere appears to have been no persecution, and our knowledge of the\nofficial proceedings with reference to the religion is comprised in two\nsentences of a Pagan historian, who tells us that the emperor \u201cabsolved\nthose who had been convicted of impiety,\u201d and \u201cpermitted no one to be\nconvicted of impiety or Jewish rites.\u201d Under Trajan, however, some serious\nthough purely local disturbances took place. The emperor himself, though\none of the most sagacious, and in most respects humane of Roman\nsovereigns, was nervously jealous of any societies or associations among\nhis subjects, and had propounded a special edict against them; but the\npersecution of the Christians appears to have been not so much political\nas popular. If we may believe Eusebius, local persecutions, apparently of\nthe nature of riots, but sometimes countenanced by provincial governors,\nbroke out in several quarters of the Empire. In Bithynia, Pliny the\nYounger was the governor, and he wrote a very famous letter to Trajan, in\nwhich he professed himself absolutely ignorant of the proceedings to be\ntaken against the Christians, who had already so multiplied that the\ntemples were deserted, and who were arraigned in great numbers before his\ntribunal. He had, he says, released those who consented to burn incense\nbefore the image of the emperor, and to curse Christ, but had caused those\nto be executed who persisted in their refusal, and who were not Roman\ncitizens, \u201cnot doubting that a pertinacious obstinacy deserved\npunishment.\u201d He had questioned the prisoners as to the nature of their\nfaith, and had not hesitated to seek revelations by torturing two\nmaid-servants, but had \u201cdiscovered nothing but a base and immoderate\nsuperstition.\u201d He had asked the nature of their secret services, and had\nbeen told that they assembled on a certain day before dawn to sing a hymn\nto Christ as to a god; that they made a vow to abstain from every crime,\nand that they then, before parting, partook together of a harmless feast,\nwhich, however, they had given up since the decree against associations.\nTo this letter Trajan answered that Christians, if brought before the\ntribunals and convicted, should be punished, but that they should not be\nsought for; that, if they consented to sacrifice, no inquisition should be\nmade into their past lives, and that no anonymous accusations should be\nreceived against them.(844) In this reign there are two authentic\ninstances of martyrdom.(845) Simeon, Bishop of Jerusalem, a man, it is\nsaid, one hundred and twenty years old, having been accused by the\nheretics, was tortured during several days, and at last crucified.\nIgnatius, the Bishop of Antioch, was arrested, brought to Rome, and, by\nthe order of Trajan himself, thrown to wild beasts. Of the cause of this\nlast act of severity we are left in ignorance, but it has been noticed\nthat about this time Antioch had been the scene of one of those violent\nearthquakes which so frequently produced an outburst of religious\nexcitement,(846) and the character of Ignatius, who was passionately\ndesirous of martyrdom, may have very probably led him to some act of\nexceptional zeal. The letters of the martyr prove that at Rome the faith\nwas openly and fearlessly professed; the Government during the nineteen\nyears of this reign never appears to have taken any initiative against the\nChristians, and, in spite of occasional local tumults, there was nothing\nresembling a general persecution.\n\nDuring the two following reigns, the Government was more decidedly\nfavourable to the Christians. Hadrian, having heard that the populace at\nthe public games frequently called for their execution, issued an edict in\nwhich he commanded that none should be punished simply in obedience to the\noutcries against them, or without a formal trial and a conviction of some\noffence against the law, and he ordered that all false accusers should be\npunished.(847) His disposition towards the Christians was so pacific as to\ngive rise to a legend that he intended to enrol Christ among the\ngods;(848) but it is probable that, although curious on religious matters,\nhe regarded Christianity with the indifference of a Roman freethinker; and\na letter is ascribed to him in which he confounded it with the worship of\nSerapis.(849) As far as the Government were concerned, the Christians\nappear to have been entirely unmolested; but many of them suffered\ndreadful tortures at the hands of the Jewish insurgents, who in this\nreign, with a desperate but ill-fated heroism, made one last effort to\nregain their freedom.(850) The mutual hostility exhibited at this time by\nthe Jews and Christians contributed to separate them in the eyes of the\nPagans, and it is said that when Hadrian forbade the Jews ever again to\nenter Jerusalem, he recognised the distinction by granting a full\npermission to the Christians.(851)\n\nAntoninus, who succeeded Hadrian, made new efforts to restrain the\npassions of the people against the Christians. He issued an edict\ncommanding that they should not be molested, and when, as a consequence of\nsome earthquakes in Asia Minor, the popular anger was fiercely roused, he\ncommanded that their accusers should be punished.(852) If we except these\nriots, the twenty-three years of his reign appear to have been years of\nabsolute peace, which seems also to have continued during several years of\nthe reign of Marcus Aurelius; but at last persecuting edicts, of the exact\nnature of which we have no knowledge, were issued. Of the reasons which\ninduced one of the best men who have ever reigned to persecute the\nChristians, we know little or nothing. That it was not any ferocity of\ndisposition or any impatience of resistance may be confidently asserted of\none whose only fault was a somewhat excessive gentleness\u2014who, on the death\nof his wife, asked the Senate, as a single favour, to console him by\nsparing the lives of those who had rebelled against him. That it was not,\nas has been strangely urged, a religious fanaticism resembling that which\nled St. Lewis to persecute, is equally plain. St. Lewis persecuted because\nhe believed that to reject his religious opinions was a heinous crime, and\nthat heresy was the path to hell. Marcus Aurelius had no such belief, and\nhe, the first Roman emperor who made the Stoical philosophy his religion\nand his comfort, was also the first emperor who endowed the professors of\nthe philosophies that were most hostile to his own. The fact that the\nChristian Church, existing as a State within a State, with government,\nideals, enthusiasms, and hopes wholly different from those of the nation,\nwas incompatible with the existing system of the Empire, had become more\nevident as the Church increased. The accusations of cannibalism and\nincestuous impurity had acquired a greater consistency, and the latter are\nsaid to have been justly applicable to the Carpocratian heretics, who had\nrecently arisen. The Stoicism of Marcus Aurelius may have revolted from\nthe practices of exorcism or the appeals to the terrors of another world,\nand the philosophers who surrounded him probably stimulated his hostility,\nfor his master and friend Fronto had written a book against\nChristianity,(853) while Justin Martyr is said to have perished by the\nmachinations of the Cynic Crescens.(854) It must be added, too, that,\nwhile it is impossible to acquit the emperor of having issued severe\nedicts against the Christians,(855) the atrocious details of the\npersecutions in his reign were due to the ferocity of the populace and the\nweakness of the governors in distant provinces; and it is inconceivable\nthat, if he had been a very bitter enemy of the Christians, Tertullian,\nwriting little more than twenty years later, should have been so ignorant\nof the fact as to represent him as one of the most conspicuous of their\nprotectors.\n\nBut, whatever may be thought on these points, there can, unhappily, be no\nquestion that in this reign Rome was stained by the blood of Justin\nMartyr, the first philosopher, and one of the purest and gentlest natures\nin the Church, and that persecution was widely extended. In two far\ndistant quarters, at Smyrna and at Lyons, it far exceeded in atrocity any\nthat Christianity had endured since Nero, and in each case a heroism of\nthe most transcendent order was displayed by the martyrs. The persecution\nat Smyrna, in which St. Polycarp and many others most nobly died, took\nplace on the occasion of the public games, and we may trace the influence\nof the Jews in stimulating it.(856) The persecution at Lyons, which was\none of the most atrocious in the whole compass of ecclesiastical history,\nand which has supplied the martyrology with some of its grandest and most\npathetic figures, derived its worst features from a combination of the\nfury of the populace and of the subserviency of the governor.(857) Certain\nservants of the Christians, terrified by the prospect of torture, accused\ntheir masters of all the crimes which popular report attributed to them,\nof incest, of infanticide, of cannibalism, of hideous impurity. A fearful\noutburst of ferocity ensued. Tortures almost too horrible to recount were\nfor hours and even days applied to the bodies of old men and of weak\nwomen, who displayed amid their agonies a nobler courage than has ever\nshone upon a battle-field, and whose memories are immortal among mankind.\nBlandina and Pothinus wrote in blood the first page of the glorious\nhistory of the Church of France.(858) But although, during the closing\nyears of Marcus Aurelius, severe persecutions took place in three or four\nprovinces, there was no general and organised effort to suppress\nChristianity throughout the Empire.(859)\n\nWe may next consider, as a single period, the space of time that elapsed\nfrom the death of Marcus Aurelius, in A.D. 180, to the accession of\nDecius, A.D. 249. During all this time Christianity was a great and\npowerful body, exercising an important influence, and during a great part\nof it Christians filled high civil and military positions. The hostility\nmanifested towards them began now to assume a more political complexion\nthan it had previously done, except perhaps in the later years of Marcus\nAurelius. The existence of a vast and rapidly increasing corporation, very\nalien to the system of the Empire, confronted every ruler. Emperors like\nCommodus or Heliogabalus were usually too immersed in selfish pleasures to\nhave any distinct policy; but sagacious sovereigns, sincerely desiring the\nwell-being of the Empire, either, like Marcus Aurelius and Diocletian,\nendeavoured to repress the rising creed, or, like Alexander Severus, and\nat last Constantine, actively encouraged it. The measures Marcus Aurelius\nhad taken against Christianity were arrested under Commodus, whose\nfavourite mistress, Marcia, supplies one of the very few recorded\ninstances of female influence, which has been the cause of so much\npersecution, being exerted in behalf of toleration;(860) yet a Christian\nphilosopher named Apollonius, and at the same time, by a curious\nretribution, his accuser, were in this reign executed at Rome.(861) During\nthe sixty-nine years we are considering, the general peace of the Church\nwas only twice broken. The first occasion was in the reign of Septimus\nSeverus, who was for some time very favourable to the Christians, but who,\nin A.D. 202 or 203, issued an edict, forbidding any Pagan to join the\nChristian or Jewish faith;(862) and this edict was followed by a\nsanguinary persecution in Africa and Syria, in which the father of Origen,\nand also St. Felicitas and St. Perpetua, perished. This persecution does\nnot appear to have extended to the West, and was apparently rather the\nwork of provincial governors, who interpreted the Imperial edict as a sign\nof hostility to the Christians, than the direct act of the emperor,(863)\nwhose decree applied only to Christians actively proselytising. It is\nworthy of notice that Origen observed that previous to this time the\nnumber of Christian martyrs had been very small.(864) The second\npersecution was occasioned by the murder of Alexander Severus by\nMaximinus. The usurper pursued with great bitterness the leading courtiers\nof the deceased emperor, among whom were some Christian bishops,(865) and\nabout the same time severe earthquakes in Pontus and Cappadocia produced\nthe customary popular ebullitions. But with these exceptions the\nChristians were undisturbed. Caracalla, Macrinus, and Heliogabalus took no\nmeasures against them, while Alexander Severus, who reigned for thirteen\nyears, warmly and steadily supported them. A Pagan historian assures us\nthat this emperor intended to build temples in honour of Christ, but was\ndissuaded by the priests, who urged that all the other temples would be\ndeserted. He venerated in his private oratory the statues of Apollonius of\nTyana, Abraham, Orpheus, and Christ. He decreed that the provincial\ngovernors should not be appointed till the people had the opportunity of\ndeclaring any crime they had committed, borrowing this rule avowedly from\nthe procedure of the Jews and Christians in electing their clergy; he\nordered the precept \u201cDo not unto others what you would not that they\nshould do unto you\u201d to be engraven on the palace and other public\nbuildings, and he decided a dispute concerning a piece of ground which the\nChristians had occupied, and which the owners of certain eating-houses\nclaimed, in favour of the former, on the ground that the worship of a god\nshould be most considered.(866) Philip the Arab, who reigned during the\nlast five years of the period we are considering, was so favourable to the\nChristians that he was believed, though on no trustworthy evidence, to\nhave been baptised.\n\nWe have now reviewed the history of the persecutions to the year A.D. 249,\nor about two hundred years after the planting of Christianity in Rome. We\nhave seen that, although during that period much suffering was\noccasionally endured, and much heroism displayed, by the Christians, there\nwas, with the very doubtful exception of the Neronian persecution, no\nsingle attempt made to suppress Christianity throughout the Empire. Local\npersecutions of great severity had taken place at Smyrna and Lyons, under\nMarcus Aurelius; in Africa and some Asiatic provinces, under Severus;\npopular tumults, arising in the excitement of the public games, or\nproduced by some earthquake or inundation, or by some calumnious\naccusation, were not unfrequent; but there was at no time that continuous,\norganised, and universal persecution by which, in later periods,\necclesiastical tribunals have again and again suppressed opinions\nrepugnant to their own; and there was no part of the Empire in which whole\ngenerations did not pass away absolutely undisturbed. No martyr had fallen\nin Gaul or in great part of Asia Minor till Marcus Aurelius. In Italy,\nafter the death of Nero, with the exception of some slight troubles under\nDomitian and Maximinus, probably due to causes altogether distinct from\nreligion, there were, during the whole period we are considering, only a\nfew isolated instances of martyrdom. The bishops, as the leaders of the\nChurch, were the special objects of hostility, and several in different\nparts of the world had fallen; but it is extremely questionable whether\nany Roman bishop perished after the apostolic age, till Fabianus was\nmartyred under Decius.(867) If Christianity was not formally authorised,\nit was, like many other religions in a similar position, generally\nacquiesced in, and, during a great part of the time we have reviewed, its\nprofessors appear to have found no obstacles to their preferment in the\nCourt or in the army. The emperors were for the most part indifferent or\nfavourable to them. The priests in the Pagan society had but little\ninfluence, and do not appear to have taken any prominent part in the\npersecution till near the time of Diocletian. With the single exception of\nthe Jews, no class held that doctrine of the criminality of error which\nhas been the parent of most modern persecutions; and although the belief\nthat great calamities were the result of neglecting or insulting the gods\nfurnished the Pagans with a religious motive for persecution, this motive\nonly acted on the occasion of some rare and exceptional catastrophe.(868)\nIn Christian times, the first objects of the persecutor are to control\neducation, to prevent the publication of any heterodox works, to institute\nsuch a minute police inspection as to render impossible the celebration of\nthe worship he desires to suppress. But nothing of this kind was\nattempted, or indeed was possible, in the period we are considering. With\nthe exception of the body-guard of the emperor, almost the whole army,\nwhich was of extremely moderate dimensions, was massed along the vast\nfrontier of the Empire. The police force was of the scantiest kind,\nsufficient only to keep common order in the streets. The Government had\ndone something to encourage, but absolutely nothing to control, education,\nand parents or societies were at perfect liberty to educate the young as\nthey pleased. The expansion of literature, by reason of the facilities\nwhich slavery gave to transcription, was very great, and it was for the\nmost part entirely uncontrolled.(869) Augustus, it is true, had caused\nsome volumes of forged prophecies to be burnt,(870) and, under the tyranny\nof Tiberius and Domitian, political writers and historians who eulogised\ntyrannicide, or vehemently opposed the Empire, were persecuted; but the\nextreme indignation these acts elicited attests their rarity, and, on\nmatters unconnected with politics, the liberty of literature was\nabsolute.(871) In a word, the Church proselytised in a society in which\ntoleration was the rule, and at a time when municipal, provincial, and\npersonal independence had reached the highest point, when the ruling\nclasses were for the most part absolutely indifferent to religious\nopinions, and when an unprecedented concourse of influences facilitated\nits progress.\n\nWhen we reflect that these were the circumstances of the Church till the\nmiddle of the third century, we may readily perceive the absurdity of\nmaintaining that Christianity was propagated in the face of such a fierce\nand continuous persecution that no opinions could have survived it without\na miracle, or of arguing from the history of the early Church that\npersecution never has any real efficacy in suppressing truth. When, in\naddition to the circumstances under which it operated, we consider the\nunexampled means both of attraction and of intimidation that were\npossessed by the Church, we can have no difficulty in understanding that\nit should have acquired a magnitude that would enable it to defy the far\nmore serious assaults it was still destined to endure. That it had\nacquired this extension we have abundant evidence. The language I have\nquoted from Lactantius is but a feeble echo of the emphatic statements of\nwriters before the Decian persecution.(872) \u201cThere is no race of men,\nwhether Greek or barbarian,\u201d said Justin Martyr, \u201camong whom prayers and\nthanks are not offered up in the name of the crucified.\u201d(873) \u201cWe are but\nof yesterday,\u201d cried Tertullian, \u201cand we fill all your cities, islands,\nforts, councils, even the camps themselves, the tribes, the decuries, the\npalaces, the senate, and the forum.\u201d(874) Eusebius has preserved a letter\nof Cornelius, Bishop of Rome, containing a catalogue of the officers of\nhis Church at the time of the Decian persecution. It consisted of one\nbishop, forty-six presbyters, seven deacons, seven subdeacons, forty-two\nacolytes, fifty-two exorcists, readers, and janitors. The Church also\nsupported more than fifteen hundred widows, and poor or suffering\npersons.(875)\n\nThe Decian persecution, which broke out in A.D. 249, and was probably\nbegun in hopes of restoring the Empire to its ancient discipline, and\neliminating from it all extraneous and unpatriotic influences,(876) is the\nfirst example of a deliberate attempt, supported by the whole machinery of\nprovincial government, and extending over the entire surface of the\nEmpire, to extirpate Christianity from the world. It would be difficult to\nfind language too strong to paint its horrors. The ferocious instincts of\nthe populace, that were long repressed, burst out anew, and they were not\nonly permitted, but encouraged by the rulers. Far worse than the deaths\nwhich menaced those who shrank from the idolatrous sacrifices, were the\nhideous and prolonged tortures by which the magistrates often sought to\nsubdue the constancy of the martyr, the nameless outrages that were\nsometimes inflicted on the Christian virgin.(877) The Church, enervated by\na long peace, and deeply infected with the vices of the age, tottered\nbeneath the blow. It had long since arrived at the period when men were\nChristians not by conviction, but through family relationship; when the\nmore opulent Christians vied in luxury with the Pagans among whom they\nmixed, and when even the bishops were, in many instances, worldly\naspirants after civil offices. It is not, therefore, surprising that the\ndefection was very large. The Pagans marked with triumphant ridicule, and\nthe Fathers with a burning indignation, the thousands who thronged to the\naltars at the very commencement of persecution, the sudden collapse of the\nmost illustrious churches, the eagerness with which the offer of\nprovincial governors to furnish certificates of apostasy, without exacting\na compliance with the conditions which those certificates attested, was\naccepted by multitudes.(878) The question whether those who abandoned the\nfaith should afterwards be readmitted to communion, became the chief\nquestion that divided the Novatians, and one of the questions that divided\nthe Montanists from the Catholics, while the pretensions of the confessors\nto furnish indulgences, remitting the penances imposed by the bishops, led\nto a conflict which contributed very largely to establish the undisputed\nascendancy of the episcopacy. But the Decian persecution, though it\nexhibits the Church in a somewhat less noble attitude than the\npersecutions which preceded and which followed it, was adorned by many\nexamples of extreme courage and devotion, displayed in not a few cases by\nthose who were physically among the frailest of mankind. It was of a kind\neminently fitted to crush the Church. Had it taken place at an earlier\nperiod, had it been continued for a long succession of years,\nChristianity, without a miracle, must have perished. But the Decian\npersecution fell upon a Church which had existed for two centuries, and it\nlasted less than two years.(879) Its intensity varied much in different\nprovinces. In Alexandria and the neighbouring towns, where a popular\ntumult had anticipated the menaces of the Government, it was extremely\nhorrible.(880) In Carthage, at first, the proconsul being absent, no\ncapital sentence was passed, but on the arrival of that functionary the\npenalty of death, accompanied by dreadful tortures, was substituted for\nthat of exile or imprisonment.(881) The rage of the people was especially\ndirected against the bishop St. Cyprian, who prudently retired till the\nstorm had passed.(882) In general, it was observed that the object of the\nrulers was much less to slay than to vanquish the Christians. Horrible\ntortures were continually employed to extort an apostasy, and, when those\ntortures proved vain, great numbers were ultimately released.\n\nThe Decian persecution is remarkable in Christian arch\u00e6ology as being, it\nis believed, the first occasion in which the Christian catacombs were\nviolated. Those vast subterranean corridors, lined with tombs and\nexpanding very frequently into small chapels adorned with paintings, often\nof no mean beauty, had for a long period been an inviolable asylum in\nseasons of persecution. The extreme sanctity which the Romans were\naccustomed to attach to the place of burial repelled the profane, and as\nearly, it is said, as the very beginning of the third century, the\ncatacombs were recognised as legal possessions of the Church.(883) The\nRoman legislators, however unfavourable to the formation of guilds or\nassociations, made an exception in favour of burial societies, or\nassociations of men subscribing a certain sum to ensure to each member a\ndecent burial in ground which belonged to the corporation. The Church is\nbelieved to have availed itself of this privilege, and to have attained,\nin this capacity, a legal existence. The tombs, which were originally the\nproperties of distinct families, became in this manner an ecclesiastical\ndomain, and the catacombs were, from perhaps the first, made something\nmore than places of burial.(884) The chapels with which they abound, and\nwhich are of the smallest dimensions and utterly unfit for general\nworship, were probably mortuary chapels, and may have also been employed\nin the services commemorating the martyrs, while the ordinary worship was\nprobably at first conducted in the private houses of the Christians. The\ndecision of Alexander Severus, which I have already noticed, is the\nearliest notice we possess of the existence of buildings specially devoted\nto the Christian services; but we cannot tell how long before this time\nthey may have existed in Rome.(885) In serious persecution, however, they\nwould doubtless have to be abandoned; and, as a last resort, the catacombs\nproved a refuge from the persecutors.\n\nThe reign of Decius only lasted about two years, and before its close the\npersecution had almost ceased.(886) On the accession of his son Gallus, in\nthe last month of A.D. 251, there was for a short time perfect peace; but\nGallus resumed the persecution in the spring of the following year, and\nalthough apparently not very severe, or very general, it seems to have\ncontinued to his death, which took place a year after.(887) Two Roman\nbishops, Cornelius, who had succeeded the martyred Fabianus, and his\nsuccessor Lucius, were at this time put to death.(888) Valerian, who\nascended the throne A.D. 254, at first not only tolerated, but warmly\npatronised the Christians, and attracted so many to his Court that his\nhouse, in the language of a contemporary, appeared \u201cthe Church of the\nLord.\u201d(889) But after rather more than four years his disposition changed.\nAt the persuasion, it is said, of an Egyptian magician, named Macrianus,\nhe signed in A.D. 258 an edict of persecution condemning Christian\necclesiastics and senators to death, and other Christians to exile, or to\nthe forfeiture of their property, and prohibiting them from entering the\ncatacombs.(890) A sanguinary and general persecution ensued. Among the\nvictims were Sixtus, the Bishop of Rome, who perished in the\ncatacombs,(891) and Cyprian, who was exiled, and afterwards beheaded, and\nwas the first Bishop of Carthage who suffered martyrdom.(892) At last,\nValerian, having been captured by the Persians, Gallienus, in A.D. 260,\nascended the throne, and immediately proclaimed a perfect toleration of\nthe Christians.(893)\n\nThe period from the accession of Decius, in A.D. 249, to the accession of\nGallienus, in A.D. 260, which I have now very briefly noticed, was by far\nthe most disastrous the Church had yet endured. With the exception of\nabout five years in the reigns of Gallus and Valerian, the persecution was\ncontinuous, though it varied much in its intensity and its range. During\nthe first portion, if measured, not by the number of deaths, but by the\natrocity of the tortures inflicted, it was probably as severe as any upon\nrecord. It was subsequently directed chiefly against the leading clergy,\nand, as we have seen, four Roman bishops perished. In addition to the\npolitical reasons that inspired it, the popular fanaticism caused by great\ncalamities, which were ascribed to anger of the gods at the neglect of\ntheir worship, had in this as in former periods a great influence.\nPolitical disasters, which foreshadowed clearly the approaching downfall\nof the Empire, were followed by fearful and general famines and plagues.\nSt. Cyprian, in a treatise addressed to one of the persecutors who was\nmost confident in ascribing these things to the Christians, presents us\nwith an extremely curious picture both of the general despondency that had\nfallen upon the Empire, and of the manner in which these calamities were\nregarded by the Christians. Like most of his co-religionists, the saint\nwas convinced that the closing scene of the earth was at hand. The\ndecrepitude of the world, he said, had arrived, the forces of nature were\nalmost exhausted, the sun had no longer its old lustre, or the soil its\nold fertility, the spring time had grown less lovely, and the autumn less\nbounteous, the energy of man had decayed, and all things were moving\nrapidly to the end. Famines and plagues were the precursors of the day of\njudgment. They were sent to warn and punish a rebellious world, which,\nstill bowing down before idols, persecuted the believers in the truth. \u201cSo\ntrue is this, that the Christians are never persecuted without the sky\nmanifesting at once the Divine displeasure.\u201d The conception of a converted\nEmpire never appears to have flashed across the mind of the saint;(894)\nthe only triumph he predicted for the Church was that of another world;\nand to the threats of the persecutors he rejoined by fearful menaces. \u201cA\nburning, scorching fire will for ever torment those who are condemned;\nthere will be no respite or end to their torments. We shall through\neternity contemplate in their agonies those who for a short time\ncontemplated us in tortures, and for the brief pleasure which the\nbarbarity of our persecutors took in feasting their eyes upon an inhuman\nspectacle, they will be themselves exposed as an eternal spectacle of\nagony.\u201d As a last warning, calamity after calamity broke upon the world,\nand, with the solemnity of one on whom the shadow of death had already\nfallen, St. Cyprian adjured the persecutors to repent and to be\nsaved.(895)\n\nThe accession of Gallienus introduced the Church to a new period of\nperfect peace, which, with a single inconsiderable exception, continued\nfor no less than forty years. The exception was furnished by Aurelian, who\nduring nearly the whole of his reign had been exceedingly favourable to\nthe Christians, and had even been appealed to by the orthodox bishops, who\ndesired him to expel from Antioch a prelate they had excommunicated for\nheresy,(896) but who, at the close of his reign, intended to persecute. He\nwas assassinated, however, according to one account, when he was just\nabout to sign the decrees; according to another, before they had been sent\nthrough the provinces; and if any persecution actually took place, it was\naltogether inconsiderable.(897) Christianity, during all this time, was\nnot only perfectly free, it was greatly honoured. Christians were\nappointed governors of the provinces, and were expressly exonerated from\nthe duty of sacrificing. The bishops were treated by the civil authorities\nwith profound respect. The palaces of the emperor were filled with\nChristian servants, who were authorised freely to profess their religion,\nand were greatly valued for their fidelity. The popular prejudice seems to\nhave been lulled to rest; and it has been noticed that the rapid progress\nof the faith excited no tumult or hostility. Spacious churches were\nerected in every quarter, and they could scarcely contain the multitude of\nworshippers.(898) In Rome itself, before the outburst of the Diocletian\npersecution, there were no less than forty churches.(899) The Christians\nmay still have been outnumbered by the Pagans; but when we consider their\norganisation, their zeal, and their rapid progress, a speedy triumph\nappeared inevitable.\n\nBut before that triumph was achieved a last and a terrific ordeal was to\nbe undergone. Diocletian, whose name has been somewhat unjustly associated\nwith a persecution, the responsibility of which belongs far more to his\ncolleague Galerius, having left the Christians in perfect peace for nearly\neighteen years, suffered himself to be persuaded to make one more effort\nto eradicate the foreign creed. This emperor, who had risen by his merits\nfrom the humblest position, exhibited in all the other actions of his\nreign a moderate, placable, and conspicuously humane nature, and, although\nhe greatly magnified the Imperial authority, the simplicity of his private\nlife, his voluntary abdication, and, above all, his singularly noble\nconduct during many years of retirement, displayed a rare magnanimity of\ncharacter. As a politician, he deserves, I think, to rank very high.\nAntoninus and Marcus Aurelius had been too fascinated by the traditions of\nthe Republic, and by the austere teaching and retrospective spirit of the\nStoics, to realise the necessity of adapting institutions to the wants of\na luxurious and highly civilised people, and they therefore had little\npermanent influence upon the destinies of the Empire. But Diocletian\ninvariably exhibited in his legislation a far-seeing and comprehensive\nmind, well aware of the condition of the society he ruled, and provident\nof distant events. Perceiving that Roman corruption was incurable, he\nattempted to regenerate the Empire by creating new centres of political\nlife in the great and comparatively unperverted capitals of the provinces;\nand Nicomedia, which was his habitual residence, Carthage, Milan, and\nRavenna, all received abundant tokens of his favour. He swept away or\ndisregarded the obsolete and inefficient institutions of Republican\nliberty that still remained, and indeed gave his government a somewhat\nOriental character; but, at the same time, by the bold, and, it must be\nadmitted, very perilous measure of dividing the Empire into four sections,\nhe abridged the power of each ruler, ensured the better supervision and\nincreased authority of the provinces, and devised the first effectual\ncheck to those military revolts which had for some time been threatening\nthe Empire with anarchy. With the same energetic statesmanship, we find\nhim reorganising the whole system of taxation, and attempting, less\nwisely, to regulate commercial transactions. To such an emperor, the\nproblem presented by the rapid progress and the profoundly anti-national\ncharacter of Christianity must have been a matter of serious\nconsideration, and the weaknesses of his character were most unfavourable\nto the Church; for Diocletian, with many noble qualities of heart and\nhead, was yet superstitious, tortuous, nervous, and vacillating, and was\ntoo readily swayed by the rude and ferocious soldier, who was impetuously\ninciting him against the Christians.\n\nThe extreme passion which Galerius displayed on this subject is ascribed,\nin the first instance, to the influence of his mother, who was ardently\ndevoted to the Pagan worship. He is himself painted in dark colours by the\nChristian writers as a man of boundless and unbridled sensuality, of an\nimperiousness that rose to fury at opposition, and of a cruelty which had\nlong passed the stage of callousness, and become a fiendish delight, in\nthe infliction and contemplation of suffering.(900) His strong attachment\nto Paganism made him at length the avowed representative of his party,\nwhich several causes had contributed to strengthen. The philosophy of the\nEmpire had by this time fully passed into its Neoplatonic and Pythagorean\nphases, and was closely connected with religious observances. Hierocles\nand Porphyry, who were among its most eminent exponents, had both written\nbooks against Christianity, and the Oriental religions fostered much\nfanaticism among the people. Political interests united with superstition,\nfor the Christians were now a very formidable body in the State. Their\ninterests were supposed to be represented by the C\u00e6sar Constantius\nChlorus, and the religion was either adopted, or at least warmly favoured,\nby the wife and daughter of Diocletian (the latter of whom was married to\nGalerius(901)), and openly professed by some of the leading officials at\nthe Court. A magnificent church crowned the hill facing the palace of the\nemperor at Nicomedia. The bishops were, in most cities, among the most\nactive and influential citizens, and their influence was not always\nexercised for good. A few cases, in which an ill-considered zeal led\nChristians to insult the Pagan worship, one or two instances of Christians\nrefusing to serve in the army, because they believed military life\nrepugnant to their creed, a scandalous relaxation of morals, that had\narisen during the long peace, and the fierce and notorious discord\ndisplayed by the leaders of the Church, contributed in different ways to\naccelerate the persecution.(902)\n\nFor a considerable time Diocletian resisted all the urgency of Galerius\nagainst the Christians, and the only measure taken was the dismissal by\nthe latter sovereign of a number of Christian officers from the army. In\nA.D. 303, however, Diocletian yielded to the entreaties of his colleague,\nand a fearful persecution, which many circumstances conspired to\nstimulate, began. The priests, in one of the public ceremonies, had\ndeclared that the presence of Christians prevented the entrails from\nshowing the accustomed signs. The oracle of Apollo, at Miletus, being\nconsulted by Diocletian, exhorted him to persecute the Christians. A\nfanatical Christian, who avowed his deed, and expiated it by a fearful\ndeath, tore down the first edict of persecution, and replaced it by a\nbitter taunt against the emperor. Twice, after the outburst of the\npersecution, the palace at Nicomedia, where Diocletian and Galerius were\nresiding, was set on fire, and the act was ascribed, not without\nprobability, to a Christian hand, as were also some slight disturbances\nthat afterwards arose in Syria.(903) Edict after edict followed in rapid\nsuccession. The first ordered the destruction of all Christian churches\nand of all Bibles, menaced with death the Christians if they assembled in\nsecret for Divine worship, and deprived them of all civil rights. A second\nedict ordered all ecclesiastics to be thrown into prison, while a third\nedict ordered that these prisoners, and a fourth edict that all\nChristians, should be compelled by torture to sacrifice. At first\nDiocletian refused to permit their lives to be taken, but after the fire\nat Nicomedia this restriction was removed. Many were burnt alive, and the\ntortures by which the persecutors sought to shake their resolution were so\ndreadful that even such a death seemed an act of mercy. The only province\nof the Empire where the Christians were at peace was Gaul, which had\nreceived its baptism of blood under Marcus Aurelius, but was now governed\nby Constantius Chlorus, who protected them from personal molestation,\nthough he was compelled, in obedience to the emperor, to destroy their\nchurches. In Spain, which was also under the government, but not under the\ndirect inspection, of Constantius, the persecution was moderate, but in\nall other parts of the Empire it raged with fierceness till the abdication\nof Diocletian in 305. This event almost immediately restored peace to the\nWestern provinces,(904) but greatly aggravated the misfortunes of the\nEastern Christians, who passed under the absolute rule of Galerius.\nHorrible, varied, and prolonged tortures were employed to quell their\nfortitude, and their final resistance was crowned by the most dreadful of\nall deaths, roasting over a slow fire. It was not till A.D. 311, eight\nyears after the commencement of the general persecution, ten years after\nthe first measure against the Christians, that the Eastern persecution\nceased. Galerius, the arch-enemy of the Christians, was struck down by a\nfearful disease. His body, it is said, became a mass of loathsome and\nf\u0153tid sores\u2014a living corpse, devoured by countless worms, and exhaling the\nodour of the charnel-house. He who had shed so much innocent blood, shrank\nhimself from a Roman death. In his extreme anguish he appealed in turn to\nphysician after physician, and to temple after temple. At last he relented\ntowards the Christians. He issued a proclamation restoring them to\nliberty, permitting them to rebuild their churches, and asking their\nprayers for his recovery.(905) The era of persecution now closed. One\nbrief spasm, indeed, due to the C\u00e6sar Maximian, shot through the long\nafflicted Church of Asia Minor;(906) but it was rapidly allayed. The\naccession of Constantine, the proclamation of Milan, A.D. 313, the defeat\nof Licinius, and the conversion of the conqueror, speedily followed, and\nChristianity became the religion of the Empire.\n\nSuch, so far as we can trace it, is the outline of the last and most\nterrible persecution inflicted on the early Church. Unfortunately we can\nplace little reliance on any information we possess about the number of\nits victims, the provocations that produced it, or the objects of its\nauthors. The ecclesiastical account of these matters is absolutely\nunchecked by any Pagan statement, and it is derived almost exclusively\nfrom the history of Eusebius, and from the treatise \u201cOn the Deaths of the\nPersecutors,\u201d which is ascribed to Lactantius. Eusebius was a writer of\ngreat learning, and of critical abilities not below the very low level of\nhis time, and he had personal knowledge of some of the events in Palestine\nwhich he has recorded; but he had no pretensions whatever to impartiality.\nHe has frankly told us that his principle in writing history was to\nconceal the facts that were injurious to the reputation of the\nChurch;(907) and although his practice was sometimes better than his\nprinciple, the portrait he has drawn of the saintly virtues of his patron\nConstantine, which we are able to correct from other sources, abundantly\nproves with how little scruple the courtly bishop could stray into the\npaths of fiction. The treatise of Lactantius, which has been well termed\n\u201ca party pamphlet,\u201d is much more untrustworthy. It is a hymn of exultation\nover the disastrous ends of the persecutors, and especially of Galerius,\nwritten in a strain of the fiercest and most passionate invective, and\nbearing on every page unequivocal signs of inaccuracy and exaggeration.\nThe whole history of the early persecution was soon enveloped in a thick\ncloud of falsehood. A notion, derived from prophecy, that ten great\npersecutions must precede the day of judgment, at an early period\nstimulated the imagination of the Christians, who believed that day to be\nimminent; and it was natural that as time rolled on men should magnify the\nsufferings that had been endured, and that in credulous and uncritical\nages a single real incident should be often multiplied, diversified, and\nexaggerated in many distinct narratives. Monstrous fictions, such as the\ncrucifixion of ten thousand Christians upon Mount Ararat under Trajan, the\nletter of Tiberianus to Trajan, complaining that he was weary of\nceaselessly killing Christians in Palestine, and the Theban legion of six\nthousand men, said to have been massacred by Maximilian, were boldly\npropagated and readily believed.(908) The virtue supposed to attach to the\nbones of martyrs, and the custom, and, after a decree of the second\nCouncil of Nice, in the eighth century, the obligation, of placing saintly\nremains under every altar, led to an immense multiplication of spurious\nrelics, and a corresponding demand for legends. Almost every hamlet soon\nrequired a patron martyr and a local legend, which the nearest monastery\nwas usually ready to supply. The monks occupied their time in composing\nand disseminating innumerable acts of martyrs, which purported to be\nstrictly historical, but which were, in fact, deliberate, though it was\nthought edifying, forgeries; and pictures of hideous tortures, enlivened\nby fantastic miracles, soon became the favourite popular literature. To\ndiscriminate accurately the genuine acts of martyrs from the immense mass\nthat were fabricated by the monks, has been attempted by Ruinart, but is\nperhaps impossible. Modern criticism has, however, done much to reduce the\nancient persecutions to their true dimensions. The famous essay of\nDodwell, which appeared towards the close of the seventeenth century,\nthough written, I think, a little in the spirit of a special pleader, and\nnot free from its own exaggerations, has had a great and abiding influence\nupon ecclesiastical history, and the still more famous chapter which\nGibbon devoted to the subject rendered the conclusions of Dodwell familiar\nto the world.\n\nNotwithstanding the great knowledge and critical acumen displayed in this\nchapter, few persons, I imagine, can rise from its perusal without a\nfeeling both of repulsion and dissatisfaction. The complete absence of all\nsympathy with the heroic courage manifested by the martyrs, and the frigid\nand, in truth, most unphilosophical severity with which the historian has\nweighed the words and actions of men engaged in the agonies of a deadly\nstruggle, must repel every generous nature, while the persistence with\nwhich he estimates persecutions by the number of deaths rather than by the\namount of suffering, diverts the mind from the really distinctive\natrocities of the Pagan persecutions. He has observed, that while the\nanger of the persecutors was at all times especially directed against the\nbishops, we know from Eusebius that only nine bishops were put to death in\nthe entire Diocletian persecution, and that the particular enumeration,\nwhich the historian made on the spot, of all the martyrs who perished\nduring this persecution in Palestine, which was under the government of\nGalerius, and was therefore exposed to the full fury of the storm, shows\nthe entire number to have been ninety-two. Starting from this fact,\nGibbon, by a well-known process of calculation, has estimated the probable\nnumber of martyrs in the whole Empire, during the Diocletian persecution,\nat about two thousand, which happens to be the number of persons burnt by\nthe Spanish Inquisition during the presidency of Torquemada alone,(909)\nand about one twenty-fifth of the number who are said to have suffered for\ntheir religion in the Netherlands in the reign of Charles V.(910) But\nalthough, if measured by the number of martyrs, the persecutions inflicted\nby Pagans were less terrible than those inflicted by Christians, there is\none aspect in which the former appear by far the more atrocious, and a\ntruthful historian should suffer no false delicacy to prevent him from\nunflinchingly stating it. The conduct of the provincial governors, even\nwhen they were compelled by the Imperial edicts to persecute, was often\nconspicuously merciful. The Christian records contain several examples of\nrulers who refused to search out the Christians, who discountenanced or\neven punished their accusers, who suggested ingenious evasions of the law,\nwho tried by earnest and patient kindness to overcome what they regarded\nas insane obstinacy, and who, when their efforts had proved vain,\nmitigated by their own authority the sentence they were compelled to\npronounce. It was only on very rare occasions that any, except conspicuous\nleaders of the Church, and sometimes persons of a servile condition, were\nin danger; the time that was conceded them before their trials gave them\ngreat facilities for escaping, and, even when condemned, Christian women\nhad usually full permission to visit them in their prisons, and to console\nthem by their charity. But, on the other hand, Christian writings, which\nit is impossible to dispute, continually record barbarities inflicted upon\nconverts, so ghastly and so hideous that the worst horrors of the\nInquisition pale before them. It is, indeed, true that burning heretics by\na slow fire was one of the accomplishments of the Inquisitors, and that\nthey were among the most consummate masters of torture of their age. It is\ntrue that in one Catholic country they introduced the atrocious custom of\nmaking the spectacle of men burnt alive for their religious opinions an\nelement in the public festivities.(911) It is true, too, that the immense\nmajority of the acts of the martyrs are the transparent forgeries of lying\nmonks; but it is also true that among the authentic records of Pagan\npersecutions there are histories which display, perhaps more vividly than\nany other, both the depth of cruelty to which human nature may sink, and\nthe heroism of resistance it may attain. There was a time when it was the\njust boast of the Romans, that no refinements of cruelty, no prolongations\nof torture, were admitted in their stern but simple penal code. But all\nthis was changed. Those hateful games, which made the spectacle of human\nsuffering and death the delight of all classes, had spread their\nbrutalising influence wherever the Roman name was known, had rendered\nmillions absolutely indifferent to the sight of human suffering, had\nproduced in many, in the very centre of an advanced civilisation, a relish\nand a passion for torture, a rapture and an exultation in watching the\nspasms of extreme agony, such as an African or an American savage alone\ncan equal. The most horrible recorded instances of torture were usually\ninflicted, either by the populace, or in their presence, in the\narena.(912) We read of Christians bound in chairs of red-hot iron, while\nthe stench of their half-consumed flesh rose in a suffocating cloud to\nheaven; of others who were torn to the very bone by shells, or hooks of\niron; of holy virgins given over to the lust of the gladiator, or to the\nmercies of the pander; of two hundred and twenty-seven converts sent on\none occasion to the mines, each with the sinews of one leg severed by a\nred-hot iron, and with an eye scooped from its socket; of fires so slow\nthat the victims writhed for hours in their agonies; of bodies torn limb\nfrom limb, or sprinkled with burning lead; of mingled salt and vinegar\npoured over the flesh that was bleeding from the rack; of tortures\nprolonged and varied through entire days. For the love of their Divine\nMaster, for the cause they believed to be true, men, and even weak girls,\nendured these things without flinching, when one word would have freed\nthem from their sufferings. No opinion we may form of the proceedings of\npriests in a later age should impair the reverence with which we bend\nbefore the martyr\u2019s tomb.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n    1 The opinions of Hume on moral questions are grossly misrepresented\n      by many writers, who persist in describing them as substantially\n      identical with those of Bentham. How far Hume was from denying the\n      existence of a moral sense, the following passages will show:\u2014\u201cThe\n      final sentence, it is probable, which pronounces characters and\n      actions amiable or odious, praiseworthy or blameable ... depends on\n      some internal sense or feeling which nature has made universal in\n      the whole species.\u201d\u2014_Enquiry Concerning Morals_, \u00a7 1. \u201cThe\n      hypothesis we embrace ... defines virtue to be whatever mental\n      action or quality gives to the spectator the pleasing sentiment of\n      approbation.\u201d\u2014Ibid. Append. I. \u201cThe crime or immorality is no\n      particular fact or relation which can be the object of the\n      understanding, but arises entirely from the sentiment of\n      disapprobation, which, by the structure of human nature, we\n      unavoidably feel on the apprehension of barbarity or\n      treachery.\u201d\u2014Ibid. \u201cReason instructs us in the several tendencies of\n      actions, and humanity makes a distinction in favour of those which\n      are useful and beneficial.\u201d\u2014Ibid. \u201cAs virtue is an end, and is\n      desirable on its own account without fee or reward, merely for the\n      immediate satisfaction it conveys, it is requisite that there should\n      be some sentiment which it touches, some internal taste or feeling,\n      or whatever you please to call it, which distinguishes moral good\n      and evil, and which embraces the one and rejects the other.\u201d\u2014Ibid.\n      The two writers to whom Hume was most indebted were Hutcheson and\n      Butler. In some interesting letters to the former (Burton\u2019s _Life of\n      Hume_, vol. i.), he discusses the points on which he differed from\n      them.\n\n    2 \u201cThe chief thing therefore which lawgivers and other wise men that\n      have laboured for the establishment of society have endeavoured, has\n      been to make the people they were to govern believe that it was more\n      beneficial for everybody to conquer than to indulge his appetites,\n      and much better to mind the public than what seemed his private\n      interest ... observing that none were either so savage as not to be\n      charmed with praise, or so despicable as patiently to bear contempt,\n      they justly concluded that flattery must be the most powerful\n      argument that could be used to human creatures. Making use of this\n      bewitching engine, they extolled the excellency of our nature above\n      other animals ... by the help of which we were capable of performing\n      the most noble achievements. Having, by this artful flattery,\n      insinuated themselves into the hearts of men, they began to instruct\n      them in the notions of honour and shame, &c.\u201d\u2014_Enquiry into the\n      Origin of Moral Virtue._\n\n    3 \u201cI conceive that when a man deliberates whether he shall do a thing\n      or not do it, he does nothing else but consider whether it be better\n      for himself to do it or not to do it.\u201d\u2014Hobbes _On Liberty and\n      Necessity._ \u201cGood and evil are names that signify our appetites and\n      aversions.\u201d\u2014Ibid. _Leviathan_, part i. ch. xvi. \u201cObligation is the\n      necessity of doing or omitting any action in order to be\n      happy.\u201d\u2014Gay\u2019s dissertation prefixed to King\u2019s _Origin of Evil_, p.\n      36. \u201cThe only reason or motive by which individuals can possibly be\n      induced to the practice of virtue, must be the feeling immediate or\n      the prospect of future private happiness.\u201d\u2014Brown _On the\n      Characteristics_, p. 159. \u201cEn tout temps, en tout lieu, tant en\n      mati\u00e8re de morale qu\u2019en mati\u00e8re d\u2019esprit, c\u2019est l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat personnel\n      qui dicte le jugement des particuliers, et l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat g\u00e9n\u00e9ral qui\n      dicte celui des nations.... Tout homme ne prend dans ses jugements\n      conseil que de son int\u00e9r\u00eat.\u201d\u2014Helv\u00e9tius _De l\u2019Esprit_, discours ii.\n      \u201cNature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign\n      masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what\n      we ought to do, as well as to determine what we shall do.... The\n      principle of utility recognises this subjection, and assumes it for\n      the foundation of that system, the object of which is to rear the\n      fabric of felicity by the hands of reason and of law. Systems which\n      attempt to question it, deal in sounds instead of sense, in caprice\n      instead of reason, in darkness instead of light.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s\n      _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. i. \u201cBy the principle of\n      utility is meant that principle which approves or disapproves of\n      every action whatsoever, according to the tendency which it appears\n      to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose\n      interest is in question.\u201d\u2014Ibid. \u201cJe regarde l\u2019amour \u00e9clair\u00e9 de\n      nous-m\u00eames comme le principe de tout sacrifice moral.\u201d\u2014D\u2019Alembert\n      quoted by D. Stewart, _Active and Moral Powers_, vol. i. p. 220.\n\n    4 \u201cPleasure is in itself a good; nay, even setting aside immunity from\n      pain, the only good; pain is in itself an evil, and, indeed, without\n      exception, the only evil, or else the words good and evil have no\n      meaning.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. x.\n\n    5 \u201cGood and evil are nothing but pleasure and pain, or that which\n      occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil\n      then is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions\n      to some law whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and\n      power of the law maker, which good and evil, pleasure or pain,\n      attending our observance or breach of the law by the decree of the\n      law maker, is that we call reward or punishment.\u201d\u2014Locke\u2019s _Essay_,\n      book ii. ch. xxviii. \u201cTake away pleasures and pains, not only\n      happiness, but justice, and duty, and obligation, and virtue, all of\n      which have been so elaborately held up to view as independent of\n      them, are so many empty sounds.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Springs of Action_, ch.\n      i. \u00a7 15.\n\n    6 \u201cIl lui est aussi impossible d\u2019aimer le bien pour le bien, que\n      d\u2019aimer le mal pour le mal.\u201d\u2014Helv\u00e9tius _De l\u2019Esprit_, disc. ii. ch.\n      v.\n\n    7 \u201cEven the goodness which we apprehend in God Almighty, is his\n      goodness to us.\u201d\u2014Hobbes _On Human Nature_, ch. vii. \u00a7 3. So\n      Waterland, \u201cTo love God is in effect the same thing as to love\n      happiness, eternal happiness; and the love of happiness is still the\n      love of ourselves.\u201d\u2014_Third Sermon on Self-love._\n\n    8 \u201cReverence is the conception we have concerning another, that he\n      hath the power to do unto us both good and hurt, but not the will to\n      do us hurt.\u201d\u2014Hobbes _On Human Nature_, ch. viii. \u00a7 7.\n\n    9 \u201cThe pleasures of piety are the pleasures that accompany the belief\n      of a man\u2019s being in the acquisition, or in possession of the\n      goodwill or favour of the Supreme Being; and as a fruit of it, of\n      his being in the way of enjoying pleasures to be received by God\u2019s\n      special appointment either in this life or in a life to\n      come.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. v. \u201cThe\n      pains of piety are the pains that accompany the belief of a man\u2019s\n      being obnoxious to the displeasure of the Supreme Being, and in\n      consequence to certain pains to be inflicted by His especial\n      appointment, either in this life or in a life to come. These may be\n      also called the pains of religion.\u201d\u2014Ibid.\n\n   10 \u201cThere can be no greater argument to a man of his own power, than to\n      find himself able not only to accomplish his own desires, but also\n      to assist other men in theirs; and this is that conception wherein\n      consisteth charity.\u201d\u2014Hobbes _On Hum. Nat._ ch. ix. \u00a7 17. \u201cNo man\n      giveth but with intention of good to himself, because gift is\n      voluntary; and of all voluntary acts, the object to every man is his\n      own good.\u201d\u2014Hobbes\u2019 _Leviathan_, part i. ch. xv. \u201cDream not that men\n      will move their little finger to serve you, unless their advantage\n      in so doing be obvious to them. Men never did so, and never will\n      while human nature is made of its present materials.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s\n      _Deontology_, vol. ii. p. 133.\n\n   11 \u201cPity is imagination or fiction of future calamity to ourselves,\n      proceeding from the sense of another man\u2019s calamity. But when it\n      lighteth on such as we think have not deserved the same, the\n      compassion is greater, because there then appeareth more probability\n      that the same may happen to us; for the evil that happeneth to an\n      innocent man may happen to every man.\u201d\u2014Hobbes _On Hum. Nat._ ch. ix.\n      \u00a7 10. \u201cLa piti\u00e9 est souvent un sentiment de nos propres maux dans\n      les maux d\u2019autrui. C\u2019est une habile pr\u00e9voyance des malheurs o\u00f9 nous\n      pouvons tomber. Nous donnons des secours aux autres pour les engager\n      \u00e0 nous en donner en de semblables occasions, et ces services que\n      nous leur rendons sont, \u00e0 proprement parler, des biens que nous nous\n      faisons \u00e0 nous-m\u00eames par avance.\u201d\u2014La Rochefoucauld, _Maximes_, 264.\n      Butler has remarked that if Hobbes\u2019 account were true, the most\n      fearful would be the most compassionate nature; but this is perhaps\n      not quite just, for Hobbes\u2019 notion of pity implies the union of two\n      not absolutely identical, though nearly allied, influences, timidity\n      and imagination. The theory of Adam Smith, though closely connected\n      with, differs totally in consequences from that of Hobbes on this\n      point. He says, \u201cWhen I condole with you for the loss of your son,\n      in order to enter into your grief, I do not consider what I, a\n      person of such a character and profession, should suffer if I had a\n      son, and if that son should die\u2014I consider what I should suffer if I\n      was really you. I not only change circumstances with you, but I\n      change persons and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon\n      your account.... A man may sympathise with a woman in child-bed,\n      though it is impossible he should conceive himself suffering her\n      pains in his own proper person and character.\u201d\u2014_Moral Sentiments_,\n      part vii. ch. i. \u00a73.\n\n   12 \u201cCe que les hommes ont nomm\u00e9 amiti\u00e9 n\u2019est qu\u2019une soci\u00e9t\u00e9, qu\u2019un\n      m\u00e9nagement r\u00e9ciproque d\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eats et qu\u2019un \u00e9change de bons offices.\n      Ce n\u2019est enfin qu\u2019un commerce o\u00f9 l\u2019amour-propre se propose toujours\n      quelque chose \u00e0 gagner.\u201d\u2014La Rochefoucauld, _Max._ 83. See this idea\n      developed at large in Helv\u00e9tius.\n\n   13 \u201cLa science de la morale n\u2019est autre chose que la science m\u00eame de la\n      l\u00e9gislation.\u201d\u2014Helv\u00e9tius _De l\u2019Esprit_, ii. 17.\n\n   14 This doctrine is expounded at length in all the moral works of\n      Hobbes and his school. The following passage is a fair specimen of\n      their meaning:\u2014\u201cMoral philosophy is nothing else but the science of\n      what is good and evil in the conversation and society of mankind.\n      Good and evil are names that signify our appetites and aversions,\n      which in different tempers, customs, and doctrines of men are\n      different ... from whence arise disputes, controversies, and at last\n      war. And therefore, so long as man is in this condition of mere\n      nature (which is a condition of war), his private appetite is the\n      measure of good and evil. And consequently all men agree in this,\n      that peace is good, and therefore also that the ways or means of\n      peace, (which, as I have showed before) are justice, gratitude,\n      modesty, equity, mercy, and the rest of the laws of nature are good\n      ... and their contrary vices evil.\u201d\u2014Hobbes\u2019 _Leviathan_, part i. ch.\n      xvi. See, too, a striking passage in Bentham\u2019s _Deontology_, vol.\n      ii. p. 132.\n\n   15 As an ingenious writer in the _Saturday Review_ (Aug. 10, 1867)\n      expresses it: \u201cChastity is merely a social law created to encourage\n      the alliances that most promote the permanent welfare of the race,\n      and to maintain woman in a social position which it is thought\n      advisable she should hold.\u201d See, too, on this view, Hume\u2019s _Inquiry\n      concerning Morals_, \u00a7 4, and also _note_ x.: \u201cTo what other purpose\n      do all the ideas of chastity and modesty serve? Nisi utile est quod\n      facimus, frustra est gloria.\u201d\n\n   16 \u201cAll pleasure is necessarily self-regarding, for it is impossible to\n      have any feelings out of our own mind. But there are modes of\n      delight that bring also satisfaction to others, from the round that\n      they take in their course. Such are the pleasures of benevolence.\n      Others imply no participation by any second party, as, for example,\n      eating, drinking, bodily warmth, property, and power; while a third\n      class are fed by the pains and privations of fellow-beings, as the\n      delights of sport and tyranny. The condemnatory phrase, selfishness,\n      applies with especial emphasis to the last-mentioned class, and, in\n      a qualified degree, to the second group; while such terms as\n      unselfishness, disinterestedness, self-devotion, are applied to the\n      vicarious position wherein we seek our own satisfaction in that of\n      others.\u201d\u2014Bain _On the Emotions and Will_, p. 113.\n\n   17 \u201cVice may be defined to be a miscalculation of chances, a mistake in\n      estimating the value of pleasures and pains. It is false moral\n      arithmetic.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Deontology_, vol. i. p. 131.\n\n   18 \u201cLa r\u00e9compense, la punition, la gloire et l\u2019infamie soumises \u00e0 ses\n      volont\u00e9s sont quatre esp\u00e8ces de divinit\u00e9s avec lesquelles le\n      l\u00e9gislateur peut toujours op\u00e9rer le bien public et cr\u00e9er des hommes\n      illustres en tous les genres. Toute l\u2019\u00e9tude des moralistes consiste\n      \u00e0 d\u00e9terminer l\u2019usage qu\u2019on doit faire de ces r\u00e9compenses et de ces\n      punitions et les secours qu\u2019on peut tirer pour lier l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat\n      personnel \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat g\u00e9n\u00e9ral.\u201d\u2014Helv\u00e9tius _De l\u2019Esprit_, ii. 22. \u201cLa\n      justice de nos jugements et de nos actions n\u2019est jamais que la\n      rencontre heureuse de notre int\u00e9r\u00eat avec l\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat public.\u201d\u2014Ibid.\n      ii. 7. \u201cTo prove that the immoral action is a miscalculation of\n      self-interest, to show how erroneous an estimate the vicious man\n      makes of pains and pleasures, is the purpose of the intelligent\n      moralist. Unless he can do this he does nothing; for, as has been\n      stated above, for a man not to pursue what he deems likely to\n      produce to him the greatest sum of enjoyment, is, in the very nature\n      of things, impossible.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Deontology_.\n\n   19 \u201cIf the effect of virtue were to prevent or destroy more pleasure\n      than it produced, or to produce more pain than it prevented, its\n      more appropriate name would be wickedness and folly; wickedness as\n      it affected others, folly as respected him who practised\n      it.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Deontology_, vol. i. p. 142. \u201cWeigh pains, weigh\n      pleasures, and as the balance stands will stand the question of\n      right and wrong.\u201d\u2014Ibid. vol. i. p. 137. \u201cMoralis philosophi\u00e6 caput\n      est, Faustine fili, ut scias quibus ad beatam vitam perveniri\n      rationibus possit.\u201d\u2014Apuleius, _Ad Doct. Platonis_, ii. \u201cAtque ipsa\n      utilitas, justi prope mater et \u00e6qui.\u201d\u2014Horace, _Sat._ I. iii. 98.\n\n   20 \u201cWe can be obliged to nothing but what we ourselves are to gain or\n      lose something by; for nothing else can be \u2018violent motive\u2019 to us.\n      As we should not be obliged to obey the laws or the magistrate\n      unless rewards or punishments, pleasure or pain, somehow or other,\n      depended upon our obedience; so neither should we, without the same\n      reason, be obliged to do what is right, to practise virtue, or to\n      obey the commands of God.\u201d\u2014Paley\u2019s _Moral Philosophy_, book ii. ch.\n      ii.\n\n   21 See Gassendi _Philosophi\u00e6 Epicuri Syntagma_. These four canons are a\n      skilful condensation of the argument of Torquatus in Cicero, _De\n      Fin._ i. 2. See, too, a very striking letter by Epicurus himself,\n      given in his life by Diogenes La\u00ebrtius.\n\n   22 \u201cSanus igitur non est, qui nulla spe majore proposita, iis bonis\n      quibus c\u00e6teri utuntur in vita, labores et cruciatus et miserias\n      anteponat.... Non aliter his bonis pr\u00e6sentibus abstinendum est quam\n      si sint aliqua majora, propter qu\u00e6 tanti sit et voluptates omittere\n      et mala omnia sustinere.\u201d\u2014Lactantius, _Div. Inst._ vi. 9. Macaulay,\n      in some youthful essays against the Utilitarian theory (which he\n      characteristically described as \u201cNot much more laughable than\n      phrenology, and immeasurably more humane than cock-fighting\u201d),\n      maintains the theological form of selfishness in very strong terms.\n      \u201cWhat proposition is there respecting human nature which is\n      absolutely and universally true? We know of only one, and that is\n      not only true but identical, that men always act from\n      self-interest.\u201d\u2014Review of Mill\u2019s _Essay on Government_. \u201cOf this we\n      may be sure, that the words \u2018greatest happiness\u2019 will never in any\n      man\u2019s mouth mean more than the greatest happiness of others, which\n      is consistent with what he thinks his own.... This direction (Do as\n      you would be done by) would be utterly unmeaning, as it actually is\n      in Mr. Bentham\u2019s philosophy, unless it were accompanied by a\n      sanction. In the Christian scheme accordingly it is accompanied by a\n      sanction of immense force. To a man whose greatest happiness in this\n      world is inconsistent with the greatest happiness of the greatest\n      number, is held out the prospect of an infinite happiness hereafter,\n      from which he excludes himself by wronging his fellow-creatures\n      here.\u201d\u2014_Answer to the Westminster Review\u2019s Defence of Mill._\n\n   23 \u201cAll virtue and piety are thus resolvable into a principle of\n      self-love. It is what Scripture itself resolves them into by\n      founding them upon faith in God\u2019s promises, and hope in things\n      unseen. In this way it may be rightly said that there is no such\n      thing as disinterested virtue. It is with reference to ourselves and\n      for our own sakes that we love even God Himself.\u201d\u2014Waterland, _Third\n      Sermon on Self-love_. \u201cTo risk the happiness of the whole duration\n      of our being in any case whatever, were it possible, would be\n      foolish.\u201d\u2014Robert Hall\u2019s _Sermon on Modern Infidelity_. \u201cIn the moral\n      system the means are virtuous practice; the end, happiness.\u201d\u2014\n      Warburton\u2019s _Divine Legation_, book ii. Appendix.\n\n   24 \u201cThere is always understood to be a difference between an act of\n      prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrusted a man who owed me\n      a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence to get another\n      person bound with him; but I should hardly call it an act of\n      duty.... Now in what, you will ask, does the difference consist,\n      inasmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in the one\n      case and the other, in acts of duty as well as acts of prudence, we\n      consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or lose by the act? The\n      difference, and the only difference, is this: that in the one case\n      we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present world; in the\n      other case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose in the world\n      to come.\u201d\u2014Paley\u2019s _Moral Philosophy_, ii. 3.\n\n   25 \u201cHence we may see the weakness and mistake of those falsely\n      religious ... who are scandalised at our being determined to the\n      pursuit of virtue through any degree of regard to its happy\n      consequences in this life.... For it is evident that the religious\n      motive is precisely of the same kind, only stronger, as the\n      happiness expected is greater and more lasting.\u201d\u2014Brown\u2019s _Essays on\n      the Characteristics_, p. 220.\n\n   26 \u201cIf a Christian, who has the view of happiness and misery in another\n      life, be asked why a man must keep his word, he will give this as a\n      reason, because God, who has the power of eternal life and death,\n      requires it of us. But if an Hobbist be asked why, he will answer,\n      because the public requires it, and the Leviathan will punish you if\n      you do not. And if one of the old heathen philosophers had been\n      asked, he would have answered, because it was dishonest, below the\n      dignity of man, and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection of\n      human nature, to do otherwise.\u201d\u2014Locke\u2019s _Essay_, i. 3.\n\n   27 Thus Paley remarks that\u2014\u201cThe Christian religion hath not ascertained\n      the precise quantity of virtue necessary to salvation,\u201d and he then\n      proceeds to urge the probability of graduated scales of rewards and\n      punishments. (_Moral Philosophy_, book i. ch. vii.)\n\n   28 This view was developed by Locke (_Essay on the Human\n      Understanding_, book ii. ch. xxi.) Pascal, in a well-known passage,\n      applied the same argument to Christianity, urging that the rewards\n      and punishments it promises are so great, that it is the part of a\n      wise man to embrace the creed, even though he believes it\n      improbable, if there be but a possibility in its favour.\n\n   29 Cudworth, in his _Immutable Morals_, has collected the names of a\n      number of the schoolmen who held this view. See, too, an interesting\n      note in Miss Cobbe\u2019s very learned _Essay on Intuitive Morals_, pp.\n      18, 19.\n\n   30 E.g. Soame Jenyns, Dr. Johnson, Crusius, Pascal, Paley, and Austin.\n      Warburton is generally quoted in the list, but not I think quite\n      fairly. See his theory, which is rather complicated (_Divine\n      Legation_, i. 4). Waterland appears to have held this view, and also\n      Condillac. See a very remarkable chapter on morals, in his _Trait\u00e9\n      des Animaux_, part ii. ch. vii. Closely connected with this doctrine\n      is the notion that the morality of God is generically different from\n      the morality of men, which having been held with more or less\n      distinctness by many theologians (Archbishop King being perhaps the\n      most prominent), has found in our own day an able defender in Dr.\n      Mansel. Much information on the history of this doctrine will be\n      found in Dr. Mansel\u2019s _Second Letter_ to Professor Goldwin Smith\n      (Oxford, 1862).\n\n   31 Leibnitz noticed the frequency with which Supralapsarian Calvinists\n      adopt this doctrine. (_Th\u00e9odic\u00e9e_, part ii. \u00a7 176.) Archbishop\n      Whately, who from his connection with the Irish Clergy had admirable\n      opportunities of studying the tendencies of Calvinism, makes a\n      similar remark as the result of his own experience. (_Whately\u2019s\n      Life_, vol. ii. p. 339.)\n\n   32 \u201cGod designs the happiness of all His sentient creatures.... Knowing\n      the tendencies of our actions, and knowing His benevolent purpose,\n      we know His tacit commands.\u201d\u2014Austin\u2019s _Lectures on Jurisprudence_,\n      vol. i. p. 31. \u201cThe commands which He has revealed we must gather\n      from the terms wherein they are promulgated. The commands which He\n      has not revealed we must construe by the principle of\n      utility.\u201d\u2014Ibid. p. 96. So Paley\u2019s _Moral Philosophy_, book ii. ch.\n      iv. v.\n\n   33 Paley\u2019s _Moral Philosophy_, book i. ch. vii. The question of the\n      disinterestedness of the love we should bear to God was agitated in\n      the Catholic Church, Bossuet taking the selfish, and F\u00e9nelon the\n      unselfish side. The opinions of F\u00e9nelon and Molinos on the subject\n      were authoritatively condemned. In England, the less dogmatic\n      character of the national faith, and also the fact that the great\n      anti-Christian writer, Hobbes, was the advocate of extreme\n      selfishness in morals, had, I think, a favourable influence upon the\n      ethics of the church. Hobbes gave the first great impulse to moral\n      philosophy in England, and his opponents were naturally impelled to\n      an unselfish theory. Bishop Cumberland led the way, resolving virtue\n      (like Hutcheson) into benevolence. The majority of divines, however,\n      till the present century, have, I think, been on the selfish side.\n\n_   34 Moral Philosophy_, ii. 3.\n\n_   35 Essay on the Human Understanding_, ii. 28.\n\n_   36 Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. iii. Mr. Mill observes\n      that, \u201cBentham\u2019s idea of the world is that of a collection of\n      persons pursuing each his separate interest or pleasure, and the\n      prevention of whom from jostling one another more than is\n      unavoidable, may be attempted by hopes and fears derived from three\n      sources\u2014the law, religion, and public opinion. To these three\n      powers, considered as binding human conduct, he gave the name of\n      sanctions; the political sanction operating by the rewards and\n      penalties of the law; the religious sanction by those expected from\n      the ruler of the universe; and the popular, which he\n      characteristically calls also the moral sanction, operating through\n      the pains and pleasures arising from the favour or disfavour of our\n      fellow-creatures.\u201d\u2014_Dissertations_, vol. i. pp. 362-363.\n\n   37 Hume on this, as on most other points, was emphatically opposed to\n      the school of Hobbes, and even declared that no one could honestly\n      and in good faith deny the reality of an unselfish element in man.\n      Following in the steps of Butler, he explained it in the following\n      passage:\u2014\u201cHunger and thirst have eating and drinking for their end,\n      and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a\n      pleasure which may become the object of another species of desire or\n      inclination that is secondary and interested. In the same manner\n      there are mental passions by which we are impelled immediately to\n      seek particular objects, such as fame or power or vengeance, without\n      any regard to interest, and when these objects are attained a\n      pleasing enjoyment ensues.... Now where is the difficulty of\n      conceiving that this may likewise be the case with benevolence and\n      friendship, and that from the original frame of our temper we may\n      feel a desire of another\u2019s happiness or good, which by means of that\n      affection becomes our own good, and is afterwards pursued, from the\n      combined motives of benevolence and self-enjoyment?\u201d\u2014Hume\u2019s _Enquiry\n      concerning Morals_, Appendix II. Compare Butler, \u201cIf there be any\n      appetite or any inward principle besides self-love, why may there\n      not be an affection towards the good of our fellow-creatures, and\n      delight from that affection\u2019s being gratified and uneasiness from\n      things going contrary to it?\u201d\u2014_Sermon on Compassion._\n\n   38 \u201cBy sympathetic sensibility is to be understood the propensity that\n      a man has to derive pleasure from the happiness, and pain from the\n      unhappiness, of other sensitive beings.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Principles of\n      Morals and Legislation_, ch. vi. \u201cThe sense of sympathy is\n      universal. Perhaps there never existed a human being who had reached\n      full age without the experience of pleasure at another\u2019s pleasure,\n      of uneasiness at another\u2019s pain.... Community of interests,\n      similarity of opinion, are sources from whence it\n      springs.\u201d\u2014_Deontology_, vol. i. pp. 169-170.\n\n   39 \u201cThe idea of the pain of another is naturally painful. The idea of\n      the pleasure of another is naturally pleasurable.... In this, the\n      unselfish part of our nature, lies a foundation, even independently\n      of inculcation from without, for the generation of moral\n      feelings\u201d\u2014Mill\u2019s _Dissertations_, vol. i. p. 137. See, too, Bain\u2019s\n      _Emotions and the Will_, pp. 289, 313; and especially Austin\u2019s\n      _Lectures on Jurisprudence_. The first volume of this brilliant work\n      contains, I think without exception, the best modern statement of\n      the utilitarian theory in its most plausible form\u2014a statement\n      equally remarkable for its ability, its candour, and its uniform\n      courtesy to opponents.\n\n   40 See a collection of passages from Aristotle, bearing on the subject,\n      in Mackintosh\u2019s _Dissertation_.\n\n   41 Cic. _De Finibus_, i. 5. This view is adopted in Tucker\u2019s _Light of\n      Nature_ (ed. 1842), vol. i. p. 167. See, too, Mill\u2019s _Analysis of\n      the Human Mind_, vol. ii. p. 174.\n\n_   42 Essay_, book ii. ch. xxxiii.\n\n   43 Hutcheson _On the Passions_, \u00a7 1. The \u201csecondary desires\u201d of\n      Hutcheson are closely related to the \u201creflex affections\u201d of\n      Shaftesbury. \u201cNot only the outward beings which offer themselves to\n      the sense are the objects of the affection; but the very actions\n      themselves, and the affections of pity, kindness, gratitude, and\n      their contraries, being brought into the mind by reflection, become\n      objects. So that by means of this reflected sense, there arises\n      another kind of affection towards those very affections\n      themselves.\u201d\u2014Shaftesbury\u2019s _Enquiry concerning Virtue_, book i. part\n      ii. \u00a7 3.\n\n   44 See the preface to Hartley _On Man_. Gay\u2019s essay is prefixed to\n      Law\u2019s translation of Archbishop King _On the Origin of Evil_.\n\n   45 \u201cThe case is this. We first perceive or imagine some real good; i.e.\n      fitness to promote our happiness in those things which we love or\n      approve of.... Hence those things and pleasures are so tied together\n      and associated in our minds, that one cannot present itself, but the\n      other will also occur. And the association remains even after that\n      which at first gave them the connection is quite forgotten, or\n      perhaps does not exist, but the contrary.\u201d\u2014Gay\u2019s _Essay_, p. lii.\n      \u201cAll affections whatsoever are finally resolvable into reason,\n      pointing out private happiness, and are conversant only about things\n      apprehended to be means tending to this end; and whenever this end\n      is not perceived, they are to be accounted for from the association\n      of ideas, and may properly enough be called habits.\u201d\u2014Ibid. p. xxxi.\n\n   46 Principally by Mr. James Mill, whose chapter on association, in his\n      _Analysis of the Human Mind_, may probably rank with Paley\u2019s\n      beautiful chapter on happiness, at the head of all modern writings\n      on the utilitarian side,\u2014either of them, I think, being far more\n      valuable than anything Bentham ever wrote on morals. This last\n      writer\u2014whose contempt for his predecessors was only equalled by his\n      ignorance of their works, and who has added surprisingly little to\n      moral science (considering the reputation he attained), except a\n      barbarous nomenclature and an interminable series of classifications\n      evincing no real subtlety of thought\u2014makes, as far as I am aware, no\n      use of the doctrine of association. Paley states it with his usual\n      admirable clearness. \u201cHaving experienced in some instances a\n      particular conduct to be beneficial to ourselves, or observed that\n      it would be so, a sentiment of approbation rises up in our minds,\n      which sentiment afterwards accompanies the idea or mention of the\n      same conduct, although the private advantage which first existed no\n      longer exist.\u201d\u2014Paley, _Moral Philos_. i. 5. Paley, however, made\n      less use of this doctrine than might have been expected from so\n      enthusiastic an admirer of Tucker. In our own day it has been much\n      used by Mr. J. S. Mill.\n\n   47 This illustration, which was first employed by Hutcheson, is very\n      happily developed by Gay (p. lii.). It was then used by Hartley, and\n      finally Tucker reproduced the whole theory with the usual\n      illustration without any acknowledgment of the works of his\n      predecessors, employing however, the term \u201ctranslation\u201d instead of\n      \u201cassociation\u201d of ideas. See his curious chapter on the subject,\n      _Light of Nature_, book i. ch. xviii.\n\n   48 \u201cIt is the nature of translation to throw desire from the end upon\n      the means, which thenceforward become an end capable of exciting an\n      appetite without prospect of the consequences whereto they lead. Our\n      habits and most of the desires that occupy human life are of this\n      translated kind.\u201d\u2014Tucker\u2019s _Light of Nature_, vol. ii. (ed. 1842),\n      p. 281.\n\n   49 Mill\u2019s _Analysis of the Human Mind_. The desire for posthumous fame\n      is usually cited by intuitive moralists as a proof of a naturally\n      disinterested element in man.\n\n   50 Mill\u2019s _Analysis_.\n\n   51 Hartley _On Man_, vol. i. pp. 474-475.\n\n   52 \u201cBenevolence ... has also a high degree of honour and esteem annexed\n      to it, procures us many advantages and returns of kindness, both\n      from the person obliged and others, and is most closely connected\n      with the hopes of reward in a future state, and of self-approbation\n      or the moral sense; and the same things hold with respect to\n      generosity in a much higher degree. It is easy therefore to see how\n      such associations may be formed as to engage us to forego great\n      pleasure, or endure great pain for the sake of others, how these\n      associations may be attended with so great a degree of pleasure as\n      to overrule the positive pain endured or the negative one from the\n      foregoing of a pleasure, and yet how there may be no direct explicit\n      expectation of reward either from God or man, by natural consequence\n      or express appointment, not even of the concomitant pleasure that\n      engages the agent to undertake the benevolent and generous action;\n      and this I take to be a proof from the doctrine of association that\n      there is and must be such a thing as pure disinterested benevolence;\n      also a just account of the origin and nature of it.\u201d\u2014Hartley _On\n      Man_, vol. i. pp. 473-474. See too Mill\u2019s _Analysis_, vol. ii. p.\n      252.\n\n   53 Mill\u2019s _Analysis_, vol. ii. pp. 244-247.\n\n   54 \u201cWith self-interest,\u201d said Hartley, \u201cman must begin; he may end in\n      self-annihilation;\u201d or as Coleridge happily puts it, \u201cLegality\n      precedes morality in every individual, even as the Jewish\n      dispensation preceded the Christian in the world at large.\u201d\u2014_Notes\n      Theological and Political_, p. 340. It might be retorted with much\n      truth, that we begin by practising morality as a duty\u2014we end by\n      practising it as a pleasure, without any reference to duty.\n      Coleridge, who expressed for the Benthamite theories a very cordial\n      detestation, sometimes glided into them himself. \u201cThe happiness of\n      man,\u201d he says, \u201cis the end of virtue, and truth is the knowledge of\n      the means.\u201d (_The Friend_, ed. 1850, vol. ii. p. 192.) \u201cWhat can be\n      the object of human virtue but the happiness of sentient, still more\n      of moral beings?\u201d (_Notes Theol. and Polit._ p. 351.) Leibnitz says,\n      \u201cQuand on aura appris \u00e0 faire des actions louables par ambition, on\n      les fera apr\u00e8s par inclination.\u201d (_Sur l\u2019 Art de conna\u00eetre les\n      Hommes._)\n\n   55 E.g. Mackintosh and James Mill. Coleridge in his younger days was an\n      enthusiastic admirer of Hartley; but chiefly, I believe, on account\n      of his theory of vibrations. He named his son after him, and\n      described him in one of his poems as:\u2014\n\n      \u201cHe of mortal kind\n      Wisest, the first who marked the ideal tribes\n      Up the fine fibres through the sentient brain.\u201d\n\n      _Religious Musings._\n\n   56 This position is elaborated in a passage too long for quotation by\n      Mr. Austin. (_Lectures on Jurisprudence_, vol. i. p. 44.)\n\n   57 Hobbes defines conscience as \u201cthe opinion of evidence\u201d (_On Human\n      Nature_, ch. vi. \u00a78). Locke as \u201cour own opinion or judgment of the\n      moral rectitude or pravity of our own actions\u201d (_Essay_, book i. ch.\n      iii. \u00a7 8). In Bentham there is very little on the subject; but in\n      one place he informs us that \u201cconscience is a thing of fictitious\n      existence, supposed to occupy a seat in the mind\u201d (_Deontology_,\n      vol. i. p. 137); and in another he ranks \u201clove of duty\u201d (which he\n      describes as an \u201cimpossible motive, in so far as duty is synonymous\n      to obligation\u201d) as a variety of the \u201clove of power\u201d (_Springs of\n      Action_, ii.) Mr. Bain says, \u201cconscience is an imitation within\n      ourselves of the government without us.\u201d (_Emotions and Will_, p.\n      313.)\n\n   58 \u201cHowever much they [utilitarians] may believe (as they do) that\n      actions and dispositions are only virtuous because they promote\n      another end than virtue, yet this being granted ... they not only\n      place virtue at the very head of the things which are good as means\n      to the ultimate end, but they also recognise as a psychological fact\n      the possibility of its being to the individual a good in itself....\n      Virtue, according to the utilitarian doctrine, is not naturally and\n      originally part of the end, but it is capable of becoming so....\n      What was once desired as an instrument for the attainment of\n      happiness has come to be desired ... as part of happiness.... Human\n      nature is so constituted as to desire nothing which is not either a\n      part of happiness or a means of happiness.\u201d\u2014J. S. Mill\u2019s\n      _Utilitarianism_, pp. 54, 55, 56, 58.\n\n   59 \u201cA man is tempted to commit adultery with the wife of his friend.\n      The composition of the motive is obvious. He does not obey the\n      motive. Why? He obeys other motives which are stronger. Though\n      pleasures are associated with the immoral act, pains are associated\n      with it also\u2014the pains of the injured husband, the pains of the\n      wife, the moral indignation of mankind, the future reproaches of his\n      own mind. Some men obey the first rather than the second motive. The\n      reason is obvious. In these the association of the act with the\n      pleasure is from habit unduly strong, the association of the act\n      with pains is from want of habit unduly weak. This is the case of a\n      bad education.... Among the different classes of motives, there are\n      men who are more easily and strongly operated on by some, others by\n      others. We have also seen that this is entirely owing to habits of\n      association. This facility of being acted upon by motives of a\n      particular description, is that which we call disposition.\u201d\u2014Mill\u2019s\n      _Analysis_, vol. ii. pp. 212, 213, &c. Adam Smith says, I think with\n      much wisdom, that \u201cthe great secret of education is to direct vanity\n      to proper objects.\u201d\u2014_Moral Sentiments_, part vi. \u00a7 3.\n\n   60 \u201cGoodness in ourselves is the prospect of satisfaction annexed to\n      the welfare of others, so that we please them for the pleasure we\n      receive ourselves in so doing, or to avoid the uneasiness we should\n      feel in omitting it. But God is completely happy in Himself, nor can\n      His happiness receive increase or diminution from anything befalling\n      His creatures; wherefore His goodness is pure, disinterested bounty,\n      without any return of joy or satisfaction to Himself. Therefore it\n      is no wonder we have imperfect notions of a quality whereof we have\n      no experience in our own nature.\u201d\u2014Tucker\u2019s _Light of Nature_, vol.\n      i. p. 355. \u201cIt is the privilege of God alone to act upon pure,\n      disinterested bounty, without the least addition thereby to His own\n      enjoyment.\u201d\u2014Ibid. vol. ii. p. 279. On the other hand, Hutcheson\n      asks, \u201cIf there be such disposition in the Deity, where is the\n      impossibility of some small degree of this public love in His\n      creatures, and why must they be supposed incapable of acting but\n      from self-love?\u201d\u2014_Enquiry concerning Moral Good_, \u00a7 2.\n\n   61 \u201cWe gradually, through the influence of association, come to desire\n      the means without thinking of the end; the action itself becomes an\n      object of desire, and is performed without reference to any motive\n      beyond itself. Thus far, it may still be objected that the action\n      having, through association, become pleasurable, we are as much as\n      before moved to act by the anticipation of pleasure, namely, the\n      pleasure of the action itself. But granting this, the matter does\n      not end here. As we proceed in the formation of habits, and become\n      accustomed to will a particular act ... because it is pleasurable,\n      we at last continue to will it without any reference to its being\n      pleasurable.... In this manner it is that habits of hurtful excess\n      continue to be practised, although they have ceased to be\n      pleasurable, and in this manner also it is that the habit of willing\n      to persevere in the course which he has chosen, does not desert the\n      moral hero, even when the reward ... is anything but an equivalent\n      for the suffering he undergoes, or the wishes he may have to\n      renounce.\u201d\u2014Mill\u2019s _Logic_ (4th edition), vol. ii. pp. 416, 417.\n\n   62 \u201cIn regard to interest in the most extended, which is the original\n      and only strictly proper sense of the word disinterested, no human\n      act has ever been or ever can be disinterested.... In the only sense\n      in which disinterestedness can with truth be predicated of human\n      actions, it is employed ... to denote, not the absence of all\n      interest ... but only the absence of all interest of the\n      self-regarding class. Not but that it is very frequently predicated\n      of human action in cases in which divers interests, to no one of\n      which the appellation of self-regarding can with propriety be\n      denied, have been exercising their influence, and in particular fear\n      of God, or hope from God, and fear of ill-repute, or hope of good\n      repute. If what is above be correct, the most disinterested of men\n      is not less under the dominion of interest than the most interested.\n      The only cause of his being styled disinterested, is its not having\n      been observed that the sort of motive (suppose it sympathy for an\n      individual or class) has as truly a corresponding interest belonging\n      to it as any other species of motive has. Of this contradiction\n      between the truth of the case and the language employed in speaking\n      of it, the cause is that in the one case men have not been in the\n      habit of making\u2014as in point of consistency they ought to have\n      made\u2014of the word interest that use which in the other case they have\n      been in the habit of making of it.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Springs of Action_,\n      ii. \u00a7 2.\n\n   63 Among others Bishop Butler, who draws some very subtle distinctions\n      on the subject in his first sermon \u201con the love of our neighbour.\u201d\n      Dugald Stewart remarks that \u201calthough we apply the epithet selfish\n      to avarice and to low and private sensuality, we never apply it to\n      the desire of knowledge or to the pursuits of virtue, which are\n      certainly sources of more exquisite pleasure than riches or\n      sensuality can bestow.\u201d\u2014_Active and Moral Powers_, vol. i. p. 19.\n\n   64 Sir W. Hamilton.\n\n   65 Cic. _De Fin._ lib. ii.\n\n   66 \u201cAs there is not any sort of pleasure that is not itself a good, nor\n      any sort of pain the exemption from which is not a good, and as\n      nothing but the expectation of the eventual enjoyment of pleasure in\n      some shape, or of exemption from pain in some shape, can operate in\n      the character of a motive, a necessary consequence is that if by\n      motive be meant _sort_ of motive, there is not any such thing as a\n      bad motive.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Springs of Action_, ii. \u00a7 4. The first\n      clauses of the following passage I have already quoted: \u201cPleasure is\n      itself a good, nay, setting aside immunity from pain, the only good.\n      Pain is in itself an evil, and indeed, without exception, the only\n      evil, or else the words good and evil have no meaning. And this is\n      alike true of every sort of pain, and of every sort of pleasure. It\n      follows therefore immediately and incontestably that there is no\n      such thing as any sort of motive that is in itself a bad\n      one.\u201d\u2014_Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. ix. \u201cThe search\n      after motive is one of the prominent causes of men\u2019s bewilderment in\n      the investigation of questions of morals.... But this is a pursuit\n      in which every moment employed is a moment wasted. All motives are\n      abstractedly good. No man has ever had, can, or could have a motive\n      different from the pursuit of pleasure or of shunning\n      pain.\u201d\u2014_Deontology_, vol. i. p. 126. Mr. Mill\u2019s doctrine appears\n      somewhat different from this, but the difference is I think only\n      apparent. He says: \u201cThe motive has nothing to do with the morality\n      of the action, though much with the worth of the agent,\u201d and he\n      afterwards explains this last statement by saying that the \u201cmotive\n      makes a great difference in our moral estimation of the agent,\n      especially if it indicates a good or a bad habitual disposition, a\n      bent of character from which useful or from which hurtful actions\n      are likely to arise.\u201d\u2014_Utilitarianism_, 2nd ed. pp. 26-27.\n\n   67 This truth has been admirably illustrated by Mr. Herbert Spencer\n      (_Social Statics_, pp. 1-8).\n\n   68 \u201cOn \u00e9value la grandeur de la vertu en comparant les biens obtenus\n      aux maux au prix desquels on les ach\u00e8te: l\u2019exc\u00e9dant en bien mesure\n      la valeur de la vertu, comme l\u2019exc\u00e9dant en mal mesure le degr\u00e9 de\n      haine que doit inspirer le vice.\u201d\u2014Ch. Comte, _Trait\u00e9 de\n      L\u00e9gislation_, liv. ii. ch. xii.\n\n   69 M. Dumont, the translator of Bentham, has elaborated in a rather\n      famous passage the utilitarian notions about vengeance. \u201cToute\n      esp\u00e8ce de satisfaction entra\u00eenant une peine pour le d\u00e9linquant\n      produit naturellement un plaisir de vengeance pour la partie l\u00e9s\u00e9e.\n      Ce plaisir est un gain. Il rappelle la parabole de Samson. C\u2019est le\n      doux qui sort du terrible. C\u2019est le miel recueilli dans la gueule du\n      lion. Produit sans frais, r\u00e9sultat net d\u2019une op\u00e9ration n\u00e9cessaire \u00e0\n      d\u2019autres titres, c\u2019est une jouissance \u00e0 cultiver comme toute autre;\n      car le plaisir de la vengeance consid\u00e9r\u00e9e abstraitement n\u2019est comme\n      tout autre plaisir qu\u2019un bien en lui-m\u00eame.\u201d\u2014_Principes du Code\n      p\u00e9nal_, 2me partie, ch. xvi. According to a very acute living writer\n      of this school, \u201cThe criminal law stands to the passion of revenge\n      in much the same relation as marriage to the sexual appetite\u201d (J. F.\n      Stephen, _On the Criminal Law of England_, p. 99). Mr. Mill observes\n      that, \u201cIn the golden rule of Jesus of Nazareth, we read the complete\n      spirit of the ethics of utility\u201d (_Utilitarianism_, p. 24). It is\n      but fair to give a specimen of the opposite order of extravagance.\n      \u201cSo well convinced was Father Claver of the eternal happiness of\n      almost all whom he assisted,\u201d says this saintly missionary\u2019s\n      biographer, \u201cthat speaking once of some persons who had delivered a\n      criminal into the hands of justice, he said, God _forgive_ them; but\n      they have secured the salvation of this man at _the probable risk of\n      their own_.\u201d\u2014Newman\u2019s _Anglican Difficulties_, p. 205.\n\n_   70 De Ordine_, ii. 4. The experiment has more than once been tried at\n      Venice, Pisa, &c., and always with the results St. Augustine\n      predicted.\n\n   71 The reader will here observe the very transparent sophistry of an\n      assertion which is repeated ad nauseam by utilitarians. They tell us\n      that a regard to the remote consequences of our actions would lead\n      us to the conclusion that we should never perform an act which would\n      not be conducive to human happiness if it were universally\n      performed, or, as Mr. Austin expresses it, that \u201cthe question is if\n      acts of this class were generally done or generally forborne or\n      omitted, what would be the probable effect on the general happiness\n      or good?\u201d (_Lectures on Jurisprudence_, vol. i. p. 32.) The question\n      is nothing of the kind. If I am convinced that utility alone\n      constitutes virtue, and if I am meditating any particular act, the\n      sole question of morality must be whether that act is on the whole\n      useful, produces a net result of happiness. To determine this\n      question I must consider both the immediate and the remote\n      consequences of the act; but the latter are not ascertained by\n      asking what would be the result if every one did as I do, but by\n      asking how far, as a matter of fact, my act is likely to produce\n      imitators, or affect the conduct and future acts of others. It may\n      no doubt be convenient and useful to form classifications based on\n      the general tendency of different courses to promote or diminish\n      happiness, but such classifications cannot alter the morality of\n      particular acts. It is quite clear that no act which produces on the\n      whole more pleasure than pain can on utilitarian principles be\n      vicious. It is, I think, equally clear that no one could act\n      consistently on such a principle without being led to consequences\n      which in the common judgment of mankind are grossly and scandalously\n      immoral.\n\n   72 There are some very good remarks on the possibility of living a life\n      of imagination wholly distinct from the life of action in Mr. Bain\u2019s\n      _Emotions and Will_, p. 246.\n\n   73 Bentham especially recurs to this subject frequently. See Sir J.\n      Bowring\u2019s edition of his works (Edinburgh, 1843), vol. i. pp. 142,\n      143, 562; vol. x. pp. 549-550.\n\n   74 \u201cGranted that any practice causes more pain to animals than it gives\n      pleasure to man; is that practice moral or immoral? And if exactly\n      in proportion as human beings raise their heads out of the slough of\n      selfishness they do not with one voice answer \u2018immoral,\u2019 let the\n      morality of the principle of utility be for ever condemned.\u201d\u2014Mill\u2019s\n      _Dissert_. vol. ii. p. 485. \u201cWe deprive them [animals] of life, and\n      this is justifiable\u2014their pains do not equal our enjoyments. There\n      is a balance of good.\u201d\u2014Bentham\u2019s _Deontology_, vol. i. p. 14. Mr.\n      Mill accordingly defines the principle of utility, without any\n      special reference to man. \u201cThe creed which accepts as the foundation\n      of morals, utility or the great happiness principle, holds that\n      actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness,\n      wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of\n      happiness.\u201d\u2014_Utilitarianism_, pp. 9-10.\n\n   75 The exception of course being domestic animals, which may be injured\n      by ill treatment, but even this exception is a very partial one. No\n      selfish reason could prevent any amount of cruelty to animals that\n      were about to be killed, and even in the case of previous ill-usage\n      the calculations of selfishness will depend greatly upon the price\n      of the animal. I have been told that on some parts of the continent\n      diligence horses are systematically under-fed, and worked to a\n      speedy death, their cheapness rendering such a course the most\n      economical.\n\n   76 Bentham, as we have seen, is of opinion that the gastronomic\n      pleasure would produce the requisite excess of enjoyment. Hartley,\n      who has some amiable and beautiful remarks on the duty of kindness\n      to animals, without absolutely condemning, speaks with much aversion\n      of the custom of eating \u201cour brothers and sisters,\u201d the animals.\n      (_On Man_, vol. ii. pp. 222-223.) Paley, observing that it is quite\n      possible for men to live without flesh-diet, concludes that the only\n      sufficient justification for eating meat is an express divine\n      revelation in the Book of Genesis. (_Moral Philos._ book ii. ch.\n      11.) Some reasoners evade the main issue by contending that they\n      kill animals because they would otherwise overrun the earth; but\n      this, as Windham said, \u201cis an indifferent reason for killing fish.\u201d\n\n   77 In commenting upon the French licentiousness of the eighteenth\n      century, Hume says, in a passage which has excited a great deal of\n      animadversion:\u2014\u201cOur neighbours, it seems, have resolved to sacrifice\n      some of the domestic to the social pleasures; and to prefer ease,\n      freedom, and an open commerce, to strict fidelity and constancy.\n      These ends are both good, and are somewhat difficult to reconcile;\n      nor must we be surprised if the customs of nations incline too much\n      sometimes to the one side, and sometimes to the other.\u201d\u2014_Dialogue._\n\n   78 There are few things more pitiable than the blunders into which\n      writers have fallen when trying to base the plain virtue of chastity\n      on utilitarian calculations. Thus since the writings of Malthus it\n      has been generally recognised that one of the very first conditions\n      of all material prosperity is to check early marriages, to restrain\n      the tendency of population to multiply more rapidly than the means\n      of subsistence. Knowing this, what can be more deplorable than to\n      find moralists making such arguments as these the very foundation of\n      morals?\u2014\u201cThe first and great mischief, and by consequence the guilt,\n      of promiscuous concubinage consists in its tendency to diminish\n      marriages.\u201d (Paley\u2019s _Moral Philosophy_, book iii. part iii. ch.\n      ii.) \u201cThat is always the most happy condition of a nation, and that\n      nation is most accurately obeying the laws of our constitution, in\n      which the number of the human race is most rapidly increasing. Now\n      it is certain that under the law of chastity, that is, when\n      individuals are exclusively united to each other, the increase of\n      population will be more rapid than under any other circumstances.\u201d\n      (Wayland\u2019s _Elements of Moral Science_, p. 298, 11th ed., Boston,\n      1839.) I am sorry to bring such subjects before the reader, but it\n      is impossible to write a history of morals without doing so.\n\n   79 See Luther\u2019s _Table Talk_.\n\n   80 Tillemont, _M\u00e9m. pour servir \u00e0 l\u2019Hist. eccl\u00e9siastique_, tome x. p.\n      57.\n\n   81 \u03a4\u03cc \u03c4\u03b5 \u1f00\u03bb\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03b5\u1f50\u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd. (\u00c6lian, _Var. Hist._ xii. 59.)\n      Longinus in like manner divides virtue into \u03b5\u1f50\u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bb\u03ae\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1.\n      (_De Sublim._ \u00a7 1.) The opposite view in England is continually\n      expressed in the saying, \u201cYou should never pull down an opinion\n      until you have something to put in its place,\u201d which can only mean,\n      if you are convinced that some religious or other hypothesis is\n      false, you are morally bound to repress or conceal your conviction\n      until you have discovered positive affirmations or explanations as\n      unqualified and consolatory as those you have destroyed.\n\n   82 See this powerfully stated by Shaftesbury. (_Inquiry concerning\n      Virtue_, book i. part iii.) The same objection applies to Dr.\n      Mansel\u2019s modification of the theological doctrine\u2014viz. that the\n      origin of morals is not the will but the nature of God.\n\n   83 \u201cThe one great and binding ground of the belief of God and a\n      hereafter is the law of conscience.\u201d\u2014Coleridge, _Notes Theological\n      and Political_, p. 367. That our moral faculty is our one reason for\n      maintaining the supreme benevolence of the Deity was a favourite\n      position of Kant.\n\n   84 \u201cNescio quomodo inh\u00e6ret in mentibus quasi s\u00e6culorum quoddam augurium\n      futurorum; idque in maximis ingeniis altissimisque animis et\n      exsistit maxime et apparet facillime.\u201d\u2014Cic. _Tusc. Disp._ i. 14.\n\n   85 \u201cIt is a calumny to say that men are roused to heroic actions by\n      ease, hope of pleasure, recompense\u2014sugar-plums of any kind in this\n      world or the next. In the meanest mortal there lies something\n      nobler. The poor swearing soldier hired to be shot has his \u2018honour\n      of a soldier,\u2019 different from drill, regulations, and the shilling a\n      day. It is not to taste sweet things, but to do noble and true\n      things, and vindicate himself under God\u2019s heaven as a God-made man,\n      that the poorest son of Adam dimly longs. Show him the way of doing\n      that, the dullest day-drudge kindles into a hero. They wrong man\n      greatly who say he is to be seduced by ease. Difficulty, abnegation,\n      martyrdom, death, are the allurements that act on the heart of man.\n      Kindle the inner genial life of him, you have a flame that burns up\n      all lower considerations.\u201d\u2014Carlyle\u2019s _Hero-worship_, p. 237 (ed.\n      1858).\n\n   86 \u201cClamat Epicurus, is quem vos nimis voluptatibus esse deditum\n      dicitis, non posse jucunde vivi nisi sapienter, honeste, justeque\n      vivatur, nec sapienter, honeste, juste nisi jucunde.\u201d\u2014Cicero, _De\n      Fin._ i. 18.\n\n   87 \u201cThe virtues to be complete must have fixed their residence in the\n      heart and become appetites impelling to actions without further\n      thought than the gratification of them; so that after their\n      expedience ceases they still continue to operate by the desire they\n      raise.... I knew a mercer who having gotten a competency of fortune,\n      thought to retire and enjoy himself in quiet; but finding he could\n      not be easy without business was forced to return to the shop and\n      assist his former partners gratis, in the nature of a journeyman.\n      Why then should it be thought strange that a man long inured to the\n      practice of moral duties should persevere in them out of liking,\n      when they can yield him no further advantage?\u201d\u2014Tucker\u2019s _Light of\n      Nature_, vol. i. p. 269. Mr. J. S. Mill in his _Utilitarianism_\n      dwells much on the heroism which he thinks this view of morals may\n      produce.\n\n   88 See Lactantius, _Inst. Div._ vi. 9. Montesquieu, in his _D\u00e9cadence\n      de l\u2019Empire romain_, has shown in detail the manner in which the\n      crimes of Roman politicians contributed to the greatness of their\n      nation. Modern history furnishes only too many illustrations of the\n      same truth.\n\n   89 \u201cThat quick sensibility which is the groundwork of all advances\n      towards perfection increases the pungency of pains and\n      vexations.\u201d\u2014Tucker\u2019s _Light of Nature_, ii. 16, \u00a7 4.\n\n   90 This position is forcibly illustrated by Mr. Maurice in his fourth\n      lecture _On Conscience_ (1868). It is manifest that a tradesman\n      resisting a dishonest or illegal trade custom, an Irish peasant in a\n      disturbed district revolting against the agrarian conspiracy of his\n      class, or a soldier in many countries conscientiously refusing in\n      obedience to the law to fight a duel, would incur the full force of\n      social penalties, because he failed to do that which was illegal or\n      criminal.\n\n   91 See Brown _On the Characteristics_, pp. 206-209.\n\n   92 \u201cA toothache produces more violent convulsions of pain than a\n      phthisis or a dropsy. A gloomy disposition ... may be found in very\n      worthy characters, though it is sufficient alone to embitter\n      life.... A selfish villain may possess a spring and alacrity of\n      temper, which is indeed a good quality, but which is rewarded much\n      beyond its merit, and when attended with good fortune will\n      compensate for the uneasiness and remorse arising from all the other\n      vices.\u201d\u2014Hume\u2019s Essays: _The Sceptic_.\n\n   93 At the same time, the following passage contains, I think, a great\n      deal of wisdom and of a kind peculiarly needed in England at the\n      present day:\u2014\u201cThe nature of the subject furnishes the strongest\n      presumption that no better system will ever, for the future, be\n      invented, in order to account for the origin of the benevolent from\n      the selfish affections, and reduce all the various emotions of the\n      human mind to a perfect simplicity. The case is not the same in this\n      species of philosophy as in physics. Many an hypothesis in nature,\n      contrary to first appearances, has been found, on more accurate\n      scrutiny, solid and satisfactory.... But the presumption always lies\n      on the other side in all enquiries concerning the origin of our\n      passions, and of the internal operations of the human mind. The\n      simplest and most obvious cause which can there be assigned for any\n      phenomenon, is probably the true one.... The affections are not\n      susceptible of any impression from the refinements of reason or\n      imagination; and it is always found that a vigorous exertion of the\n      latter faculties, necessarily, from the narrow capacity of the human\n      mind, destroys all activity in the former.\u201d\u2014Hume\u2019s _Enquiry\n      Concerning Morals_, Append. II.\n\n   94 \u201cThe pleasing consciousness and self-approbation that rise up in the\n      mind of a virtuous man, exclusively of any direct, explicit,\n      consideration of advantage likely to accrue to himself from his\n      possession of those good qualities\u201d (Hartley _On Man_, vol. i. p.\n      493), form a theme upon which moralists of both schools are fond of\n      dilating, in a strain that reminds one irresistibly of the\n      self-complacency of a famous nursery hero, while reflecting upon his\n      own merits over a Christmas-pie. Thus Adam Smith says, \u201cThe man who,\n      not from frivolous fancy, but from proper motives, has performed a\n      generous action, when he looks forward to those whom he has served,\n      feels himself to be the natural object of their love and gratitude,\n      and by sympathy with them, of the esteem and approbation of all\n      mankind. And when he looks backward to the motive from which he\n      acted, and surveys it in the light in which the indifferent\n      spectator will survey it, he still continues to enter into it, and\n      applauds himself by sympathy with the approbation of this supposed\n      impartial judge. In both these points of view, his conduct appears\n      to him every way agreeable.... Misery and wretchedness can never\n      enter the breast in which dwells complete\n      self-satisfaction.\u201d\u2014_Theory of Moral Sentiments_, part ii. ch. ii. \u00a7\n      2; part iii. ch. iii. I suspect that many moralists confuse the\n      self-gratulation which they suppose a virtuous man to feel, with the\n      delight a religious man experiences from the sense of the protection\n      and favour of the Deity. But these two feelings are clearly\n      distinct, and it will, I believe, be found that the latter is most\n      strongly experienced by the very men who most sincerely disclaim all\n      sense of merit. \u201cWere the perfect man to exist,\u201d said that good and\n      great writer, Archer Butler, \u201che himself would be the last to know\n      it; for the highest stage of advancement is the lowest descent in\n      humility.\u201d At all events, the reader will observe, that on\n      utilitarian principles nothing could be more pernicious or criminal\n      than that modest, humble, and diffident spirit, which diminishes the\n      pleasure of self-gratulation, one of the highest utilitarian motives\n      to virtue.\n\n   95 Hartley has tried in one place to evade this conclusion by an appeal\n      to the doctrine of final causes. He says that the fact that\n      conscience is not an original principle of our nature, but is formed\n      mechanically in the manner I have described, does not invalidate the\n      fact that it is intended for our guide, \u201cfor all the things which\n      have evident final causes, are plainly brought about by mechanical\n      means;\u201d and he appeals to the milk in the breast, which is intended\n      for the sustenance of the young, but which is nevertheless\n      mechanically produced. (_On Man_, vol. ii. pp. 338-339.) But it is\n      plain that this mode of reasoning would justify us in attributing an\n      authoritative character to any habit\u2014e.g. to that of avarice\u2014which\n      these writers assure us is in the manner of its formation an exact\n      parallel to conscience. The later followers of Hartley certainly\n      cannot be accused of any excessive predilection for the doctrine of\n      final causes, yet we sometimes find them asking what great\n      difference it can make whether (when conscience is admitted by both\n      parties to be real) it is regarded as an original principle of our\n      nature, or as a product of association? Simply this. If by the\n      constitution of our nature we are subject to a law of duty which is\n      different from and higher than our interest, a man who violates this\n      law through interested motives, is deserving of reprobation. If on\n      the other hand there is no natural law of duty, and if the pursuit\n      of our interest is the one original principle of our being, no one\n      can be censured who pursues it, and the first criterion of a wise\n      man will be his determination to eradicate every habit\n      (conscientious or otherwise) which impedes him in doing so.\n\n_   96 On Human Nature_, chap. ix. \u00a7 10.\n\n_   97 Enquiry concerning Good and Evil._\n\n   98 This theory is noticed by Hutcheson, and a writer in the _Spectator_\n      (No. 436) suggests that it may explain the attraction of\n      prize-fights. The case of the pleasure derived from fictitious\n      sorrow is a distinct question, and has been admirably treated in\n      Lord Kames\u2019 _Essays on Morality_. Bishop Butler notices (_Second\n      Sermon on Compassion_), that it is possible for the very intensity\n      of a feeling of compassion to divert men from charity by making them\n      \u201cindustriously turn away from the miserable;\u201d and it is well known\n      that Goethe, on account of this very susceptibility, made it one of\n      the rules of his life to avoid everything that could suggest painful\n      ideas. Hobbes makes the following very characteristic comments on\n      some famous lines of Lucretius: \u201cFrom what passion proceedeth it\n      that men take pleasure to behold from the shore the danger of those\n      that are at sea in a tempest or in fight, or from a safe castle to\n      behold two armies charge one another in the field? It is certainly\n      in the whole sum joy, else men would never flock to such a\n      spectacle. Nevertheless, there is both joy and grief, for as there\n      is novelty and remembrance of our own security present, which is\n      delight, so there is also pity, which is grief. But the delight is\n      so far predominant that men usually are content in such a case to be\n      spectators of the misery of their friends.\u201d (_On Human Nature_, ch.\n      ix. \u00a7 19.) Good Christians, according to some theologians, are\n      expected to enjoy this pleasure in great perfection in heaven. \u201cWe\n      may believe in the next world also the goodness as well as the\n      happiness of the blest will be confirmed and advanced by reflections\n      naturally arising from the view of the misery which some shall\n      undergo, which seems to be a good reason for the creation of those\n      beings who shall be finally miserable, and for the continuation of\n      them in their miserable existence ... though in one respect the view\n      of the misery which the damned undergo might seem to detract from\n      the happiness of the blessed through pity and commiseration, yet\n      under another, a nearer and much more affecting consideration, viz.\n      that all this is the misery they themselves were often exposed to\n      and in danger of incurring, why may not the sense of their own\n      escape so far overcome the sense of another\u2019s ruin as quite to\n      extinguish the pain that usually attends the idea of it, and even\n      render it productive of some real happiness? To this purpose,\n      Lucretius\u2019 _Suave mari_,\u201d etc. (_Law\u2019s notes to his Translation of\n      King\u2019s Origin of Evil_, pp. 477, 479.)\n\n   99 See e.g. _Reid\u2019s Essays on the Active Powers_, essay iii. ch. v.\n\n  100 The error I have traced in this paragraph will be found running\n      through a great part of what Mr. Buckle has written upon morals\u2014I\n      think the weakest portion of his great work. See, for example, an\n      elaborate confusion on the subject, _History of Civilisation_, vol.\n      ii. p. 429. Mr. Buckle maintains that all the philosophers of what\n      is commonly called \u201cthe Scotch school\u201d (a school founded by the\n      Irishman Hutcheson, and to which Hume does not belong), were\n      incapable of inductive reasoning, because they maintained the\n      existence of a moral sense or faculty, or of first principles,\n      incapable of resolution; and he enters into a learned enquiry into\n      the causes which made it impossible for Scotch writers to pursue or\n      appreciate the inductive method. It is curious to contrast this view\n      with the language of one, who, whatever may be the value of his\n      original speculations, is, I conceive, among the very ablest\n      philosophical critics of the present century. \u201cLes philosophes\n      \u00e9cossais adopt\u00e8rent les proc\u00e9d\u00e9s que Bacon avait recommand\u00e9\n      d\u2019appliquer \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tude du monde physique, et les transport\u00e8rent dans\n      l\u2019\u00e9tude du monde moral. Ils firent voir que l\u2019induction baconienne,\n      c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, l\u2019induction pr\u00e9c\u00e9d\u00e9e d\u2019une observation scrupuleuse des\n      ph\u00e9nom\u00e8nes, est en philosophie comme en physique la seule m\u00e9thode\n      l\u00e9gitime. C\u2019est un de leurs titres les plus honorables d\u2019avoir\n      insist\u00e9 sur cette d\u00e9monstration, et d\u2019avoir en m\u00eame temps joint\n      l\u2019exemple au pr\u00e9cepte.... Il est vrai que le z\u00e8le des philosophes\n      \u00e9cossais en faveur de la m\u00e9thode d\u2019observation leur a presque fait\n      d\u00e9passer le but. Ils ont inclin\u00e9 \u00e0 renfermer la psychologie dans la\n      description minutieuse et continuelle de ph\u00e9nom\u00e8nes de l\u2019\u00e2me sans\n      r\u00e9fl\u00e9chir assez que cette description doit faire place \u00e0 l\u2019induction\n      et au raisonnement d\u00e9ductif, et qu\u2019une philosophie qui se bornerait\n      \u00e0 l\u2019observation serait aussi st\u00e9rile que celle qui s\u2019amuserait \u00e0\n      construire des hypoth\u00e8ses sans avoir pr\u00e9alablement observ\u00e9.\u201d\u2014Cousin,\n      Hist. de la Philos. Morale au xviiime Si\u00e8cle, Tome 4, p. 14-16.\n      Dugald Stewart had said much the same thing, but he was a Scotchman,\n      and therefore, according to Mr. Buckle (_Hist. of Civ._ ii. pp.\n      485-86), incapable of understanding what induction was. I may add\n      that one of the principal objections M. Cousin makes against Locke\n      is, that he investigated the origin of our ideas before analysing\n      minutely their nature, and the propriety of this method is one of\n      the points on which Mr. Mill (_Examination of Sir W. Hamilton_) is\n      at issue with M. Cousin.\n\n  101 M. Ch. Comte, in his very learned _Trait\u00e9 de L\u00e9gislation_, liv. iii.\n      ch. iv., has made an extremely curious collection of instances in\n      which different nations have made their own distinctive\n      peculiarities of colour and form the ideal of beauty.\n\n  102 \u201cHow particularly fine the hard theta is in our English\n      terminations, as in that grand word death, for which the Germans\n      gutturise a sound that _puts you in mind of nothing but a loathsome\n      toad_.\u201d\u2014Coleridge\u2019s _Table Talk_, p. 181.\n\n  103 Mackintosh, _Dissert._ p. 238.\n\n  104 Lord Kames\u2019 _Essays on Morality_ (1st edition), pp. 55-56.\n\n  105 See Butler\u2019s _Three Sermons on Human Nature_, and the preface.\n\n  106 Speaking of the animated statue which he regarded as a\n      representative of man, Condillac says, \u201cLe go\u00fbt peut ordinairement\n      contribuer plus que l\u2019odorat \u00e0 son bonheur et \u00e0 son malheur.... Il y\n      contribue m\u00eame encore plus que les sons harmonieux, parce que le\n      besoin de nourriture lui rend les saveurs plus n\u00e9cessaires, et par\n      cons\u00e9quent les lui fait go\u00fbter avec plus de vivacit\u00e9. La faim pourra\n      la rendre malheureuse, mais d\u00e8s qu\u2019elle aura remarqu\u00e9 les sensations\n      propres \u00e0 l\u2019apaiser, elle y d\u00e9terminera davantage son attention, les\n      d\u00e9sirera avec plus de violence et en jouira avec plus de\n      d\u00e9lire.\u201d\u2014_Trait\u00e9 des Sensations_, 1re partie ch. x.\n\n  107 This is one of the favourite thoughts of Pascal, who, however, in\n      his usual fashion dwells upon it in a somewhat morbid and\n      exaggerated strain. \u201cC\u2019est une bien grande mis\u00e8re que de pouvoir\n      prendre plaisir \u00e0 des choses si basses et si m\u00e9prisables ... l\u2019homme\n      est encore plus \u00e0 plaindre de ce qu\u2019il peut se divertir \u00e0 ces choses\n      si frivoles et si basses, que de ce qu\u2019il s\u2019afflige de ses mis\u00e8res\n      effectives.... D\u2019ou vient que cet homme, qui a perdu depuis peu son\n      fils unique, et qui, accabl\u00e9 de proc\u00e8s et de querelles, \u00e9tait ce\n      matin si troubl\u00e9, n\u2019y pense plus maintenant? Ne vous en \u00e9tonnez pas;\n      il est tout occup\u00e9 \u00e0 voir par o\u00f9 passera un cerf que ses chiens\n      poursuivent.... C\u2019est une joie de malade et de\n      fr\u00e9n\u00e9tique.\u201d\u2014_Pens\u00e9es_ (Mis\u00e8re de l\u2019homme).\n\n  108 \u201cQu\u00e6 singula improvidam mortalitatem involvunt, solum ut inter ista\n      certum sit, nihil esse certi, nec miserius quidquam homine, aut\n      superbius. C\u00e6teris quippe animantium sola victus cura est, in quo\n      sponte natur\u00e6 benignitas sufficit: uno quidem vel pr\u00e6ferenda cunctis\n      bonis, quod de gloria, de pecunia, ambitione, superque de morte, non\n      cogitant.\u201d\u2014Plin. _Hist. Nat._ ii. 5.\n\n  109 Paley, in his very ingenious, and in some respects admirable,\n      chapter on happiness tries to prove the inferiority of animal\n      pleasures, by showing the short time their enjoyment actually lasts,\n      the extent to which they are dulled by repetition, and the cases in\n      which they incapacitate men for other pleasures. But this\n      calculation omits the influence of some animal enjoyments upon\n      health and temperament. The fact, however, that health, which is a\n      condition of body, is the chief source of happiness, Paley fully\n      admits. \u201cHealth,\u201d he says, \u201cis the one thing needful ... when we are\n      in perfect health and spirits, we feel in ourselves a happiness\n      independent of any particular outward gratification.... This is an\n      enjoyment which the Deity has annexed to life, and probably\n      constitutes in a great measure the happiness of infants and brutes\n      ... of oysters, periwinkles, and the like; for which I have\n      sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement.\u201d On the test of\n      happiness he very fairly says, \u201cAll that can be said is that there\n      remains a presumption in favour of those conditions of life in which\n      men generally appear most cheerful and contented; for though the\n      apparent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of their\n      real happiness, it is the best measure we have.\u201d\u2014_Moral Philosophy_,\n      i. 6.\n\n  110 A writer who devoted a great part of his life to studying the deaths\n      of men in different countries, classes, and churches, and to\n      collecting from other physicians information on the subject, says:\n      \u201c\u00c0 mesure qu\u2019on s\u2019\u00e9loigne des grands foyers de civilisation, qu\u2019on\n      se rapproche des plaines et des montagnes, le caract\u00e8re de la mort\n      prend de plus en plus l\u2019aspect calme du ciel par un beau cr\u00e9puscule\n      du soir.... En g\u00e9n\u00e9ral la mort s\u2019accomplit d\u2019une mani\u00e8re d\u2019autant\n      plus simple et naturelle qu\u2019on est plus libre des innombrables liens\n      de la civilisation.\u201d\u2014Lauvergne, _De l\u2019agonie de la Mort_, tome i.\n      pp. 131-132.\n\n  111 \u201cI will omit much usual declamation upon the dignity and capacity of\n      our nature, the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational\n      to the animal part of our constitution, upon the worthiness,\n      refinement, and delicacy of some satisfactions, or the meanness,\n      grossness, and sensuality of others; because I hold that pleasures\n      differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity.\u201d\u2014Paley\u2019s _Moral\n      Philosophy_, book i. ch. vi. Bentham in like manner said, \u201cQuantity\n      of pleasure being equal, pushpin is as good as poetry,\u201d and he\n      maintained that the value of a pleasure depends on\u2014its (1)\n      intensity, (2) duration, (3) certainty, (4) propinquity, (5) purity,\n      (6) fecundity, (7) extent (_Springs of Action_). The recognition of\n      the \u201cpurity\u201d of a pleasure might seem to imply the distinction for\n      which I have contended in the text, but this is not so. The purity\n      of a pleasure or pain, according to Bentham, is \u201cthe chance it has\n      of not being followed by sensations of the opposite kind: that is\n      pain if it be a pleasure, pleasure if it be a pain.\u201d\u2014_Morals and\n      Legislation_, i. \u00a7 8. Mr. Buckle (_Hist. of Civilisation_, vol. ii.\n      pp. 399-400) writes in a somewhat similar strain, but less\n      unequivocally, for he admits that mental pleasures are \u201cmore\n      ennobling\u201d than physical ones. The older utilitarians, as far as I\n      have observed, did not even advert to the question. This being the\n      case, it must have been a matter of surprise as well as of\n      gratification to most intuitive moralists to find Mr. Mill fully\n      recognising the existence of different kinds of pleasure, and\n      admitting that the superiority of the higher kinds does not spring\n      from their being greater in amount.\u2014_Utilitarianism_, pp. 11-12. If\n      it be meant by this that we have the power of recognising some\n      pleasures as superior to others in kind, irrespective of all\n      consideration of their intensity, their cost, and their\n      consequences, I submit that the admission is completely incompatible\n      with the utilitarian theory, and that Mr. Mill has only succeeded in\n      introducing Stoical elements into his system by loosening its very\n      foundation. The impossibility of establishing an aristocracy of\n      enjoyments in which, apart from all considerations of consequences,\n      some which give less pleasure and are less widely diffused are\n      regarded as intrinsically superior to others which give more\n      pleasure and are more general, without admitting into our estimate a\n      moral element, which on utilitarian principles is wholly\n      illegitimate, has been powerfully shown since the first edition of\n      this book by Professor Grote, in his _Examination of the Utilitarian\n      Philosophy_, chap. iii.\n\n  112 B\u00fcchner, _Force et Mati\u00e8re_, pp. 163-164. There is a very curious\n      collection of the speculations of the ancient philosophers on this\n      subject in Plutarch\u2019s treatise, _De Placitis Philos._\n\n  113 Aulus Gellius, _Noctes_, x. 23. The law is given by Dion. Halicarn.\n      Valerius Maximus says, \u201cVini usus olim Romanis feminis ignotus fuit,\n      ne scilicet in aliquod dedecus prolaberentur: quia proximus a Libero\n      patre intemperanti\u00e6 gradus ad inconcessam Venerem esse consuevit\u201d\n      (Val. Max. ii. 1, \u00a7 5). This is also noticed by Pliny (_Hist. Nat._\n      xiv. 14), who ascribes the law to Romulus, and who mentions two\n      cases in which women were said to have been put to death for this\n      offence, and a third in which the offender was deprived of her\n      dowry. Cato said that the ancient Romans were accustomed to kiss\n      their wives for the purpose of discovering whether they had been\n      drinking wine. The Bona Dea, it is said, was originally a woman\n      named Fatua, who was famous for her modesty and fidelity to her\n      husband, but who, unfortunately, having once found a cask of wine in\n      the house, got drunk, and was in consequence scourged to death by\n      her husband. He afterwards repented of his act, and paid divine\n      honours to her memory, and as a memorial of her death, a cask of\n      wine was always placed upon the altar during the rites. (Lactantius,\n      _Div. Inst._ i. 22.) The Milesians, also, and the inhabitants of\n      Marseilles are said to have had laws forbidding women to drink wine\n      (\u00c6lian, _Hist. Var._ ii. 38). Tertullian describes the prohibition\n      of wine among the Roman women as in his time obsolete, and a taste\n      for it was one of the great trials of St. Monica (_Aug. Conf._ x.\n      8).\n\n  114 \u201cLa loi fondamentale de la morale agit sur toutes les nations bien\n      connues. Il y a mille diff\u00e9rences dans les interpr\u00e9tations de cette\n      loi en mille circonstances; mais le fond subsiste toujours le m\u00eame,\n      et ce fond est l\u2019id\u00e9e du juste et de l\u2019injuste.\u201d\u2014Voltaire, _Le\n      Philosophe ignorant_.\n\n  115 The feeling in its favour being often intensified by filial\n      affection. \u201cWhat is the most beautiful thing on the earth?\u201d said\n      Osiris to Horus. \u201cTo avenge a parent\u2019s wrongs,\u201d was the\n      reply.\u2014Plutarch _De Iside et Osiride_.\n\n  116 Hence the Justinian code and also St. Augustine (_De Civ. Dei_, xix.\n      15) derived servus from \u201cservare,\u201d to preserve, because the victor\n      preserved his prisoners alive.\n\n  117 \u201cLes habitants du Congo tuent les malades qu\u2019ils imaginent ne\n      pouvoir en revenir; _c\u2019est, disentils, pour leur \u00e9pargner les\n      douleurs de l\u2019agonie_. Dans l\u2019\u00eele Formose, lorsqu\u2019un homme est\n      dangereusement malade, on lui passe un n\u0153ud coulant au col et on\n      l\u2019\u00e9trangle, _pour l\u2019arracher \u00e0 la douleur_.\u201d\u2014Helv\u00e9tius, _De\n      l\u2019Esprit_, ii. 13. A similar explanation may be often found for\n      customs which are quoted to prove that the nations where they\n      existed had no sense of chastity. \u201cC\u2019est pareillement sous la\n      sauvegarde des lois que les Siamoises, la gorge et les cuisses \u00e0\n      moiti\u00e9 d\u00e9couvertes, port\u00e9es dans les rues sur les palanquins, s\u2019y\n      pr\u00e9sentent dans des attitudes tr\u00e8s-lascives. Cette loi fut \u00e9tablie\n      par une de leurs reines nomm\u00e9e Tirada, qui, _pour d\u00e9go\u00fbter les\n      hommes d\u2019un amour plus d\u00e9shonn\u00eate_, crut devoir employer toute la\n      puissance de la beaut\u00e9.\u201d\u2014_De l\u2019Esprit_, ii. 14.\n\n  118 \u201cThe contest between the morality which appeals to an external\n      standard, and that which grounds itself on internal conviction, is\n      the contest of progressive morality against stationary, of reason\n      and argument against the deification of mere opinion and habit.\u201d\n      (Mill\u2019s _Dissertations_, vol. ii. p. 472); a passage with a true\n      Bentham ring. See, too, vol. i. p. 158. There is, however, a schism\n      on this point in the utilitarian camp. The views which Mr. Buckle\n      has expressed in his most eloquent chapter on the comparative\n      influence of intellectual and moral agencies in civilisation diverge\n      widely from those of Mr. Mill.\n\n  119 \u201cEst enim sensualitas qu\u00e6dam vis anim\u00e6 inferior.... Ratio vero vis\n      anim\u00e6 est superior.\u201d\u2014Peter Lombard, _Sent._ ii. 24.\n\n  120 Helv\u00e9tius, _De l\u2019Esprit_, discours iv. See too, Dr. Draper\u2019s\n      extremely remarkable _History of Intellectual Development in Europe_\n      (New York, 1864), pp. 48, 53.\n\n  121 Plutarch, _De Cohibenda Ira._\n\n  122 Lactantius, _Div. Inst._ i. 22. The mysteries of the Bona Dea\n      became, however, after a time, the occasion of great disorders. See\n      Juvenal, Sat. vi. M. Magnin has examined the nature of these rites\n      (_Origines du Th\u00e9\u00e2tre_, pp. 257-259).\n\n  123 The history of the vestals, which forms one of the most curious\n      pages in the moral history of Rome, has been fully treated by the\n      Abb\u00e9 Nadal, in an extremely interesting and well-written memoir,\n      read before the Acad\u00e9mie des Belles-lettres, and republished in\n      1725. It was believed that the prayer of a vestal could arrest a\n      fugitive slave in his flight, provided he had not got past the city\n      walls. Pliny mentions this belief as general in his time. The\n      records of the order contained many miracles wrought at different\n      times to save the vestals or to vindicate their questioned purity,\n      and also one miracle which is very remarkable as furnishing a\n      precise parallel to that of the Jew who was struck dead for touching\n      the ark to prevent its falling.\n\n  124 As for example the Sibyls and Cassandra. The same prophetic power\n      was attributed in India to virgins.\u2014Clem. Alexandrin. _Strom._ iii.\n      7.\n\n  125 This custom continued to the worst period of the empire, though it\n      was shamefully and characteristically evaded. After the fall of\n      Sejanus the senate had no compunction in putting his innocent\n      daughter to death, but their religious feelings were shocked at the\n      idea of a virgin falling beneath the axe. So by way of improving\n      matters \u201cfilia constuprata est prius a carnifice, quasi impium esset\n      virginem in carcere perire.\u201d\u2014Dion Cassius, lviii. 11. See too,\n      Tacitus, _Annal._ v. 9. If a vestal met a prisoner going to\n      execution the prisoner was spared, provided the vestal declared that\n      the encounter was accidental. On the reverence the ancients paid to\n      virgins, see Justus Lipsius, _De Vesta et Vestalibus_.\n\n  126 See his picture of the first night of marriage:\u2014\n\n      \u201cTacit\u00e8 subit ille supremus\n      Virginitatis amor, prim\u00e6que modestia culp\u00e6\n      Confundit vultus. Tunc ora rigantur honestis\n      Imbribus.\u201d\n\n      _Thebaidos_, lib. ii. 232-34.\n\n  127 Bees (which Virgil said had in them something of the divine nature)\n      were supposed by the ancients to be the special emblems or models of\n      chastity. It was a common belief that the bee mother begot her young\n      without losing her virginity. Thus in a fragment ascribed to\n      Petronius we read,\n\n      \u201cSic sine concubitu textis apis excita ceris\n      Fervet, et audaci milite castra replet.\u201d\n\n      Petron. _De Varia Animalium Generatione._\n\n      So too Virgil:\u2014\n\n      \u201cQuod neque concubitu indulgent nec corpora segnes\n      In Venerem solvunt aut f\u0153tus nixibus edunt.\u201d\u2014_Georg._ iv. 198-99.\n\n      Plutarch says that an unchaste person cannot approach bees, for they\n      immediately attack him and cover him with stings. Fire was also\n      regarded as a type of virginity. Thus Ovid, speaking of the vestals,\n      says:\u2014\n\n      \u201cNataque de fiamma corpora nulla vides:\n      Jure igitur virgo est, qu\u00e6 semina nulla remittit\n      Nec capit, et comites virginitatis amat.\u201d\n\n      \u201cThe Egyptians believed that there are no males among vultures, and\n      they accordingly made that bird an emblem of nature.\u201d\u2014Ammianus\n      Marcellinus, xvii. 4.\n\n  128 \u201cLa divinit\u00e9 \u00e9tant consid\u00e9r\u00e9e comme renfermant en elle toutes les\n      qualit\u00e9s, toutes les forces intellectuelles et morales de l\u2019homme,\n      chacune de ces forces ou de ces qualit\u00e9s, con\u00e7ue s\u00e9par\u00e9ment,\n      s\u2019offrait comme un \u00catre divin.... De-l\u00e0 aussi les contradictions les\n      plus choquantes dans les notions que les anciens avaient des\n      attributs divins.\u201d\u2014Maury, _Hist. des Religions de la Gr\u00e8ce antique_,\n      tome i. pp. 578-579.\n\n  129 \u201cThe Church holds that it were better for sun and moon to drop from\n      heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the many millions who are\n      upon it to die of starvation in extremest agony, so far as temporal\n      affliction goes, than that one soul, I will not say should be lost,\n      but should commit one single venial sin, should tell one wilful\n      untruth, though it harmed no one, or steal one poor farthing without\n      excuse.\u201d\u2014Newman\u2019s _Anglican Difficulties_, p. 190.\n\n  130 There is a remarkable dissertation on this subject, called \u201cThe\n      Limitations of Morality,\u201d in a very ingenious and suggestive little\n      work of the Benthamite school, called _Essays by a Barrister_\n      (reprinted from the _Saturday Review_).\n\n  131 The following passage, though rather vague and rhetorical, is not\n      unimpressive: \u201cOui, dit Jacobi, je mentirais comme Desdemona\n      mourante, je tromperais comme Oreste quand il veut mourir \u00e0 la place\n      de Pylade, j\u2019assassinerais comme Timol\u00e9on, je serais parjure comme\n      \u00c9paminondas et Jean de Witt, je me d\u00e9terminerais au suicide comme\n      Caton, je serais sacril\u00e9ge comme David; car j\u2019ai la certitude en\n      moi-m\u00eame qu\u2019en pardonnant \u00e0 ces fautes suivant la lettre l\u2019homme\n      exerce le droit souverain que la majest\u00e9 de son \u00eatre lui conf\u00e8re; il\n      appose le sceau de sa divine nature sur la gr\u00e2ce qu\u2019il\n      accorde.\u201d\u2014Barchou de Penhoen, _Hist. de la Philos. allemande_, tome\n      i. p. 295.\n\n  132 This equivocation seems to me to lie at the root of the famous\n      dispute whether man is by nature a social being, or whether, as\n      Hobbes averred, the state of nature is a state of war. Few persons\n      who have observed the recent light thrown on the subject will\n      question that the primitive condition of man was that of savage\n      life, and fewer still will question that savage life is a state of\n      war. On the other hand, it is, I think, equally certain that man\n      necessarily becomes a social being in exact proportion to the\n      development of the capacities of his nature.\n\n  133 One of the best living authorities on this question writes: \u201cThe\n      asserted existence of savages so low as to have no moral standard is\n      too groundless to be discussed. Every human tribe has its general\n      views as to what conduct is right and what wrong, and each\n      generation hands the standard on to the next. Even in the details of\n      their moral standards, wide as their differences are, there is yet\n      wider agreement throughout the human race.\u201d\u2014Tylor on Primitive\n      Society, _Contemporary Review_, April 1873, p. 702.\n\n  134 The distinction between innate faculties evolved by experience and\n      innate ideas independent of experience, and the analogy between the\n      expansion of the former and that of the bud into the flower has been\n      very happily treated by Reid. (_On the Active Powers_, essay iii.\n      chap. viii. p. 4.) Professor Sedgwick, criticising Locke\u2019s notion of\n      the soul being originally like a sheet of white paper, beautifully\n      says: \u201cNaked man comes from his mother\u2019s womb, endowed with limbs\n      and senses indeed well fitted to the material world, yet powerless\n      from want of use; and as for knowledge, his soul is one unvaried\n      blank; yet has this blank been already touched by a celestial hand,\n      and when plunged in the colours which surround it, it takes not its\n      tinge from accident but design, and comes forth covered with a\n      glorious pattern.\u201d (_On the Studies of the University_, p. 54.)\n      Leibnitz says: \u201cL\u2019esprit n\u2019est point une table rase. Il est tout\n      plein de caract\u00e8res que la sensation ne peut que d\u00e9couvrir et mettre\n      en lumi\u00e8re au lieu de les y imprimer. Je me suis servi de la\n      comparaison d\u2019une pierre de marbre qui a des veines plut\u00f4t que d\u2019une\n      pierre de marbre tout unie.... S\u2019il y avait dans la pierre des\n      veines qui marquassent la figure d\u2019Hercule pr\u00e9f\u00e9rablement \u00e0 d\u2019autres\n      figures, ... Hercule y serait comme inn\u00e9 en quelque fa\u00e7on, quoiqu\u2019il\n      fall\u00fbt du travail pour d\u00e9couvrir ces veines.\u201d\u2014_Critique de l\u2019Essai\n      sur l\u2019Entendement._\n\n  135 The argument against the intuitive moralists derived from savage\n      life was employed at some length by Locke. Paley then adopted it,\n      taking a history of base ingratitude related by Valerius Maximus,\n      and asking whether a savage would view it with disapprobation.\n      (_Moral Phil._ book i. ch. 5.) Dugald Stewart (_Active and Moral\n      Powers_, vol. i. pp. 230-231) and other writers have very fully\n      answered this, but the same objection has been revived in another\n      form by Mr. Austin, who supposes (_Lectures on Jurisprudence_, vol.\n      i. pp. 82-83) a savage who first meets a hunter carrying a dead\n      deer, kills the hunter and steals the deer, and is afterwards\n      himself assailed by another hunter whom he kills. Mr. Austin asks\n      whether the savage would perceive a moral difference between these\n      two acts of homicide? Certainly not. In this early stage of\n      development, the savage recognises a duty of justice and humanity to\n      the members of his tribe, but to no one beyond this circle. He is in\n      a \u201cstate of war\u201d with the foreign hunter. He has a right to kill the\n      hunter and the hunter an equal right to kill him.\n\n  136 Everyone who is acquainted with metaphysics knows that there has\n      been an almost endless controversy about Locke\u2019s meaning on this\n      point. The fact seems to be that Locke, like most great originators\n      of thought, and indeed more than most, often failed to perceive the\n      ultimate consequences of his principles, and partly through some\n      confusion of thought, and partly through unhappiness of expression,\n      has left passages involving the conclusions of both schools. As a\n      matter of history the sensual school of Condillac grew professedly\n      out of his philosophy. In defence of the legitimacy of the process\n      by which these writers evolved their conclusions from the premisses\n      of Locke, the reader may consult the very able lectures of M. Cousin\n      on Locke. The other side has been treated, among others, by Dugald\n      Stewart in his _Dissertation_, by Professor Webb in his\n      _Intellectualism of Locke_, and by Mr. Rogers in an essay reprinted\n      from the _Edinburgh Review_.\n\n  137 I make this qualification, because I believe that the denial of a\n      moral nature in man capable of perceiving the distinction between\n      duty and interest and the rightful supremacy of the former, is both\n      philosophically and actually subversive of natural theology.\n\n  138 See the forcible passage in the life of Epicurus by Diogenes\n      La\u00ebrtius. So Mackintosh: \u201cIt is remarkable that, while, of the three\n      professors who sat in the Porch from Zeno to Posidonius, every one\n      either softened or exaggerated the doctrines of his predecessor, and\n      while the beautiful and reverend philosophy of Plato had in his own\n      Academy degenerated into a scepticism which did not spare morality\n      itself, the system of Epicurus remained without change; his\n      disciples continued for ages to show personal honour to his memory\n      in a manner which may seem unaccountable among those who were taught\n      to measure propriety by a calculation of palpable and outward\n      usefulness.\u201d\u2014_Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy_, p. 85, ed. 1836.\n      See, too, Tennemann (_Manuel de la Philosophie_, ed. Cousin, tome i.\n      p. 211).\n\n  139 Thus e.g. the magnificent chapters of Helv\u00e9tius on the moral effects\n      of despotism, form one of the best modern contributions to political\n      ethics. We have a curious illustration of the emphasis with which\n      this school dwells on the moral importance of institutions in a\n      memoir of M. De Tracy, _On the best Plan of National Education_,\n      which appeared first towards the close of the French Revolution, and\n      was reprinted during the Restoration. The author, who was one of the\n      most distinguished of the disciples of Condillac, argued that the\n      most efficient of all ways of educating a people is, the\n      establishment of a good system of police, for the constant\n      association of the ideas of crime and punishment in the minds of the\n      masses is the one effectual method of creating moral habits, which\n      will continue to act when the fear of punishment is removed.\n\n  140 An important intellectual revolution is at present taking place in\n      England. The ascendency in literary and philosophical questions\n      which belonged to the writers of books is manifestly passing in a\n      very great degree to weekly and even daily papers, which have long\n      been supreme in politics, and have begun within the last ten years\n      systematically to treat ethical and philosophical questions. From\n      their immense circulation, their incontestable ability and the power\n      they possess of continually reiterating their distinctive doctrines,\n      from the impatience, too, of long and elaborate writings, which\n      newspapers generate in the public, it has come to pass that these\n      periodicals exercise probably a greater influence than any other\n      productions of the day, in forming the ways of thinking of ordinary\n      educated Englishmen. The many consequences, good and evil, of this\n      change it will be the duty of future literary historians to trace,\n      but there is one which is, I think, much felt in the sphere of\n      ethics. An important effect of these journals has been to evoke a\n      large amount of literary talent in the lawyer class. Men whose\n      professional duties would render it impossible for them to write\n      long books, are quite capable of treating philosophical subjects in\n      the form of short essays, and have in fact become conspicuous in\n      these periodicals. There has seldom, I think, before, been a time\n      when lawyers occupied such an important literary position as at\n      present, or when legal ways of thinking had so great an influence\n      over English philosophy; and this fact has been eminently favourable\n      to the progress of utilitarianism.\n\n  141 There are some good remarks on this point in the very striking\n      chapter on the present condition of Christianity in Wilberforce\u2019s\n      _Practical View_.\n\n  142 See Reid\u2019s _Essays on the Active Powers_, iii. i.\n\n  143 I say usually proportioned, because it is, I believe, possible for\n      men to realise intensely suffering, and to derive pleasure from that\n      very fact. This is especially the case with vindictive cruelty, but\n      it is not, I think, altogether confined to that sphere. This\n      question we shall have occasion to examine when discussing the\n      gladiatorial shows. Most cruelty, however, springs from callousness,\n      which is simply dulness of imagination.\n\n  144 The principal exception being where slavery, coexisting with\n      advanced civilisation, retards or prevents the growth of industrial\n      habits.\n\n  145 See Mr. Laing\u2019s _Travels in Sweden_. A similar cause is said to have\n      had a similar effect in Bavaria.\n\n  146 This has been, I think, especially the case with the Austrians.\n\n  147 See some remarkable instances of this in Cabanis, _Rapports du\n      Physique et du Moral de l\u2019Homme_.\n\n  148 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Pythag._\n\n  149 Plutarch, _De Profectibus in Virt._\n\n  150 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Stilpo._\n\n  151 Clem. Alexand. _Strom._ vii.\n\n  152 Cicero, _De Nat. Deorum_, i. 1.\n\n  153 Lactant. _Inst. Div._ i. 5.\n\n  154 \u201cPythagoras ita definivit quid esset Deus: Animus qui per universas\n      mundi partes, omnemque naturam commeans atque diffusus, ex quo omnia\n      qu\u00e6 nascuntur animalia vitam capiunt.\u201d\u2014Ibid. Lactantius in this\n      chapter has collected several other philosophic definitions of the\n      Divinity. See too Plutarch, _De Placit. Philos._ Tertullian explains\n      the stoical theory by an ingenious illustration: \u201cStoici enim volunt\n      Deum sic per materiem decucurrisse quomodo mel per favos.\u201d\u2014Tert. _De\n      Anima_.\n\n  155 As Cicero says: \u201cEpicurus re tollit, oratione relinquit, deos.\u201d\u2014_De\n      Nat. Deor._ i. 44.\n\n  156 Sometimes, however, they restricted its operation to the great\n      events of life. As an interlocutor in Cicero says: \u201cMagna dii\n      curant, parva negligunt.\u201d\u2014Cic. _De Natur. Deor._ ii. 66. Justin\n      Martyr notices (_Trypho_, i.) that some philosophers maintained that\n      God cared for the universal or species, but not for the individual.\n      Seneca maintains that the Divinity has determined all things by an\n      inexorable law of destiny, which He has decreed, but which He\n      Himself obeys. (_De Provident._ v.)\n\n  157 See on this theory Cicero, _De Natur. Deor._ i. 42; Lactantius,\n      _Inst. Div._ i. 11.\n\n  158 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Vit. Zeno._ St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, iv. 11. Maximus of\n      Tyre, _Dissert._ x. (in some editions xxix.) \u00a7 8. Seneca, _De\n      Beneficiis_, iv. 7-8. Cic. _De Natur. Deor._ i. 15. Cicero has\n      devoted the first two books of this work to the stoical theology. A\n      full review of the allegorical and mythical interpretations of\n      paganism is given by Eusebius, _Evang. Pr\u00e6par._ lib. iii.\n\n  159 St. Aug. _De Civ._ vii. 5.\n\n  160 Plin. _Hist. Nat_. ii. 1.\n\n  161 \u201cNec vero Deus ipse qui intelligitur a nobis, alio modo intelligi\n      potest nisi mens soluta qu\u00e6dam et libera, segregata ab omni\n      concretione mortali, omnia sentiens et movens, ipsaque pr\u00e6dita motu\n      sempiterno.\u201d\u2014_Tusc. Qu\u00e6st_. i. 27.\n\n  162 Senec. _Qu\u00e6st. Nat._ ii. 45.\n\n  163 \u201cEstne Dei sedes, nisi terra et pontus et a\u00ebr.\n      Et c\u0153lum et virtus? Superos quid qu\u00e6rimus ultra?\n      Jupiter est quodcumque vides, quodcumque moveris.\u201d\n\n      _Pharsal._ ix. 578-80.\n\n  164 \u201cQu\u00e6ve anus tam excors inveniri potest, qu\u00e6 illa, qu\u00e6 quondam\n      credebantur apud inferos portenta, extimescat?\u201d\u2014Cic. _De Nat. Deor._\n      ii. 2.\n\n      \u201cEsse aliques Manes et subterranea regna ...\n      Nec pueri credunt nisi qui nondum \u00e6re lavantur.\u201d\n\n      Juv. _Sat._ ii. 149, 152.\n\n      See on this subject a good review by the Abb\u00e9 Freppel, _Les P\u00e8res\n      Apostoliques_, le\u00e7on viii.\n\n  165 Cicero, _De Leg._ i. 14; Macrobius, _In. Som. Scip._ i. 10.\n\n  166 See his works _De Divinatione_ and _De Nat. Deorum_, which form a\n      curious contrast to the religious conservatism of the _De Legibus_,\n      which was written chiefly from a political point of view.\n\n  167 Eusebius, _Pr\u00e6p. Evang._ lib. iv.\n\n  168 The oracles first gave their answers in verse, but their bad poetry\n      was ridiculed, and they gradually sank to prose, and at last ceased.\n      Plutarch defended the inspiration of the bad poetry on the ground\n      that the inspiring spirit availed itself of the natural faculties of\n      the priestess for the expression of its infallible truths\u2014a theory\n      which is still much in vogue among Biblical critics, and is, I\n      believe, called dynamical inspiration. See Fontenelle, _Hist. des\n      Oracles_ (1st ed.), pp. 292-293.\n\n  169 See the famous description of Cato refusing to consult the oracle of\n      Jupiter Ammon in Lucan, _Phars._ ix.; and also Arrian, ii. 7. Seneca\n      beautifully says, \u201cVis deos propitiare? bonus esto. Satis illos\n      coluit quisquis imitatus est.\u201d\u2014_Ep._ xcv.\n\n  170 Cicero, _De Divin_. ii. 24.\n\n  171 Aulus Gellius, _Noct. Att._ xv. 22.\n\n  172 See a long string of witticisms collected by Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de\n      l\u2019Opinion, ou M\u00e9moires pour servir \u00e0 l\u2019Histoire de l\u2019Esprit humain_\n      (Venise, 1735), tome i. pp. 386-387.\n\n  173 See Cicero, _De Natura Deorum_; Seneca, _De Brev. Vit._ c. xvi.;\n      Plin. _Hist. Nat._ ii. 5; Plutarch, _De Superstitione_.\n\n  174 \u201cOlim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum,\n      Cum faber, incertus scamnum faceretne Priapum,\n      Maluit esse Deum.\u201d\n\n      _Sat._ I. viii. 1-3.\n\n  175 There is a very curious discussion on this subject, reported to have\n      taken place between Apollonius of Tyana and an Egyptian priest. The\n      former defended the Greek fashion of worshipping the Divinity under\n      the form of the human image, sculptured by Phidias and Praxiteles,\n      this being the noblest form we can conceive, and therefore the least\n      inadequate to the Divine perfections. The latter defended the\n      Egyptian custom of worshipping animals, because, as he said, it is\n      blasphemous to attempt to conceive an image of the Deity, and the\n      Egyptians therefore concentrate the imagination of the worshipper on\n      objects that are plainly merely allegorical or symbolical, and do\n      not pretend to offer any such image (_Philos. Apoll. of Tyana_, vi.\n      19). Pliny shortly says, \u201cEffigiem Dei formamque qu\u00e6rere\n      imbecillitatis human\u00e6 reor\u201d (_Hist. Nat._ ii. 5). See too Max.\n      Tyrius, Diss. xxxviii. There was a legend that Numa forbade all\n      idols, and that for 200 years they were unknown in Rome (Plutarch,\n      _Life of Numa_). Dion Chrysostom said that the Gods need no statues\n      or sacrifices, but that by these means we attest our devotion to\n      them (_Orat._ xxxi.). On the vanity of rich idols, see Plutarch, _De\n      Superstitione_; Seneca, _Ep._ xxxi.\n\n  176 1 Lact. _Inst. Div._ vi. 25.\n\n  177 Dion. Halic. ii.; Polyb. vi. 56.\n\n  178 St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, iv. 31.\n\n  179 Epictetus, _Enchir._ xxxix.\n\n  180 Cicero, speaking of the worship of deified men, says, \u201cindicat\n      omnium quidem animos immortales esse, sed fortium bonorumque\n      divinos.\u201d\u2014_De Leg._ ii. 11. The Roman worship of the dead, which was\n      the centre of the domestic religion, has been recently investigated\n      with much ability by M. Coulanges (_La Cit\u00e9 antique_).\n\n  181 On the minute supervision exercised by the censors on all the\n      details of domestic life, see Aul. Gell. _Noct._ ii. 24; iv. 12, 20.\n\n  182 Livy, xxxix. 6.\n\n  183 Vell. Paterculus, i. 11-13; Eutropius, iv. 6. Sallust ascribed the\n      decadence of Rome to the destruction of its rival, Carthage.\n\n  184 Plutarch, _De Adulatore et Amico_.\n\n  185 There is much curious information about the growth of Roman luxury\n      in Pliny (_Hist. Nat._ lib. xxxiv.). The movement of decomposition\n      has been lately fully traced by Mommsen (_Hist. of Rome_); D\u00f6llinger\n      (_Jew and Gentile_); Denis (_ Hist. des Id\u00e9es morales dans\n      l\u2019Antiquit\u00e9_); Pressens\u00e9 (_Hist. des trois premiers Si\u00e8cles_); in\n      the histories of Champagny, and in the beautiful closing chapters of\n      the _Ap\u00f4tres_ of Renan.\n\n  186 Sueton. _Aug._ xvi.\n\n  187 Ibid. _Calig._ v.\n\n  188 Persius, _Sat._ ii.; Horace, _Ep._ i. 16, vv. 57-60.\n\n  189 See, on the identification of the Greek and Egyptian myths,\n      Plutarch\u2019s _De Iside et Osiride_. The Greek and Roman gods were\n      habitually regarded as identical, and C\u00e6sar and Tacitus, in like\n      manner, identified the deities of Gaul and Germany with those of\n      their own country. See D\u00f6llinger, _Jew and Gentile_, vol. ii. pp.\n      160-165.\n\n  190 \u201cEgo de\u00fbm genus esse semper dixi et dicam c\u0153litum; Sed eos non\n      curare opinor quid agat hominum genus.\u201d\n\n      Cicero adds: \u201cmagno plausu loquitur assentiente populo.\u201d\u2014_De Divin._\n      ii. 50.\n\n  191 Plutarch, _De Superstitione_.\n\n  192 St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 6; Tertul. _Apol._ 15; Arnobius, _Adv.\n      Gentes_, iv.\n\n  193 \u201cPars alia et hanc pellit, astroque suo eventus assignat, nascendi\n      legibus; semelque in omnes futuros unquam Deo decretum; in reliquum\n      vero otium datum. Sedere c\u0153pit sententia h\u00e6c pariterque et eruditum\n      vulgus et rude in eam cursu vadit. Ecce fulgurum monitus, oraculorum\n      pr\u00e6scita, aruspicum pr\u00e6dicta, atque etiam parva dictu, in auguriis\n      sternumenta et offensiones pedum.\u201d\u2014_Hist. Nat._ ii. 5. Pliny himself\n      expresses great doubt about astrology giving many examples of men\n      with different destinies, who had been born at the same time, and\n      therefore under the same stars (vii. 50). Tacitus expresses complete\n      doubt about the existence of Providence. (_Ann._ vi. 22.) Tiberius\n      is said to have been very indifferent to the gods and to the worship\n      of the temples, being wholly addicted to astrology and convinced\n      that all things were pre-ordained. (_Suet. Tib._ lxix.)\n\n  194 Ammianus Marcellinus, xxviii.\n\n_  195 De Profectibus in Virt._ It was originally the custom at Roman\n      feasts to sing to a pipe the actions and the virtues of the greatest\n      men. (Cic. _Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ iv.)\n\n  196 E.g. Epictetus, _Ench._ lii. Seneca is full of similar exhortations.\n\n  197 According to Cicero, the first Latin work on philosophy was by the\n      Epicurean Amafanius. (_Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ iv.)\n\n  198 See on the great perfection of the character of Epicurus his life by\n      Diogenes La\u00ebrtius, and on the purity of the philosophy he taught and\n      the degree in which it was distorted and misrepresented by his Roman\n      followers. Seneca _De Vita Beata_, c. xii. xiii. and _Ep._ xxi.\n      Gassendi, in a very interesting little work entitled _Philosophi\u00e6\n      Epicuri Syntagma_, has abundantly proved the possibility of uniting\n      Epicurean principles with a high code of morals. But probably the\n      most beautiful picture of the Epicurean system is the first book of\n      the _De Finibus_, in which Cicero endeavours to paint it as it would\n      have been painted by its adherents. When we remember that the writer\n      of this book was one of the most formidable and unflinching\n      opponents of Epicureanism in all the ancient world, it must be owned\n      that it would be impossible to find a grander example of that noble\n      love of truth, that sublime and scrupulous justice to opponents,\n      which was the pre-eminent glory of ancient philosophers, and which,\n      after the destruction of philosophy, was for many centuries almost\n      unknown in the world. It is impossible to doubt that Epicureanism\n      was logically compatible with a very high degree of virtue. It is, I\n      think, equally impossible to doubt that its practical tendency was\n      towards vice.\n\n  199 Mr. Grote gives the following very clear summary of Plato\u2019s ethical\n      theory, which he believes to be original:\u2014\u201cJustice is in the mind a\n      condition analogous to good health and strength in the body.\n      Injustice is a condition analogous to sickness, corruption,\n      impotence in the body.... To possess a healthy body is desirable for\n      its consequences as a means towards other constituents of happiness,\n      but it is still more desirable in itself as an essential element of\n      happiness _per se_, i.e., the negation of sickness, which would of\n      itself make us miserable.... In like manner, the just mind blesses\n      the possessor twice: first and chiefly by bringing to him happiness\n      in itself; next, also, as it leads to ulterior happy results. The\n      unjust mind is a curse to its possessor in itself and apart from\n      results, though it also leads to ulterior results which render it\n      still more a curse to him.\u201d\u2014Grote\u2019s _Plato_, vol. iii. p. 131.\n      According to Plutarch, Aristo of Chio defined virtue as \u201cthe health\n      of the soul.\u201d (_De Virtute Morali._)\n\n  200 \u201cBeata est ergo vita conveniens natur\u00e6 su\u00e6; qu\u00e6 non aliter\n      contingere potest quam si primum sana mens est et in perpetu\u00e2\n      possessione sanitatis su\u00e6.\u201d\u2014Seneca, _De Vita Beata_, c. iii.\n\n  201 The famous paradox that \u201cthe sage could be happy even in the bull of\n      Phalaris,\u201d comes from the writings not of Zeno but of\n      Epicurus\u2014though the Stoics adopted and greatly admired it. (Cic.\n      _Tusc._ ii. See Gassendi, _Philos. Epicuri Syntagma_, pars iii. c.\n      1.)\n\n  202 \u201cSed nescio quomodo dum lego assentior; cum posui librum et mecum\n      ipse de immortalitate animorum c\u0153pi cogitare, assensio omnis illa\n      elabitur.\u201d\u2014Cic. _Tusc._ i.\n\n  203 Sallust, _Catilina_, cap. li.\n\n  204 See that most impressive passage (_Hist. Nat._ vii. 56). That the\n      sleep of annihilation is the happiest end of man is a favourite\n      thought of Lucretius. Thus:\n\n      \u201cNil igitur mors est, ad nos neque pertinet hilum,\n      Quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.\u201d\u2014iii. 842.\n\n      This mode of thought has been recently expressed in Mr. Swinburne\u2019s\n      very beautiful poem on _The Garden of Proserpine_.\n\n  205 Diog. La\u00ebrtius. The opinion of Chrysippus seems to have prevailed,\n      and Plutarch (_De Placit. Philos._) speaks of it as that of the\n      school. Cicero sarcastically says, \u201cStoici autem usuram nobis\n      largiuntur, tanquam cornicibus: diu mansuros aiunt animos; semper,\n      negant.\u201d\u2014_Tusc. Disp._ i. 31.\n\n  206 It has been very frequently asserted that Antigonus of Socho having\n      taught that virtue should be practised for its own sake, his\n      disciple, Zadok, the founder of the Sadducees, inferred the\n      non-existence of a future world; but the evidence for this whole\n      story is exceedingly unsatisfactory. The reader may find its history\n      in a very remarkable article by Mr. Twisleton on _Sadducees_, in\n      Smith\u2019s _Biblical Dictionary_.\n\n  207 On the Stoical opinions about a future life see Martin, _La Vie\n      future_ (Paris, 1858); Courdaveaux _De l\u2019immortalit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00e2me dans\n      le Sto\u00efcisme_ (Paris, 1857); and Alger\u2019s _Critical Hist. of the\n      Doctrine of a Future Life_ (New York, 1866).\n\n  208 His arguments are met by Cicero in the _Tusculans_.\n\n  209 See a collection of passages from his discourses collected by M.\n      Courdaveaux, in the introduction to his French translation of that\n      book.\n\n  210 Stob\u00e6us, _Eclog. Physic._ lib. i. cap. 52.\n\n  211 In his consolations to Marcia, he seems to incline to a belief in\n      the immortality, or at least the future existence, of the soul. In\n      many other passages, however, he speaks of it as annihilated at\n      death.\n\n  212 \u201cLes Sto\u00efciens ne faisaient aucunement d\u00e9pendre la morale de la\n      perspective des peines ou de la r\u00e9mun\u00e9ration dans une vie future....\n      La croyance \u00e0 l\u2019immortalit\u00e9 de l\u2019\u00e2me n\u2019appartenait donc, selon leur\n      mani\u00e8re de voir, qu\u2019\u00e0 la physique, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire \u00e0 la\n      psychologie.\u201d\u2014Degerando, _Hist. de la Philos._ tome iii. p. 56.\n\n  213 \u201cPan\u00e6tius igitur, qui sine controversia de officiis accuratissime\n      disputavit, quemque nos, correctione quadam adhibita, potissimum\n      secuti sumus.\u201d\u2014_De Offic._ iii. 2.\n\n  214 Marcus Aurelius thanks Providence, as for one of the great blessings\n      of his life, that he had been made acquainted with the writings of\n      Epictetus. The story is well known how the old philosopher warned\n      his master, who was beating him, that he would soon break his leg,\n      and when the leg was broken, calmly remarked, \u201cI told you you would\n      do so.\u201d Celsus quoted this in opposition to the Christians, asking,\n      \u201cDid your leader under suffering ever say anything so noble?\u201d Origen\n      finely replied, \u201cHe did what was still nobler\u2014He kept silence.\u201d A\n      Christian anchorite (some say St. Nilus, who lived in the beginning\n      of the fifth century) was so struck with the _Enchiridion_ of\n      Epictetus, that he adapted it to Christian use. The conversations of\n      Epictetus, as reported by Arrian, are said to have been the\n      favourite reading of Toussaint l\u2019Ouverture.\n\n  215 Tacitus had used this expression before Milton: \u201cQuando etiam\n      sapientibus cupido glori\u00e6 novissima exuitur.\u201d\u2014_Hist._ iv. 6.\n\n  216 Two remarkable instances have come down to us of eminent writers\n      begging historians to adorn and even exaggerate their acts. See the\n      very curious letters of Cicero to the historian Lucceius (_Ep. ad\n      Divers._ v. 12); and of the younger Pliny to Tacitus (_Ep._ vii.\n      33). Cicero has himself confessed that he was too fond of glory.\n\n  217 \u201cUnus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem;\n      Non ponebat enim rumores ante salutem.\u201d\u2014Ennius.\n\n  218 See the beautiful description of Cato\u2019s tranquillity under insults.\n      Seneca, _De Ira_, ii. 33; _De Const. Sap._ 1, 2.\n\n_  219 De Officiis_, iii. 9.\n\n_  220 Tusc._ ii. 26.\n\n  221 Seneca, _De Vit. Beat._ c. xx.\n\n  222 Seneca, _Ep._ cxiii.\n\n  223 Seneca, _Ep._ lxxxi.\n\n  224 Persius, _Sat._ i. 45-47.\n\n  225 Epictetus, _Ench._ xxiii.\n\n  226 Seneca, _De Ira_, iii. 41.\n\n  227 Seneca, _Cons. ad Helv._ xiii.\n\n  228 Marc. Aur. vii. 67.\n\n  229 Marc. Aur. iv. 20.\n\n  230 Pliny, _Ep._ i. 22.\n\n  231 \u201cNon dux, sed comes voluptas.\u201d\u2014_De Vit. Beat._ c. viii.\n\n  232 \u201cVoluptas non est merces nec causa virtutis sed accessio; nec quia\n      delectat placet sed quia placet delectat.\u201d\u2014Ibid., c. ix.\n\n  233 Peregrinus apud Aul. Gellius, xii. 11. Peregrinus was a Cynic, but\n      his doctrine on this point was identical with that of the Stoics.\n\n  234 Marc. Aurel. ix. 42.\n\n  235 Marc. Aurel. v. 6.\n\n  236 Seneca, however, in one of his letters (_Ep._ lxxv.), subtilises a\n      good deal on this point. He draws a distinction between affections\n      and maladies. The first, he says, are irrational, and therefore\n      reprehensible movements of the soul, which, if repeated and\n      unrepressed, tend to form an irrational and evil habit, and to the\n      last he in this letter restricts the term disease. He illustrates\n      this distinction by observing that colds and any other slight\n      ailments, if unchecked and neglected, may produce an organic\n      disease. The wise man, he says, is wholly free from moral disease,\n      but no man can completely emancipate himself from affections, though\n      he should make this his constant object.\n\n_  237 De Clem._ ii. 6, 7.\n\n  238 \u201cPeccantes vero quid habet cur oderit, cum error illos in hujusmodi\n      delicta compellat?\u201d\u2014Sen. _De Ira_, i. 14. This is a favourite\n      thought of Marcus Aurelius, to which he reverts again and again.\n      See, too, Arrian, i. 18.\n\n  239 \u201cErgo ne homini quidem nocebimus quia peccavit sed ne peccet, nec\n      unquam ad pr\u00e6teritum sed ad futurum p\u0153na referetur.\u201d\u2014Ibid. ii. 31.\n      In the philosophy of Plato, on the other hand, punishment was\n      chiefly expiatory and purificatory. (Lerminier, _Introd. \u00e0\n      l\u2019Histoire du Droit_, p. 123.)\n\n  240 Seneca, _De Constant. Sap._ v. Compare and contrast this famous\n      sentence of Anaxagoras with that of one of the early Christian\n      hermits. Someone told the hermit that his father was dead. \u201cCease\n      your blasphemy,\u201d he answered, \u201cmy father is immortal.\u201d\u2014Socrates,\n      _Eccl. Hist._ iv 23.\n\n  241 Epictetus, _Ench._ 16, 18.\n\n  242 The dispute about whether anything but virtue is a good, was, in\n      reality, a somewhat childish quarrel about words; for the Stoics,\n      who indignantly denounced the Peripatetics for maintaining the\n      affirmative, admitted that health, friends, &c., should be sought\n      not as \u201cgoods\u201d but as \u201cpreferables.\u201d See a long discussion on this\n      matter in Cicero (_De Finib._ lib. iii. iv.). The Stoical doctrine\n      of the equality of all vices was formally repudiated by Marcus\n      Aurelius, who maintained (ii. 10), with Theophrastus, that faults of\n      desire were worse than faults of anger. The other Stoics, while\n      dogmatically asserting the equality of all virtues as well as the\n      equality of all vices, in their particular judgments graduated their\n      praise or blame much in the same way as the rest of the world.\n\n  243 See Seneca (_Ep._ lxxxix.). Seneca himself, however, has devoted a\n      work to natural history, but the general tendency of the school was\n      certainly to concentrate all attention upon morals, and all, or\n      nearly all the great naturalists were Epicureans. Cicero puts into\n      the mouth of the Epicurean the sentence, \u201cOmnium autem rerum natura\n      cognita levamur superstitione, liberamur mortis metu, non\n      conturbamur ignoratione rerum\u201d (_De Fin._ i.); and Virgil expressed\n      an eminently Epicurean sentiment in his famous lines:\u2014\n\n      \u201cFelix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,\n      Quique metus omnes et inexorabile fatum\n      Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque\n      Acherontis avari.\u201d\n\n      _Georg._ 490-492.\n\n  244 Plutarch, _Cato Major_.\n\n  245 Cicero, _Ad Attic._ vi. 2.\n\n  246 This contrast is noticed and largely illustrated by M. Mont\u00e9e in his\n      interesting little work _Le Sto\u00efcisme \u00e0 Rome_, and also by Legendre\n      in his _Trait\u00e9 de l\u2019Opinion, ou M\u00e9moires pour servir \u00e0 l\u2019histoire de\n      l\u2019esprit humain_ (Venise, 1735).\n\n  247 \u201cAtque hoc quidem omnes mortales sic habent ... commoditatem\n      prosperitatemque vit\u00e6 a diis se habere, virtutem autem nemo unquam\n      acceptam deo retulit. Nimirum recte. Propter virtutem enim jure\n      laudamur et in virtute recte gloriamur. Quod non contingeret si id\n      donum a deo, non a nobis haberemus.\u201d\u2014Cicero, _De Nat. Deor._ iii.\n      36.\n\n_  248 Ep._ i. 18.\n\n  249 Seneca _Ep._ lxvi.\n\n  250 Lucretius, v. It was a Greek proverb, that Apollo begat \u00c6sculapius\n      to heal the body, and Plato to heal the soul. (Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de\n      l\u2019Opinion_, tome i. p. 197.)\n\n  251 \u201cOrandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano:\n      Fortem posce animum, mortis terrore carentem....\n      Monstro, quod ipse tibi possis dare.\u201d\n\n      Juvenal, _Sat._ x. 356.\n\n      Marcus Aurelius recommends prayer, but only that we may be freed\n      from evil desires. (ix. 11.)\n\n  252 Seneca, _Ep._ lxvi.\n\n  253 Ibid. _Ep._ liii.\n\n_  254 De Const. Sap._ viii.\n\n_  255 Ench._ xlviii.\n\n  256 Arrian, i. 12.\n\n  257 Arrian, ii. 8. The same doctrine is strongly stated in Seneca, _Ep._\n      xcii.\n\n  258 Cicero, _De Nat. Deor._ ii. 66.\n\n_  259 Ep._ lxxxiii. Somewhat similar sentiments are attributed to Thales\n      and Bion (Diog. La\u00ebrt.).\n\n_  260 Ep._ xli. There are some beautiful sentiments of this kind in\n      Plutarch\u2019s treatise, _De Sera Numinis Vindicta_. It was a saying of\n      Pythagoras, that \u201cwe become better as we approach the gods.\u201d\n\n  261 Marc. Aur. iii. 5.\n\n  262 Marcus Aurelius.\n\n  263 Seneca, _Pr\u00e6f. Nat. Qu\u00e6st._ iii.\n\n  264 Marc. Aur. x. 25.\n\n  265 Epict. _Ench._ xvii.\n\n  266 Epict. _Ench._ xi.\n\n  267 Seneca, _De Prov._ i.\n\n  268 Ibid. iv.\n\n  269 Marc. Aurel. ii. 2, 3.\n\n  270 The language in which the Stoics sometimes spoke of the inexorable\n      determination of all things by Providence would appear logically\n      inconsistent with free will. In fact, however, the Stoics asserted\n      the latter doctrine in unequivocal language, and in their practical\n      ethics even exaggerated its power. Aulus Gellius (_Noct. Att._ vi.\n      2) has preserved a passage in which Chrysippus exerted his subtlety\n      in reconciling the two things. See, too, Arrian, i. 17.\n\n  271 We have an extremely curious illustration of this mode of thought in\n      a speech of Archytas of Tarentum on the evils of sensuality, which\n      Cicero has preserved. He considers the greatest of these evils to be\n      that the vice predisposes men to unpatriotic acts. \u201cNullam\n      capitaliorem pestem quam corporis voluptatem, hominibus a natura\n      datam.... Hinc patri\u00e6 proditiones, hinc rerumpublicarum eversiones,\n      hinc cum hostibus clandestina colloquia nasci,\u201d etc.\u2014Cicero, _De\n      Senect._ xii.\n\n  272 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Anax._\n\n  273 \u201cCari sunt parentes, cari liberi, propinqui, familiares; sed omnes\n      omnium caritates patria una complexa est; pro qua quis bonus dubitet\n      mortem oppetere si ei sit profuturus?\u201d\u2014_De Offic._ i. 17.\n\n  274 See Seneca, _Consol. ad Helviam_ and _De Otio Sapien._; and\n      Plutarch, _De Exilio_. The first of these works is the basis of one\n      of the most beautiful compositions in the English language,\n      Bolingbroke\u2019s _Reflections on Exile_.\n\n_  275 De Officiis_.\n\n_  276 Epist._ i. 10.\n\n  277 \u201cTota enim philosophorum vita, ut ait idem, commentatio mortis\n      est.\u201d\u2014Cicero, _Tusc._ i. 30, _ad fin_.\n\n_  278 Essay on Death._\n\n  279 Spinoza, _Ethics_, iv. 67.\n\n  280 Camden. Montalembert notices a similar legend as existing in\n      Brittany (_Les Moines d\u2019Occident_, tome ii. p. 287). Procopius (_De\n      Bello Goth._ iv. 20) says that it is impossible for men to live in\n      the west of Britain, and that the district is believed to be\n      inhabited by the souls of the dead.\n\n  281 In his _De Sera Numinis Vindicta_ and his _Consolatio ad Uxorem_.\n\n  282 In the _Ph\u00e6do_, _passim_. See, too, Marc. Aurelius, ii. 12.\n\n  283 See a very striking letter of Epicurus quoted by Diogenes La\u00ebrt. in\n      his life of that philosopher. Except a few sentences, quoted by\n      other writers, these letters were all that remained of the works of\n      Epicurus, till the recent discovery of one of his treatises at\n      Herculaneum.\n\n_  284 Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ i.\n\n_  285 Consol. ad Polyb._ xxvii.\n\n  286 Maury, _Hist. des Religions de la Gr\u00e8ce antique_, tom. i. pp.\n      582-588. M. Ravaisson, in his Memoir on Stoicism (_Acad. des\n      Inscriptions et Belles-lettres_, tom. xxi.) has enlarged on the\n      terrorism of paganism, but has, I think, exaggerated it. Religions\n      which selected games as the natural form of devotion can never have\n      had any very alarming character.\n\n  287 Plutarch, _Ad Apollonium_.\n\n  288 Ibid.\n\n  289 Cic. _Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ i.\n\n  290 Philost. Apoll. of Tyan. v. 4. Hence their passion for suicide,\n      which Silius Italicus commemorates in lines which I think very\n      beautiful:\u2014\n\n      \u201cProdiga gens anim\u00e6 et properare facillima mortem;\n      Namque ubi transcendit florentes viribus annos\n      Impatiens \u00e6vi, spernit novisse senectam\n      Et fati modus in dextra est.\u201d\u2014i. 225-228.\n\n      Valerius Maximus (ii. vi. \u00a7 12) speaks of Celts who celebrated the\n      birth of men with lamentation, and their deaths with joy.\n\n  291 Aulus Gellius, _Noctes_, i. 3.\n\n  292 Tacitus, _Annales_, xv. 62.\n\n  293 Sueton. _Titus_, 10.\n\n  294 Capitolinus, _Antoninus_.\n\n  295 See the beautiful account of his last hours given by Ammianus\n      Marcellinus and reproduced by Gibbon. There are some remarks well\n      worth reading about the death of Julian, and the state of thought\n      that rendered such a death possible, in Dr. Newman\u2019s _Discourses on\n      University Education_, lect. ix.\n\n  296 \u201cLex non p\u0153na mors\u201d was a favourite saying among the ancients. On\n      the other hand, Tertullian very distinctly enunciated the patristic\n      view, \u201cQui autem primordia hominis novimus, audenter determinamus\n      mortem non ex natura secutam hominem sed ex culpa.\u201d\u2014_De Anima_, 52.\n\n  297 Plutarch, _Ad Uxorem_.\n\n  298 St. Augustine, _Epist._ 166.\n\n  299 \u201cAt hoc quidem commune est omnium philosophorum, non eorum modo qui\n      deum nihil habere ipsum negotii dicunt, et nihil exhibere alteri;\n      sed eorum etiam, qui deum semper agere aliquid et moliri volunt,\n      numquam nec irasci deum nec nocere.\u201d\u2014Cic. _De Offic._ iii. 28.\n\n  300 See the refutation of the philosophic notion in Lactantius, _De Ira\n      Dei_.\n\n  301 \u201cRevelation,\u201d as Lessing observes in his essay on this subject, \u201chas\n      made Death the \u2018king of terrors,\u2019 the awful offspring of sin and the\n      dread way to its punishment; though to the imagination of the\n      ancient heathen world, Greek or Etrurian, he was a youthful\n      genius\u2014the twin brother of Sleep, or a lusty boy with a torch held\n      downwards.\u201d\u2014Coleridge\u2019s _Biographia Litteraria_, cap. xxii., note by\n      Sara Coleridge.\n\n  302 \u201cVetat Pythagoras injussu imperatoris, id est Dei, de pr\u00e6sidio et\n      statione vit\u00e6 decedere.\u201d\u2014Cic. _De Senec._ xx. If we believe the very\n      untrustworthy evidence of Diog. La\u00ebrtius (_Pythagoras_) the\n      philosopher himself committed suicide by starvation.\n\n  303 See his _Laws_, lib. ix. In his _Ph\u00e6don_, however, Plato went\n      further, and condemned all suicide. Libanius says (_De Vita Sua_)\n      that the arguments of the _Ph\u00e6don_ prevented him from committing\n      suicide after the death of Julian. On the other hand, Cicero\n      mentions a certain Cleombrotus, who was so fascinated by the proof\n      of the immortality of the soul in the _Ph\u00e6don_ that he forthwith\n      cast himself into the sea. Cato, as is well known, chose this work\n      to study, the night he committed suicide.\n\n  304 Arist. _Ethic._ v.\n\n  305 See a list of these in Lactantius\u2019 _Inst. Div._ iii. 18. Many of\n      these instances rest on very doubtful evidence.\n\n  306 Adam Smith\u2019s _Moral Sentiments_, part vii. \u00a7 2.\n\n  307 \u201cProxima deinde tenent m\u0153sti loca qui sibi lethum\n      Insontes peperere manu, lucemque perosi\n      Projecere animas. Quam vellent \u00e6there in alto\n      Nunc et pauperiem et duros perferre labores.\u201d\n      \u2014_\u00c6neid_, vi. 434-437.\n\n  308 Cicero has censured suicide in his _De Senectute_, in the _Somn.\n      Scipionis_, and in the _Tusculans_. Concerning the death of Cato, he\n      says, that the occasion was such as to constitute a divine call to\n      leave life.\u2014_Tusc._ i.\n\n  309 Apuleius, _De Philos. Plat._ lib. i.\n\n  310 Thus Ovid:\u2014\n\n      \u201cRebus in adversis facile est contemnere vitam,\n      Fortiter ille facit qui miser esse potest.\u201d\n\n      See, too, Martial, xi. 56.\n\n  311 Especially _Ep._ xxiv. Seneca desires that men should not commit\n      suicide with panic or trepidation. He says that those condemned to\n      death should await their execution, for \u201cit is a folly to die\n      through fear of death;\u201d and he recommends men to support old age as\n      long as their faculties remain unimpaired. On this last point,\n      however, his language is somewhat contradictory. There is a good\n      review of the opinions of the ancients in general, and of Seneca in\n      particular, on this subject in Justus Lipsius\u2019 _Manuductio ad\n      Stoicam Philosophiam_, lib. iii. dissert. 22, 23, from which I have\n      borrowed much.\n\n  312 In his _Meditations_, ix. 3, he speaks of the duty of patiently\n      awaiting death. But in iii. 1, x. 8, 22-32, he clearly recognises\n      the right of suicide in some cases, especially to prevent moral\n      degeneracy. It must be remembered that the _Meditations_ of Marcus\n      Aurelius were private notes for his personal guidance, that all the\n      Stoics admitted it to be wrong to commit suicide in cases where the\n      act would be an injury to society, and that this consideration in\n      itself would be sufficient to divert an emperor from the deed.\n      Antoninus, the uncle, predecessor, and model of M. Aurelius, had\n      considered it his duty several times to prevent Hadrian from\n      committing suicide (Spartianus, _Hadrianus_). According to\n      Capitolinus, Marcus Aurelius in his last illness purposely\n      accelerated his death by abstinence. The duty of not hastily, or\n      through cowardice, abandoning a path of duty, and the right of man\n      to quit life when it appears intolerable, are combined very clearly\n      by Epictetus, _Arrian_, i. 9; and the latter is asserted in the\n      strongest manner, i. 24-25.\n\n  313 Porphyry, _De Abst. Carnis_, ii. 47; Plotinus, 1st Enn. ix. Porphyry\n      says (_Life of Plotinus_) that Plotinus dissuaded him from suicide.\n      There is a good epitome of the arguments of this school against\n      suicide in Macrobius, _In Som. Scip._ 1.\n\n  314 Quoted by Seneca, _Ep._ xxvi. Cicero states the Epicurean doctrine\n      to be, \u201cUt si tolerabiles sint dolores, feramus, sin minus \u00e6quo\n      animo e vita, cum ea non placet, tanquam e theatro, exeamus\u201d (_De\n      Finib._ i. 15); and again, \u201cDe Diis immortalibus sine ullo metu vera\n      sentit. Non dubitat, si ita melius sit, de vita migrare.\u201d\u2014Id. i. 19.\n\n  315 This is noticed by St. Jerome.\n\n  316 Corn. Nepos, _Atticus_. He killed himself when an old man, to\n      shorten a hopeless disease.\n\n  317 Petronius, who was called the arbitrator of tastes (\u201celeganti\u00e6\n      arbiter\u201d), was one of the most famous voluptuaries of the reign of\n      Nero. Unlike most of his contemporaries, however, he was endowed\n      with the most exquisite and refined taste; his graceful manners\n      fascinated all about him, and made him in matters of pleasure the\n      ruler of the Court. Appointed Proconsul of Bithynia, and afterwards\n      Consul, he displayed the energies and the abilities of a statesman.\n      A Court intrigue threw him out of favour; and believing that his\n      death was resolved on, he determined to anticipate it by suicide.\n      Calling his friends about him, he opened his veins, shut them, and\n      opened them again; prolonged his lingering death till he had\n      arranged his affairs; discoursed in his last moments, not about the\n      immortality of the soul or the dogmas of philosophers, but about the\n      gay songs and epigrams of the hour; and partaking of a cheerful\n      banquet, died as recklessly as he had lived. (Tacit. _Annal._ xvi.\n      18-19.) It has been a matter of much dispute whether or not this\n      Petronius was the author of the _Satyricon_, one of the most\n      licentious and repulsive works in Latin literature.\n\n  318 Seneca, _De Vita Beata_, xix.\n\n  319 \u201cImperfect\u00e6 vero in homine natur\u00e6 pr\u00e6cipua solatia, ne Deum quidem\n      posse omnia; namque nec sibi potest mortem consciscere si velit,\n      quod homini dedit optimum in tantis vit\u00e6 p\u0153nis.\u201d\u2014_Hist. Nat._ ii. 5.\n\n_  320 Hist. Nat._ ii. 63. We need not be surprised at this writer thus\n      speaking of sudden death, \u201cMortes repentin\u00e6 (hoc est summa vit\u00e6\n      felicitas),\u201d vii. 54.\n\n_  321 Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ lib. 1. Another remarkable example of an epidemic of\n      suicide occurred among the young girls of Miletus. (_Aul. Gell._ xv.\n      10.)\n\n  322 Sir Cornewall Lewis, _On the Credibility of Early Roman History_,\n      vol. ii. p. 430. See, too, on this class of suicides, Cromaziano,\n      _Istorica Critica del Suicidio_ (Venezia, 1788), pp. 81-82. The real\n      name of the author of this book (which is, I think, the best history\n      of suicide) was Buonafede. He was a Celestine monk. The book was\n      first published at Lucca in 1761. It was translated into French in\n      1841.\n\n  323 Senec. _De Provid._ ii.; _Ep._ xxiv.\n\n  324 See some examples of this in Seneca, _Ep._ lxx.\n\n  325 See a long catalogue of suicides arising from this cause, in\n      Cromaziano, _Ist. del Suicidio_, pp. 112-114.\n\n_  326 Consol. ad Marc._ c. xx.\n\n_  327 De Ira_, iii. 15.\n\n_  328 Ep._ lxx.\n\n  329 See Donne\u2019s _Biathanatos_ (London, 1700), pp. 56-57. Gibbon\u2019s\n      _Decline and Fall_, ch. xliv. Blackstone, in his chapter on suicide,\n      quotes the sentence of the Roman lawyers on the subject: \u201cSi quis\n      impatientia doloris aut t\u00e6dio vit\u00e6 aut morbo aut furore aut pudore\n      mori maluit non animadvertatur in eum.\u201d Ulpian expressly asserts\n      that the wills of suicides were recognised by law, and numerous\n      examples of the act, notoriously prepared and publicly and gradually\n      accomplished, prove its legality in Rome. Suetonius, it is true,\n      speaks of Claudius accusing a man for having tried to kill himself\n      (Claud, xvi.), and Xiphilin says (lxix. 8) that Hadrian gave special\n      permission to the philosopher Euphrates to commit suicide, \u201con\n      account of old age and disease;\u201d but in the first case it appears\n      from the context that a reproach and not a legal action was meant,\n      while Euphrates, I suppose, asked permission to show his loyalty to\n      the emperor, and not as a matter of strict necessity. There were,\n      however, some Greek laws condemning suicide, probably on civic\n      grounds. Josephus mentions (_De Bell. Jud._ iii. 8) that in some\n      nations \u201cthe right hand of the suicide was amputated, and that in\n      Judea the suicide was only buried after sunset.\u201d A very strange law,\n      said to have been derived from Greece, is reported to have existed\n      at Marseilles. Poison was kept by the senate of the city, and given\n      to those who could prove that they had sufficient reason to justify\n      their desire for death, and all other suicide was forbidden. The law\n      was intended, it was said, to prevent hasty suicide, and to make\n      deliberate suicide as rapid and painless as possible. (Valer.\n      Maximus, ii. 6, \u00a7 7.) In the Reign of Terror in France, a law was\n      made similar to that of Domitian. (Carlyle\u2019s _Hist. of the French\n      Revolution_, book v. c. ii.)\n\n  330 Compare with this a curious \u201corder of the day,\u201d issued by Napoleon\n      in 1802, with the view of checking the prevalence of suicide among\n      his soldiers. (Lisle, _Du Suicide_, pp. 462-463.)\n\n  331 See Suetonius, _Otho._ c. x.-xi., and the very fine description in\n      Tacitus, _Hist._ lib. ii. c. 47-49. Martial compares the death of\n      Otho to that of Cato:\n\n      \u201cSit Cato, dum vivit, sane vel C\u00e6sare major;\n      Dum moritur, numquid major Othone fuit?\u201d\n      \u2014_Ep._ vi. 32.\n\n  332 Xiphilin, lxviii. 12.\n\n  333 Tacit. _Hist._ ii. 49. Suet. _Otho_, 12. Suetonius says that, in\n      addition to these, many soldiers who were not present killed\n      themselves on hearing the news.\n\n  334 Ibid. _Annal._ xiv. 9.\n\n  335 Plin. _Hist. Nat._ vii. 54. The opposite faction attributed this\n      suicide to the maddening effects of the perfumes burnt on the pile.\n\n  336 Tacit. _Annal._ vi. 26.\n\n  337 Plin. _Ep._ i. 12.\n\n  338 This history is satirically and unfeelingly told by Lucian. See,\n      too, Ammianus Marcellinus, xxix. 1.\n\n  339 Sophocles.\n\n  340 Arrian, i. 24.\n\n  341 Seneca, _Ep._ lviii.\n\n  342 Stob\u00e6us. One of the most deliberate suicides recorded was that of a\n      Greek woman of ninety years old.\u2014Val. Maxim. ii. 6, \u00a7 8.\n\n  343 Plin. _Ep._ iii. 7. He starved himself to death.\n\n_  344 Ep._ i. 22. Some of Pliny\u2019s expressions are remarkable:\u2014\u201cId ego\n      arduum in primis et pr\u00e6cipua laude dignum puto. Nam impetu quodam et\n      instinctu procurrere ad mortem, commune cum multis: deliberare vero\n      et causas ejus expendere, utque suaserit ratio, vit\u00e6 mortisque\n      consilium suscipere vel ponere, ingentis est animi.\u201d In this case\n      the doctors pronounced that recovery was possible, and the suicide\n      was in consequence averted.\n\n  345 Lib. vi. _Ep._ xxiv.\n\n_  346 Ep._ lxxvii. On the former career of Marcellinus, see _Ep._ xxix.\n\n  347 See the very beautiful lines of Statius:\u2014\n\n      \u201cUrbe fuit media nulli concessa potentum\n      Ara Deum, mitis posuit Clementia sedem:\n      Et miseri fecere sacram, sine supplice numquam\n      Illa novo; nulla damnavit vota repulsa.\n      Auditi quicunque rogant, noctesque diesque\n      Ire datum, et solis numen placare querelis.\n      Parca superstitio; non thurea flamma, nec altus\n      Accipitur sanguis, lachrymis altaria sudant ...\n      Nulla autem effigies, nulli commissa metallo\n      Forma De\u00e6, mentes habitare et pectora gaudet.\n      Semper habet trepidos, semper locus horret egenis\n      C\u0153tibus, ignot\u00e6 tantum felicibus ar\u00e6.\u201d\u2014_Thebaid_, xii. 481-496.\n\n      This altar was very old, and was said to have been founded by the\n      descendants of Hercules. Diodorus of Sicily, however, makes a\n      Syracusan say that it was brought from Syracuse (lib. xiii. 22).\n      Marcus Aurelius erected a temple to \u201cBeneficentia\u201d on the Capitol.\n      (Xiphilin, lib. lxxi. 34.)\n\n  348 Herodotus, vi. 21.\n\n  349 See Arrian\u2019s _Epictetus_, i. 9. The very existence of the word\n      \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03b1 shows that the idea was not altogether unknown.\n\n  350 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Pyrrho_. There was a tradition that Pythagoras had\n      himself penetrated to India, and learnt philosophy from the\n      gymnosophists. (Apuleius, _Florid._ lib. ii. c. 15.)\n\n  351 This aspect of the career of Alexander was noticed in a remarkable\n      passage of a treatise ascribed to Plutarch (_De Fort. Alex._).\n      \u201cConceiving he was sent by God to be an umpire between all, and to\n      unite all together, he reduced by arms those whom he could not\n      conquer by persuasion, and formed of a hundred diverse nations one\n      single universal body, mingling, as it were, in one cup of\n      friendship the customs, marriages, and laws of all. He desired that\n      all should regard the whole world as their common country, ... that\n      every good man should be esteemed a Hellene, every evil man a\n      barbarian.\u201d See on this subject the third lecture of Mr. Merivale\n      (whose translation of Plutarch I have borrowed) _On the Conversion\n      of the Roman Empire_.\n\n  352 They were both born about B.C. 250. See Sir C. Lewis, _Credibility\n      of Early Roman History_, vol. i. p. 82.\n\n  353 Aulus Gellius mentions the indignation of Marcus Cato against a\n      consul named Albinus, who had written in Greek a Roman history, and\n      prefaced it by an apology for his faults of style, on the ground\n      that he was writing in a foreign language. (_Noct. Att._ xi. 8.)\n\n  354 See a vivid picture of the Greek influence upon Rome, in Mommsen\u2019s\n      _Hist. of Rome_ (Eng. trans.), vol. iii. pp. 423-426.\n\n  355 Plin. _Hist. Nat._ vii. 31.\n\n  356 See Friedl\u00e6nder, _M\u0153urs romaines du r\u00e8gne d\u2019Auguste \u00e0 la fin des\n      Antonins_ (French trans., 1865), tome i. pp. 6-7.\n\n  357 See the curious catalogue of Greek love terms in vogue (Lucretius,\n      lib. iv. line 1160, &c.). Juvenal, more than a hundred years later,\n      was extremely angry with the Roman ladies for making love in Greek\n      (_Sat._ vi. lines 190-195). Friedl\u00e6nder remarks that there is no\n      special term in Latin for to ask in marriage (tome i. p. 354).\n\n  358 Aul. Gell. _Noct._ xv. 4; Vell. Paterculus, ii. 65. The people were\n      much scandalised at this elevation, and made epigrams about it.\n      There is a curious catalogue of men who at different times rose in\n      Rome from low positions to power and dignity, in Legendre, _Trait\u00e9\n      de l\u2019Opinion_, tome ii. pp. 254-255.\n\n  359 Dion Cassius, xlviii. 32. Plin. _Hist. Nat._ v. 5; vii. 44.\n\n  360 The history of the influence of freedmen is minutely traced by\n      Friedl\u00e6nder, _M\u0153urs romaines du r\u00e8gne d\u2019Auguste \u00e0 la fin des\n      Antonins_, tome i. pp. 58-93. Statius and Martial sang their\n      praises.\n\n  361 See Tacit. _Ann._ vi. 23-25.\n\n  362 On the Roman journeys, see the almost exhaustive dissertation of\n      Friedl\u00e6nder, tome ii.\n\n  363 Joseph. (_Antiq._ xvii. 11, \u00a7 1) says above 8,000 Jews resident in\n      Rome took part in a petition to C\u00e6sar. If these were all adult\n      males, the total number of Jewish residents must have been extremely\n      large.\n\n  364 See the famous fragment of Seneca cited by St. Augustin (_De Civ.\n      Dei_, vi. 11): \u201cUsque eo sceleratissim\u00e6 gentis consuetudo convaluit,\n      ut per omnes jam terras recepta sit: victi victoribus leges\n      dederunt.\u201d There are numerous scattered allusions to the Jews in\n      Horace, Juvenal, and Martial.\n\n  365 The Carthaginian influence was specially conspicuous in early\n      Christian history. Tertullian and Cyprian (both Africans) are justly\n      regarded as the founders of Latin theology. (See Milman\u2019s _Latin\n      Christianity_ (ed. 1867), vol. i. pp. 35-36.)\n\n  366 Milo had emancipated some slaves to prevent them from being tortured\n      as witnesses. (_Cic. Pro Milo._) This was made illegal. The other\n      reasons for enfranchisement are given by Dion. Halicarn. _Antiq._\n      lib. iv.\n\n  367 This subject is fully treated by Wallon, _Hist. de l\u2019Esclavage dans\n      l\u2019Antiquit\u00e9_.\n\n  368 Senec. _De Clemen._ i. 24.\n\n  369 See, on the prominence and the insolence of the freedmen, Tacit.\n      _Annal._ iii. 26-27.\n\n  370 Montesquieu, _D\u00e9cadence des Romains_, ch. xiii.\n\n  371 See the very curious speech attributed to Camillus (Livy, v. 52).\n\n  372 \u201cCaritas generis humani.\u201d\u2014_De Finib._ So, too, he speaks (_De Leg._\n      i. 23) of every good man as \u201ccivis totius mundi.\u201d\n\n  373 He speaks of Rome as \u201ccivitas ex nationum conventu constituta.\u201d\n\n_  374 De Legib._ i. 7.\n\n_  375 De Offic._\n\n  376 Ibid. iii. 6.\n\n_  377 De Offic._ iii. 6.\n\n_  378 De Legib._ i. 15.\n\n  379 \u201cTunc genus humanum positis sibi consulat armis,\n      Inque vicem gens omnis amet.\u201d\n      \u2014_Pharsalia_, vi.\n\n_  380 Ep._ xcv.\n\n_  381 Ep._ xxxi.\n\n_  382 De Vita Beata_, xx.\n\n  383 Arrian, ii. 10.\n\n  384 vi. 44.\n\n  385 \u201cH\u00e6c duri immota Catonis\n      Secta fuit, servare modum, finemque tenere,\n      Naturamque sequi, patri\u00e6que impendere vitam,\n      Nec sibi sed toti genitum se credere mundo.\u201d\n\n      Lucan, _Phars._ ii. 380-383.\n\n  386 There is a passage on this subject in one of the letters of Pliny,\n      which I think extremely remarkable, and to which I can recall no\n      pagan parallel:\u2014\u201cNuper me cujusdam amici languor admonuit, optimos\n      esse nos dum infirmi sumus. Quem enim infirmum aut avaritia aut\n      libido solicitat? Non amoribus servit, non appetit honores ... tunc\n      deos, tunc hominem esse se meminit.\u201d\u2014Plin. _Ep._ vii. 26.\n\n_  387 Ep._ viii. 16. He says: \u201cHominis est enim affici dolore, sentire,\n      resistere tamen, et solatia admittere, non solatiis non egere.\u201d\n\n  388 This characteristic of Stoicism is well noticed in Grant\u2019s\n      _Aristotle_, vol. i. p. 254. The first volume of this work contains\n      an extremely good review of the principles of the Stoics.\n\n  389 Cie. _De Finib._ lib. iv.\n\n  390 Arrian, _Epict._ ii. 14.\n\n  391 Ibid. i. 9.\n\n  392 Ibid. i. 14.\n\n  393 Ibid. i. 16.\n\n  394 Arrian, ii. 8.\n\n  395 Plutarch, _De Profect. in Virt._ This precept was enforced by Bishop\n      Sanderson in one of his sermons. (Southey\u2019s _Commonplace Book_, vol.\n      i. p. 92.)\n\n  396 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Pythagoras_.\n\n  397 Thus Cicero makes Cato say: \u201cPythagoreorumque more, exercend\u00e6\n      memori\u00e6 gratia, quid quoque die dixerim, audiverim, egerim,\n      commemoro vesperi.\u201d\u2014_De Senect._ xi.\n\n  398 Ibid.\n\n_  399 Sermon_, i. 4.\n\n  400 He even gave up, for a time, eating meat, in obedience to the\n      Pythagorean principles. (_Ep._ cviii.) Seneca had two masters of\n      this school, Sextius and Sotion. He was at this time not more than\n      seventeen years old. (See Aubertin, _\u00c9tude critique sur les Rapports\n      suppos\u00e9s entre S\u00e9n\u00e8que et St. Paul_, p. 156.)\n\n  401 See his very beautiful description of the self-examination of\n      Sextius and of himself. (_De Ira_, iii. 36.)\n\n  402 Arrian, ii. 18. Compare the _Manual_ of Epictetus, xxxiv.\n\n  403 \u201cQuod de Romulo \u00e6gre creditum est, omnes pari consensu pr\u00e6sumserunt,\n      Marcum c\u0153lo receptum esse.\u201d\u2014Aur. Vict. _Epit._ xvi. \u201cDeusque etiam\n      nunc habetur.\u201d\u2014Capitolinus.\n\n  404 The first book of his _Meditations_ was written on the borders of\n      the Granua, in Hungary.\n\n  405 i. 14.\n\n  406 See his touching letter to Fronto, who was about to engage in a\n      debate with Herod Atticus.\n\n  407 i. 6-15. The eulogy he passed on his Stoic master Apollonius is\n      worthy of notice. Apollonius furnished him with an example of the\n      combination of extreme firmness and gentleness.\n\n  408 E.g. \u201cBeware of C\u00e6sarising.\u201d (vi. 30.) \u201cBe neither a tragedian nor a\n      courtesan.\u201d (v. 28.) \u201cBe just and temperate and a follower of the\n      gods; but be so with simplicity, for the pride of modesty is the\n      worst of all.\u201d (xii. 27.)\n\n  409 iii. 4.\n\n  410 i. 17.\n\n  411 v. 1.\n\n  412 ix. 29.\n\n  413 viii. 59.\n\n  414 xi. 18.\n\n  415 ix. 11.\n\n  416 viii. 15.\n\n  417 vii. 70.\n\n  418 vii. 63.\n\n  419 vii. 22.\n\n  420 Mr. Maurice, in this respect, compares and contrasts him very\n      happily with Plutarch. \u201cLike Plutarch, the Greek and Roman\n      characters were in Marcus Aurelius remarkably blended; but, unlike\n      Plutarch, the foundation of his mind was Roman. He was a student\n      that he might more effectually carry on the business of an\n      emperor.\u201d\u2014_Philosophy of the First Six Centuries_, p. 32.\n\n  421 vi. 47.\n\n  422 Capitolinus, Aurelius Victor.\n\n  423 M. Suckau, in his admirable _\u00c9tude sur Marc-Aur\u00e8le_, and M. Renan,\n      in a very acute and learned _Examen de quelques faits relatifs \u00e0\n      l\u2019imp\u00e9ratrice Faustine_ (read before the Institut, August 14, 1867),\n      have shown the extreme uncertainty of the stories about the\n      debaucheries of Faustina, which the biographers of Marcus Aurelius\n      have collected. It will be observed that the emperor himself has\n      left an emphatic testimony to her virtue, and to the happiness he\n      derived from her (i. 17); that the earliest extant biographer of\n      Marcus Aurelius was a generation later; and that the infamous\n      character of Commodus naturally predisposed men to imagine that he\n      was not the son of so perfect an emperor.\n\n  424 \u201cQuid me fletis, et non magis de pestilentia et communi morte\n      cogitatis?\u201d Capitolinus, _M. Aurelius_.\n\n  425 Ibid.\n\n  426 Many examples of this are given by Coulanges, _La Cit\u00e9 antique_, pp.\n      177-178.\n\n  427 All this is related by Suetonius, _August_.\n\n  428 Tacit. _Annal._ iv. 36.\n\n  429 See, e.g., the sentiments of the people about Julius C\u00e6sar, Sueton.\n      _J. C._ lxxxviii.\n\n  430 Sueton. _Vesp._ xxiii.\n\n  431 \u201cQualis artifex pereo\u201d were his dying words.\n\n  432 See Sueton. _Calig._ 1.\n\n  433 Sueton. _Calig._ xxii. A statue of Jupiter is said to have burst out\n      laughing just before the death of this emperor.\n\n  434 Seneca, _De Ira_, i. 46; Sueton. _Calig._ xxii.\n\n  435 Lampridius, _Heliogab._\n\n  436 Senec. _De Clemen._ i. 18.\n\n  437 Tacit. _Annal._ iii. 36.\n\n  438 Senec. _De Benefic._ iii. 26.\n\n  439 Tacit. _Annal._ i. 73. Tiberius refused to allow this case to be\n      proceeded with. See, too, Philost. _Apollonius of Tyana_, i. 15.\n\n  440 Suet. _Tiber._ lviii.\n\n  441 \u201cMulier qu\u00e6dam, quod semel exuerat ante statuam Domitiani, damnata\n      et interfecta est.\u201d\u2014Xiphilin, lxvii. 12.\n\n  442 \u201cEos demum, qui nihil pr\u00e6terquam de libertate cogitent, dignos esse,\n      qui Romani fiant.\u201d\u2014Livy, viii. 21.\n\n  443 Valerius Maximus, iv. 3, \u00a7 14.\n\n  444 See the picture of this scene in Tacitus, _Hist._ iii. 83.\n\n  445 Dion. Halicarnass.\n\n  446 \u201cDivina Natura dedit agros; ars humana \u00e6dificavit urbes.\u201d\n\n  447 See a collection of passages from these writers in Wallon, _Hist. de\n      l\u2019Esclavage_, tome ii. pp. 378-379. Pliny, in the first century,\n      noticed (_Hist. Nat._ xviii. 7) that the _latifundia_, or system of\n      large properties, was ruining both Italy and the provinces, and that\n      six landlords whom Nero killed were the possessors of half Roman\n      Africa.\n\n  448 Tacit. _Annal._ xii. 43. The same complaint had been made still\n      earlier by Tiberius, in a letter to the Senate. (_Annal._ iii. 54.)\n\n  449 Augustus, for a time, contemplated abolishing the distributions, but\n      soon gave up the idea. (Suet. _Aug._ xlii.) He noticed that it had\n      the effect of causing the fields to be neglected.\n\n  450 M. Wallon has carefully traced this history. (_Hist. de l\u2019Esclav._\n      tome iii. pp. 294-297.)\n\n  451 Livy, iv. 59-60. Florus, i. 12.\n\n  452 Livy, xxiv. 49.\n\n  453 Sallust, _Bell. Jugurth._ 84-86.\n\n  454 Livy, xxxix. 6.\n\n  455 \u201cPrimus C\u00e6sarum fidem militis etiam pr\u00e6mio pigneratus.\u201d\u2014Suet.\n      _Claud._ x.\n\n  456 See Tacitus, _Annal._ xiii. 35; _Hist._ ii. 69.\n\n  457 M. Sismondi thinks that the influence of Christianity in subduing\n      the spirit of revolt, if not in the army, at least in the people,\n      was very great. He says: \u201cIl est remarquable qu\u2019en cinq ans, sept\n      pr\u00e9tendans au tr\u00f4ne, tous bien sup\u00e9rieurs \u00e0 Honorius en courage, en\n      talens et en vertus, furent successivement envoy\u00e9s captifs \u00e0 Ravenne\n      ou punis de mort, que le peuple applaudit toujours \u00e0 ces jugemens et\n      ne se s\u00e9para point de l\u2019autorit\u00e9 l\u00e9gitime, tant la doctrine du droit\n      divin des rois que les \u00e9v\u00eaques avoient commenc\u00e9 \u00e0 pr\u00eacher sous\n      Th\u00e9odose avoit fait de progr\u00e8s, et tant le monde romain sembloit\n      determin\u00e9 \u00e0 p\u00e9rir avec un monarque imb\u00e9cile plut\u00f4t que tent\u00e9 de se\n      donner un sauveur.\u201d\u2014_Hist. de la Chute de l\u2019Empire romain_, tome i.\n      p. 221.\n\n  458 See Gibbon, ch. v.; Merivale\u2019s _Hist. of Rome_, ch. lxvii. It was\n      thought that troops thus selected would be less likely to revolt.\n      Constantine abolished the Pr\u00e6torians.\n\n  459 The gladiatorial shows are treated incidentally by most Roman\n      historians, but the three works from which I have derived most\n      assistance in this part of my subject are the _Saturnalia_ of Justus\n      Lipsius, Magnin, _Origines du Th\u00e9\u00e2tre_ (an extremely learned and\n      interesting book, which was unhappily never completed), and\n      Friedl\u00e6nder\u2019s _Roman Manners from Augustus to the Antonines_ (the\n      second volume of the French translation). M. Wallon has also\n      compressed into a few pages (_Hist. de l\u2019Esclavage_, tome ii. pp.\n      129-139) much information on the subject.\n\n  460 Hence the old name of _bustuarii_ (from _bustum_, a funeral pile)\n      given to gladiators (Nieupoort, _De Ritibus Romanorum_, p. 514).\n      According to Pliny (_Hist. Nat._ xxx. 3), \u201cregular human sacrifices\n      were only abolished in Rome by a decree of the senate, B.C. 97,\u201d and\n      there are some instances of them at a still later period. Much\n      information about them is collected by Sir C. Lewis, _Credibility of\n      Roman History_, vol. ii. p. 430; Merivale, _Conversion of the Roman\n      Empire_, pp. 230-233; Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de l\u2019Opinion_, vol. i. pp.\n      229-231. Porphyry, in his _De Abstinentia Carnis_, devoted\n      considerable research to this matter. Games were habitually\n      celebrated by wealthy private individuals, during the early part of\n      the empire, at the funerals of their relatives, but their mortuary\n      character gradually ceased, and after Marcus Aurelius they had\n      become mere public spectacles, and were rarely celebrated at Rome by\n      private men. (See Wallon, _Hist. de l\u2019Esclav._ tome ii. pp.\n      135-136.) The games had then really passed into their purely secular\n      stage, though they were still nominally dedicated to Mars and Diana,\n      and though an altar of Jupiter Latiaris stood in the centre of the\n      arena. (Nieupoort, p. 365.)\n\n  461 Cicero, _Tusc._ lib. ii.\n\n  462 Capitolinus, _Maximus et Balbinus_. Capitolinus says this is the\n      most probable origin of the custom, though others regarded it as a\n      sacrifice to appease Nemesis by an offering of blood.\n\n  463 Much curious information on this subject may be found in\n      Friedl\u00e6nder, _M\u0153urs romaines_, liv. vi. ch. i. Very few Roman\n      emperors ventured to disregard or to repress these outcries, and\n      they led to the fall of several of the most powerful ministers of\n      the empire. On the whole these games represent the strangest and\n      most ghastly form political liberty has ever assumed. On the other\n      hand, the people readily bartered all genuine freedom for abundant\n      games.\n\n  464 Valer. Maximus, ii. 4, \u00a7 7.\n\n  465 On the gladiators at banquets, see J. Lipsius, _Saturnalia_, lib. i.\n      c. vi., Magnin; _Origines du Th\u00e9\u00e2tre_, pp. 380-385. This was\n      originally an Etruscan custom, and it was also very common at Capua.\n      As Silius Italicus says:\u2014\n\n      \u201cExhilarare viris convivia c\u00e6de Mos olim, et miscere epulis\n      spectacula dira.\u201d\n\n      Verus, the colleague of Marcus Aurelius, was especially addicted to\n      this kind of entertainment. (Capitolinus, _Verus_.) See, too,\n      Athen\u00e6us iv. 40, 41.\n\n  466 Senec. _De Brevit. Vit._ c. xiii.\n\n  467 Sueton. _J. C\u00e6sar_, xxvi. Pliny (_Ep._ vi. 34) commends a friend for\n      having given a show in memory of his departed wife.\n\n  468 Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ xxxiii. 16.\n\n  469 Sueton. _C\u00e6sar_, x.; Dion Cassius, xliii. 24.\n\n  470 Sueton. _Aug._ xxix. The history of the amphitheatres is given very\n      minutely by Friedl\u00e6nder, who, like nearly all other antiquaries,\n      believes this to have been the first of stone. Pliny mentions the\n      existence, at an earlier period, of two connected wooden theatres,\n      which swung round on hinges and formed an amphitheatre. (_Hist.\n      Nat._ xxxvi. 24.)\n\n  471 Dion Cassius, liv. 2. It appears, however, from an inscription, that\n      10,000 gladiators fought in the reign and by the command of\n      Augustus. Wallon_, Hist. de l\u2019Esclavage_, tome ii. p. 133.\n\n  472 Sueton. _Tiber._ xxxiv. Nero made another slight restriction (Tacit.\n      _Annal._ xiii. 31), which appears to have been little observed.\n\n  473 Martial notices (_Ep._ iii. 59) and ridicules a spectacle given by a\n      shoemaker at Bologna, and by a fuller at Modena.\n\n  474 Epictetus, _Enchir._ xxxiii. \u00a7 2.\n\n  475 Arrian, iii. 15.\n\n  476 See these points minutely proved in Friedl\u00e6nder.\n\n  477 Suet. _Aug._ xliv. This was noticed before by Cicero. The Christian\n      poet Prudentius dwelt on this aspect of the games in some forcible\n      lines:\u2014\n\n      \u201cVirgo modesta jubet converso pollice rumpi\n      Ne lateat pars ulla anim\u00e6 vitalibus imis\n      Altius impresso dum palpitat ense secutor.\u201d\n\n  478 Sueton. _Tiberius_, xl. Tacitus, who gives a graphic description of\n      the disaster (_Annal._ iv. 62-63), says 50,000 persons were killed\n      or wounded.\n\n  479 Tacit. _Annal._ xiii. 49.\n\n  480 Joseph. _Bell. Jud._ vi. 9.\n\n  481 See the very curious picture which Livy has given (xli. 20) of the\n      growth of the fascination.\n\n  482 Joseph. _Antiq. Jud._ xix. 7.\n\n  483 Lucian, _Demonax_.\n\n  484 Philost. _Apoll._ iv. 22.\n\n  485 Friedl\u00e6nder, tome ii. pp. 95-96. There are, however, several extant\n      Greek inscriptions relating to gladiators, and proving the existence\n      of the shows in Greece. Pompeii, which was a Greek colony, had a\n      vast amphitheatre, which we may still admire; and, under Nero, games\n      were prohibited at Pompeii for ten years, in consequence of a riot\n      that broke out during a gladiatorial show. (Tacit. _Annal._ xiv.\n      17.) After the defeat of Perseus, Paulus Emilius celebrated a show\n      in Macedonia. (Livy, xli. 20.)\n\n  486 These are fully discussed by Magnin and Friedl\u00e6nder. There is a very\n      beautiful description of a ballet, representing the \u201cJudgment of\n      Paris,\u201d in Apuleius, _Metamorph._ x.\n\n  487 Pacuvius and Accius were the founders of Roman tragedy. The\n      abridger, Velleius Paterculus, who is the only Roman historian who\n      pays any attention to literary history, boasts that the latter might\n      rank honourably with the best Greek tragedians. He adds, \u201cut in\n      illis [the Greeks] lim\u00e6, in hoc p\u0153ne plus videatur fuisse\n      sanguinis.\u201d\u2014_Hist. Rom._ ii. 9.\n\n  488 Thus, e.g., Hobbes: \u201cAlien\u00e6 calamitatis contemptus nominatur\n      crudelitas, proceditque a propri\u00e6 securitatis opinione. Nam ut\n      aliquis sibi placeat in malis alienis sine alio fine, videtur mihi\n      impossibile.\u201d\u2014_Leviathan_, pars i. c. vi.\n\n  489 Sueton. _Claudius_, xxxiv.\n\n  490 \u201cEt verso pollice vulgi\n      Quemlibet occidunt populariter.\u201d\u2014Juvenal, _Sat._ iii. 36-37.\n\n  491 Besides the many incidental notices scattered through the Roman\n      historians, and through the writings of Seneca, Plutarch, Juvenal,\n      and Pliny, we have a curious little book, _De Spectaculis_, by\n      Martial\u2014a book which is not more horrible from the atrocities it\n      recounts than from the perfect absence of all feeling of repulsion\n      or compassion it everywhere displays.\n\n  492 These are but a few of the many examples given by Magnin, who has\n      collected a vast array of authorities on the subject. (_Origines du\n      Th\u00e9\u00e2tre_, pp. 445-453.) M. Mongez has devoted an interesting memoir\n      to \u201cLes animaux promen\u00e9s ou tu\u00e9s dans le cirque.\u201d (_M\u00e9m. de l\u2019Acad.\n      des Inscrip. et Belles-lettres_, tome x.) See, too, Friedl\u00e6nder.\n      Pliny rarely gives an account of any wild animal without\n      accompanying it by statistics about its appearances in the arena.\n      The first instance of a wild beast hunt in the amphitheatre is said\n      to be that recorded by Livy (xxxix. 22), which took place about 80\n      B.C.\n\n  493 Capitolinus, _Gordiani_.\n\n  494 Vopiscus, _Aurelian_.\n\n  495 Xiphilin, lxviii. 15.\n\n  496 Tacit. _Annal._ xv. 44.\n\n  497 Xiphilin, lxvii. 8; Statius, _Sylv._ i. 6.\n\n  498 During the Republic, a rich man ordered in his will that some women\n      he had purchased for the purpose should fight in the funeral games\n      to his memory, but the people annulled the clause. (Athen\u00e6eus, iv.\n      39.) Under Nero and Domitian, female gladiators seem to have been\n      not uncommon. See Statius, _Sylv._ i. 6; Sueton. _Domitian_, iv.;\n      Xiphilin, lxvii. 8. Juvenal describes the enthusiasm with which\n      Roman ladies practised with the gladiatorial weapons (_Sat._ vi.\n      248, &c.), and Martial (_De Spectac._ vi.) mentions the combats of\n      women with wild beasts. One, he says, killed a lion. A combat of\n      female gladiators, under Severus, created some tumult, and it was\n      decreed that they should no longer be permitted. (Xiphilin, lxxv.\n      16.) See Magnin, pp. 434-435.\n\n  499 Martial, _De Spectac._ vii.\n\n  500 Ibid. _Ep._ viii. 30.\n\n  501 Tertullian, _Ad Nation._ i. 10. One of the most ghastly features of\n      the games was the comic aspect they sometimes assumed. This was the\n      case in the combats of dwarfs. There were also combats by\n      blind-folded men. Petronius (_Satyricon_, c. xlv.) has given us a\n      horrible description of the maimed and feeble men who were sometimes\n      compelled to fight. People afflicted with epilepsy were accustomed\n      to drink the blood of the wounded gladiators, which they believed to\n      be a sovereign remedy. (Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ xxviii. 2; Tertul.\n      _Apol._ ix.)\n\n  502 \u201cNec unquam sine humano cruore c\u0153nabat\u201d\u2014Lactan. _De Mort. Persec._\n      Much the same thing is told of the Christian emperor Justinian II.,\n      who lived at the end of the seventh century. (Sismondi, _Hist. de la\n      Chute de l\u2019Empire Romain_, tome ii. p. 85.)\n\n  503 Winckelmann says the statue called \u201cThe Dying Gladiator\u201d does not\n      represent a gladiator. At a later period, however, statues of\n      gladiators were not uncommon, and Pliny notices (_Hist. Nat._ xxxv.\n      33) paintings of them. A fine specimen of mosaic portraits of\n      gladiators is now in the Lateran Museum.\n\n  504 Plutarch\u2019s _Life of C\u00e6sar_.\n\n  505 Dion Cassius, li. 7.\n\n  506 Faustina, the wife of Marcus Aurelius, was especially accused of\n      this weakness. (Capitolinus, _Marcus Aurelius_.)\n\n  507 Seneca, _De Provident._ iv.\n\n  508 Arrian\u2019s _Epictetus_, i. 29.\n\n  509 Seneca, _De Provident._ iii.\n\n  510 Aulus Gellius, xii. 5.\n\n  511 Cicero, _Tusc._ lib. ii.\n\n  512 Some Equites fought under Julius C\u00e6sar, and a senator named Fulvius\n      Setinus wished to fight, but C\u00e6sar prevented him. (Suet. _C\u00e6sar_,\n      xxxix.; Dion Cassius, xliii. 23.) Nero, according to Suetonius,\n      compelled men of the highest rank to fight. Laws prohibiting\n      patricians from fighting were several times made and violated.\n      (Friedl\u00e6nder, pp. 39-41.) Commodus is said to have been himself\n      passionately fond of fighting as a gladiator. Much, however, of what\n      Lampridius relates on this point is perfectly incredible. On the\n      other hand, the profession of the gladiator was constantly spoken of\n      as infamous; but this oscillation between extreme admiration and\n      contempt will surprise no one who has noticed the tone continually\n      adopted about prize-fighters in England, and about the members of\n      some other professions on the Continent. Juvenal dwells (_Sat._\n      viii. 197-210) with great indignation on an instance of a patrician\n      fighting.\n\n  513 \u201cQuis mediocris gladiator ingemuit, quis vultum mutavit\n      unquam?\u201d\u2014Cic. _Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ lib. ii.\n\n  514 E.g. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ iii. There is a well-known passage of this\n      kind in Horace, _Ars Poet._ 412-415. The comparison of the good man\n      to an athlete or gladiator, which St. Paul employed, occurs also in\n      Seneca and Epictetus, from which some have inferred that they must\n      have known the writings of the Apostle. M. Denis, however, has shown\n      (_Id\u00e9es morales dans l\u2019Antiquit\u00e9_, tome ii. p. 240) that the same\n      comparison had been used, before the rise of Christianity, by Plato,\n      \u00c6schines, and Cicero.\n\n_  515 Confess._ vi. 8.\n\n  516 \u201c[Servi] etsi per fortunam in omnia obnoxii, tamen quasi secundum\n      hominum genus sunt.\u201d\u2014Florus, _Hist._ iii. 20.\n\n  517 Macrinus, however, punished fugitive slaves by compelling them to\n      fight as gladiators. (Capitolinus, _Macrinus_.)\n\n  518 Tacit. _Annal._ xii. 56. According to Friedl\u00e6nder, however, there\n      were two classes of criminals. One class were condemned only to\n      fight, and pardoned if they conquered; the others were condemned to\n      fight till death, and this was considered an aggravation of capital\n      punishment.\n\n  519 \u201cAd conciliandum plebis favorem effusa largitio, quum spectaculis\n      indulget, supplicia quondam hostium artem facit.\u201d\u2014Florus, iii. 12.\n\n_  520 Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._ ii. 17.\n\n  521 See his magnificent letter on the subject. (_Ep._ vii.)\n\n  522 In his two treatises _De Esu Carnium_.\n\n  523 Pliny. _Ep._ iv. 22.\n\n  524 Xiphilin, lxxi. 29. Capitolinus, _M. Aurelius_. The emperor also\n      once carried off the gladiators to a war with his army, much to the\n      indignation of the people. (Capit.) He has himself noticed the\n      extreme weariness he felt at the public amusements he was obliged to\n      attend. (vii. 3.)\n\n  525 Sueton. _Titus_, viii.\n\n  526 \u201cVisum est spectaculum inde non enerve nec fluxum, nec quod animos\n      virorum molliret et frangeret, sed quod ad pulchra vulnera\n      contemptumque mortis accenderet.\u201d\u2014Pliny, _Paneg._ xxxiii.\n\n  527 \u201cPr\u00e6terea tanto consensu rogabaris, ut negare non constans sed durum\n      videretur.\u201d\u2014Plin. _Epist._ vi. 34.\n\n  528 Symmach. _Epist._ ii. 46.\n\n  529 Sueton. _Domitian_, iii. It is very curious that the same emperor,\n      about the same time (the beginning of his reign), had such a horror\n      of bloodshed that he resolved to prohibit the sacrifice of oxen.\n      (Suet. _Dom._ ix.)\n\n  530 \u201cPendant qu\u2019il restait au logis, il n\u2019\u00e9tait incommode \u00e0 personne; il\n      y passait la meilleure partie de son temps tranquillement dans sa\n      chambre.... Il se divertissait aussi quelquefois \u00e0 fumer une pipe de\n      tabac; ou bien lorsqu\u2019il voulait se rel\u00e2cher l\u2019esprit un peu plus\n      longtemps, il cherchait des araign\u00e9es qu\u2019il faisait battre ensemble,\n      ou des mouches qu\u2019il jetait dans la toile d\u2019araign\u00e9e, et regardait\n      ensuite cette bataille avec tant de plaisir qu\u2019il \u00e9clatait\n      quelquefois de rire.\u201d\u2014Colerus, _Vie de Spinoza_.\n\n  531 This is noticed by George Duval in a curious passage of his\n      _Souvenirs de la Terreur_, quoted by Lord Lytton in a note to his\n      _Zanoni_.\n\n_  532 Essay on Goodness._\n\n  533 This contrast has been noticed by Archbishop Whately in a lecture on\n      Egypt. See, too, Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de l\u2019Opinion_, tome ii. p. 374.\n\n  534 Tacit. _Annal._ xiv. 45.\n\n  535 Senec. _De Clemen._ i. 14.\n\n  536 Val. Max. ii. 9. This writer speaks of \u201cthe eyes of a mistress\n      delighting in human blood\u201d with as much horror as if the\n      gladiatorial games were unknown. Livy gives a rather different\n      version of this story.\n\n  537 Tacit. _Annal._ i. 76.\n\n  538 Sueton. _Calig._ xi.\n\n  539 Spartian. _Caracalla._ Tertullian mentions that his nurse was a\n      Christian.\n\n  540 Capitolinus, _Marcus Aurelius_. Capitolinus, who wrote under\n      Diocletian, says that in his time the custom of spreading a net\n      under the rope-dancer still continued. I do not know when it ceased\n      at Rome, but St. Chrysostom mentions that in his time it had been\n      abolished in the East.\u2014Jortin\u2019s _Remarks on Ecclesiastical History_,\n      ii. 71 (ed. 1846).\n\n  541 Tacit. _Ann._ iii. 55.\n\n  542 Champagny, _Les Antonins_, tome ii. pp. 179-200.\n\n  543 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9.\u2014Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Zeno_.\n\n  544 Thus Tigellinus spoke of \u201cStoicorum arrogantia sectaque qu\u00e6 turbidos\n      et negotiorum appetentes faciat.\u201d\u2014Tacit. _Ann._ xiv. 57. The\n      accusation does not appear to have been quite untrue, for Vespasian,\n      who was a very moderate emperor, thought it necessary to banish\n      nearly all the philosophers from Rome on account of their\n      factiousness. Sometimes the Stoics showed their independence by a\n      rather gratuitous insolence. Dion Cassius relates that, when Nero\n      was thinking of writing a poem in 400 books, he asked the advice of\n      the Stoic Cornutus, who said, that no one would read so long a work.\n      \u201cBut,\u201d answered Nero, \u201cyour favourite Chrysippus wrote still more\n      numerous books.\u201d \u201cTrue,\u201d rejoined Cornutus, \u201cbut then they were of\n      use to humanity.\u201d On the other hand, Seneca is justly accused of\n      condescending too much to the vices of Nero in his efforts to\n      mitigate their effects.\n\n  545 The influence of Stoicism on Roman law has been often examined. See,\n      especially, Degerando, _Hist. de la Philosophie_ (2nd ed.), tome\n      iii. pp. 202-204; Laferri\u00e8re, _De l\u2019Influence du Sto\u00efcisme sur les\n      Jurisconsultes romains_; Denis, _Th\u00e9ories et Id\u00e9es morales dans\n      l\u2019Antiquit\u00e9_, tome ii. pp. 187-217; Troplong, _Influence du\n      Christianisme sur le Droit civil des Romains_; Merivale, _Conversion\n      of the Roman Empire_, lec. iv.; and the great work of Gravina, _De\n      Ortu et Progressu Juris civilis_.\n\n  546 Cic. _De Legib._ ii. 4, 23.\n\n  547 There were two rival schools, that of Labeo and that of Capito. The\n      first was remarkable for its strict adherence to the letter of the\n      law\u2014the second for the latitude of interpretation it admitted.\n\n_  548 Dig._ lib. i. tit. 17-32.\n\n  549 Ibid. i. tit. 1-3.\n\n  550 Ibid. i. tit. 1-4.\n\n_  551 Dig._ lib. i. tit. 4-5.\n\n  552 Laferri\u00e8re, p. 32. Wallon, _Hist. de l\u2019Esclavage dans l\u2019Antiquit\u00e9_,\n      tome iii. pp. 71-80. M. Wallon gives many curious instances of legal\n      decisions on this point.\n\n  553 To prove that this is the correct conception of law was the main\n      object of Cicero\u2019s treatise _De Legibus_. Ulpian defined\n      jurisprudence as \u201cdivinarum atque humanarum rerum notitia, justi\n      atque injusti scientia.\u201d\u2014_Dig._ lib. i. tit. 1-10. So Paul \u201cId quod\n      semper \u00e6quum ad bonum est jus dicitur ut est jus naturale.\u201d\u2014_Dig._\n      lib. i. tit. 1-11. And Gaius, \u201cQuod vero naturalis ratio inter omnes\n      homines constituit ... vocatur jus gentium.\u201d\u2014_Dig._ lib. i. tit.\n      1-9. The Stoics had defined true wisdom as \u201crerum divinarum atque\n      humanarum scientia.\u201d\u2014Cic. _De Offic._ i. 43.\n\n  554 Cicero compares the phraseology of the Stoics with that of the\n      Peripatetics, maintaining that the precision of the former is well\n      adapted to legal discussions, and the redundancy of the latter to\n      oratory. \u201cOmnes fere Stoici prudentissimi in disserendo sint et id\n      arte faciant, sintque architecti pene verborum; iidem traducti a\n      disputando ad dicendum, inopes reperiantur: unum excipio Catonem....\n      Peripateticorum institutis commodius fingeretur oratio ... nam ut\n      Stoicorum astrictior est oratio, aliquantoque contractior quam aures\n      populi requirunt: sic illorum liberior et latior quam patitur\n      consuetudo judiciorum et fori.\u201d\u2014_De Claris Oratoribus._ A very\n      judicious historian of philosophy observes: \u201cEn g\u00e9n\u00e9ral \u00e0 Rome le\n      petit nombre d\u2019hommes livr\u00e9s \u00e0 la m\u00e9ditation et \u00e0 l\u2019enthousiasme\n      pr\u00e9f\u00e9r\u00e8rent Pythagore et Platon; les hommes du monde et ceux qui\n      cultivaient les sciences naturelles s\u2019attach\u00e8rent \u00e0 \u00c9picure; les\n      orateurs et les hommes d\u2019\u00c9tat \u00e0 la nouvelle Acad\u00e9mie; les\n      juris-consultes au Portique.\u201d\u2014Degerando, _Hist. de la Philos._ tome\n      iii. p. 196.\n\n  555 See a very remarkable passage in Aulus Gellius, _Noct._ ii. 15.\n\n  556 \u201cFere enim nulli alii sunt homines qui talem in filios suos habeant\n      potestatem qualem nos habemus.\u201d\u2014Gaius.\n\n  557 A full statement of these laws is given by Dion. Halicarn. ii. 4. It\n      was provided that if a father sold his son and if the son was\n      afterwards enfranchised by the purchaser, he became again the slave\n      of his father, who might sell him a second, and, if manumission\n      again ensued, a third time. It was only on the third sale that he\n      passed for ever out of the parental control. A more merciful law,\n      attributed to Numa, provided that when the son married (if that\n      marriage was with the consent of the father), the father lost the\n      power of selling him. In no other way, however, was his authority\n      even then abridged.\n\n  558 Velleius Paterculus, ii. 67. A great increase of parricide was\n      noticed during the Empire (Senec. _De Clem._ i. 23). At first, it is\n      said, there was no law against parricide, for the crime was believed\n      to be too atrocious to be possible.\n\n  559 Numerous instances of these executions are collected by Livy, Val.\n      Maximus, &c.; their history is fully given by Cornelius van\n      Bynkershoek, \u201cDe Jure occidendi, vendendi, et exponendi liberos apud\n      veteres Romanos,\u201d in his works (Cologne, 1761).\n\n  560 This proceeding of Hadrian, which is related by the lawyer Marcian,\n      is doubly remarkable, because the father had surprised his son in\n      adultery with his stepmother. Now a Roman had originally not only\n      absolute authority over the life of his son, but also the right of\n      killing any one whom he found committing adultery with his wife. Yet\n      Marcian praises the severity of Hadrian, \u201cNam patria potestas in\n      pietate debet, non atrocitate, consistere.\u201d\u2014_Digest._ lib. xlviii.\n      tit. 9, \u00a7 5.\n\n  561 Valer. Max. vii. 7.\n\n  562 See, on all this subject, Gibbon, _Decline and Fall_, ch. xliv.;\n      Troplong, _Influence du Christianisme sur le Droit_, ch. ix.; Denis,\n      _Hist. des Id\u00e9es morales_, tome ii. pp. 107-120; Laferri\u00e8re,\n      _Influence du Sto\u00efcisme sur les Jurisconsultes_, pp. 37-44.\n\n  563 \u00c6lian, _Hist. Var._ vi. 7.\n\n  564 Livy, ii. 36; Cicero, _De Divin._ ii. 26.\n\n  565 Cicero, _De Legibus_, ii. 8-12. Cato, however, maintained that\n      slaves might on those days be employed on work which did not require\n      oxen.\u2014Wallon, _Hist. de l\u2019Esclavage_, tome ii. p. 215.\n\n  566 See the _Saturnalia_ of Macrobius.\n\n  567 See his _Life_ by Plutarch, and his book on agriculture.\n\n  568 The number of the Roman slaves has been a matter of much\n      controversy. M. Dureau de la Malle (_Econ. politique des Romains_)\n      has restricted it more than any other writer. Gibbon (_Decline and\n      Fall_, chap. ii.) has collected many statistics on the subject, but\n      the fullest examination is in M. Wallon\u2019s admirable _Hist. de\n      l\u2019Esclavage_. On the contrast between the character of the slaves of\n      the Republic and those of the Empire, see _Tac. Ann._ xiv. 44.\n\n  569 Tacit. _Annal._ xiii. 32; xiv. 42-45. Wallon, _Hist. de l\u2019Esclav._\n      ii. 293. I have already noticed the indignant rising of the people\n      caused by the proposal to execute the 400 slaves of the murdered\n      Pedanius. Their interposition was, however (as Tacitus informs us),\n      unavailing, and the slaves, guarded against rescue by a strong band\n      of soldiers, were executed. It was proposed to banish the freedmen\n      who were in the house, but Nero interposed and prevented it. Pliny\n      notices (_Ep._ viii. 14) the banishment of the freedmen of a\n      murdered man.\n\n  570 See all this fully illustrated in Wallon. The plays of Plautus and\n      the Roman writers on agriculture contain numerous allusions to the\n      condition of slaves.\n\n  571 Wallon, tome ii. pp. 209-210, 357. There were no laws till the time\n      of the Christian emperors against separating the families of slaves,\n      but it was a maxim of the jurisconsults that in forced sales they\n      should not be separated. (Wallon, tome iii. pp. 55-56.)\n\n  572 Ibid. tome ii. pp. 211-213.\n\n  573 Plin. _Epist._ viii. 16. It was customary to allow the public or\n      State slaves to dispose of half their goods by will. (Wallon, tome\n      iii. p. 59.)\n\n  574 Wallon, tome ii. p. 419. This appears from an allusion of Cicero,\n      _Philip._ viii. 11.\n\n  575 Senec. _De Clem._ i. 18.\n\n  576 Ibid. _Ep._ xlvii.\n\n  577 Pliny, _Ep._ viii. 16.\n\n  578 Spartianus, _Hadrianus_.\n\n  579 Compare Wallon, tome ii. p. 186; tome iii. pp. 65-66. Slaves were\n      only to be called as witnesses in cases of incest, adultery, murder,\n      and high treason, and where it was impossible to establish the crime\n      without their evidence. Hadrian considered that the reality of the\n      crime must have already acquired a strong probability, and the\n      jurisconsult Paul laid down that at least two free witnesses should\n      be heard before slaves were submitted to torture, and that the offer\n      of an accused person to have his slaves tortured that they might\n      attest his innocence should not be accepted.\n\n  580 Numerous and very noble instances of slave fidelity are given by\n      Seneca, _De Benefic._ iii. 19-27; Val. Max. vi. 8; and in Appian\u2019s\n      _History of the Civil Wars_. See, too, Tacit. _Hist._ i. 3.\n\n  581 Aristotle had, it is true, declared slavery to be part of the law of\n      nature\u2014an opinion which, he said, was rejected by some of his\n      contemporaries; but he advocated humanity to slaves quite as\n      emphatically as the other philosophers (_Economics_, i. 5). Epicurus\n      was conspicuous even among Greek philosophers for his kindness to\n      slaves, and he associated some of his own with his philosophical\n      labours. (Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Epicurus_.)\n\n_  582 De Benef._ iii. 18-28; _De Vita Beata_, xxiv.; _De Clem._ i. 18,\n      and especially _Ep._ xlvii. Epictetus, as might be expected from his\n      history, frequently recurs to the duty. Plutarch writes very\n      beautifully upon it in his treatise _De Cohibenda Ira_.\n\n  583 Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Zeno_.\n\n  584 Bodin thinks it was promulgated by Nero, and he has been followed by\n      Troplong and Mr. Merivale. Champagny (_Les Antonins_, tome ii. p.\n      115) thinks that no law after Tiberius was called _lex_.\n\n  585 Sueton. _Claud._ xxv.; Dion Cass. lx. 29.\n\n  586 See Dumas, _Secours publics chez les Anciens_ (Paris, 1813), pp.\n      125-130.\n\n  587 Senec. _De Clem._ i. 18.\n\n  588 Senec. _De Benef._ iii. 22.\n\n  589 Spartian. _Hadrianus._ Hadrian exiled a Roman lady for five years\n      for treating her slaves with atrocious cruelty. (_Digest._ lib. i.\n      tit. 6, \u00a7 2.)\n\n  590 See these laws fully examined by Wallon, tome iii. pp. 51-92, and\n      also Laferri\u00e8re, _Sur l\u2019Influence du Sto\u00efcisme sur le Droit_. The\n      jurisconsults gave a very wide scope to their definitions of\n      cruelty. A master who degraded a literary slave, or a slave\n      musician, to some coarse manual employment, such as a porter, was\n      decided to have ill-treated him. (Wallon, tome iii. p. 62.)\n\n  591 Thus, e.g., Livia called in the Stoic Areus to console her after the\n      death of Drusus (Senec. _Ad Marc._). Many of the letters of Seneca\n      and Plutarch are written to console the suffering. Cato, Thrasea,\n      and many others appear to have fortified their last hours by\n      conversation with philosophers. The whole of this aspect of Stoicism\n      has been admirably treated by M. Martha (_Les Moralistes de l\u2019Empire\n      Romain_).\n\n  592 We have a pleasing picture of the affection philosophers and their\n      disciples sometimes bore to one another in the lines of Persius\n      (_Sat._ v.) to his master Cornutus.\n\n  593 Grant\u2019s _Aristotle_, vol. i. pp. 277-278.\n\n  594 Champagny, _Les Antonins_, tome i. p. 405.\n\n  595 Arrian, iii. 22. Julian has also painted the character of the true\n      Cynic, and contrasted it with that of the impostors who assumed the\n      garb. See Neander\u2019s _Life of Julian_ (London, 1850), p. 94.\n\n  596 Seneca the rhetorician (father of the philosopher) collected many of\n      the sayings of the rhetoricians of his time. At a later period,\n      Philostratus wrote the lives of eminent rhetoricians, Quintilian\n      discussed their rules of oratory, and Aulus Gellius painted the\n      whole society in which they moved. On their injurious influence upon\n      eloquence, see Petronius, _Satyricon_, i. 2. Much curious\n      information about the rhetoricians is collected in Martha,\n      _Moralistes de l\u2019Empire Romain_, and in Nisard, _Etudes sur les\n      Po\u00ebtes Latins de la D\u00e8cadence_, art. Juvenal.\n\n  597 \u201cCependant ces orateurs n\u2019\u00e9taient jamais plus admir\u00e9s que lorsqu\u2019ils\n      avaient le bonheur de trouver un sujet o\u00f9 la louange fut un tour de\n      force.... Lucien a fait l\u2019\u00e9loge de la mouche; Fronton de la\n      poussi\u00e8re, de la fum\u00e9e, de la n\u00e9gligence; Dion Chrysostome de la\n      chevelure, du perroquet, etc. Au cinqui\u00e8me si\u00e8cle, Syn\u00e9sius, qui fut\n      un grand \u00e9v\u00eaque, fera le pan\u00e9gyrique de la calvitie, long ouvrage o\u00f9\n      toutes les sciences sont mises \u00e0 contribution pour apprendre aux\n      hommes ce qu\u2019il y a non-seulement de bonheur mais aussi de m\u00e9rite \u00e0\n      \u00eatre chauve.\u201d\u2014Martha, _Moralistes de l\u2019Empire Romain_ (ed. 1865), p.\n      275.\n\n  598 There is a good review of the teaching of Maximus in Champagny, _Les\n      Antonins_, tome ii. pp. 207-215.\n\n_  599 Orat._ xv.; _De Servitute_.\n\n  600 See the singularly charming essay on Dion Chrysostom, in M. Martha\u2019s\n      book.\n\n  601 Mr. Buckle, in his admirable chapter on the \u201cProximate Causes of the\n      French Revolution\u201d (_Hist. of Civilisation_, vol. i.), has painted\n      this fashionable enthusiasm for knowledge with great power, and\n      illustrated it with ample learning.\n\n  602 The saying of Mme. Dudeffand about Helv\u00e9tius is well known: \u201cC\u2019est\n      un homme qui a dit le secret de tout le monde.\u201d How truly Helv\u00e9tius\n      represented this fashionable society appears very plainly from the\n      vivid portrait of it in the _Nouvelle H\u00e8lo\u00efse_, part ii. letter\n      xvii., a masterpiece of its kind.\n\n  603 Musonius tried to stop this custom of applauding the lecturer. (Aul.\n      Gell. _Noct._ v. i.) The habits that were formed in the schools of\n      the rhetoricians were sometimes carried into the churches, and we\n      have notices of preachers (especially St. Chrysostom) being\n      vociferously applauded.\n\n  604 Thus Gellius himself consulted Favorinus about a perplexing case\n      which he had, in his capacity of magistrate, to determine, and\n      received from his master a long dissertation on the duties of a\n      judge (xiv. 2).\n\n  605 i. 10.\n\n_  606 Noct. Att._ vi. 13. They called these questions _symposiac\u00e6_, as\n      being well fitted to stimulate minds already mellowed by wine.\n\n  607 xviii. 2.\n\n  608 We have a curious example of this in a letter of Marcus Aurelius\n      preserved by Gallicanus in his _Life of Avidius Cassius_.\n\n  609 \u201cSenserunt hoc Stoici qui servis et mulieribus philosophandum esse\n      dixerunt.\u201d\u2014Lact. _Nat. Div._ iii. 25. Zeno was often reproached for\n      gathering the poorest and most sordid around him when he lectured.\n      (Diog. La\u00ebrt. _Zeno_.)\n\n  610 This decadence was noticed and rebuked by some of the leading\n      philosophers. See the language of Epictetus in Arrian, ii. 19, iv.\n      8, and of Herod Atticus in Aul. Gell. i. 2, ix. 2. St. Augustine\n      speaks of the Cynics as having in his time sunk into universal\n      contempt. See much evidence on this subject in Friedl\u00e6nder, _Hist.\n      des M\u0153urs Romaines_, tome iv. 378-385.\n\n  611 This movement is well treated by Vacherot, _Hist. de l\u2019\u00c9cole\n      d\u2019Alexandrie_.\n\n_  612 De Superstitione._\n\n_  613 Dissertations_, x. \u00a7 8 (ed. Davis, London, 1740). In some editions\n      this is _Diss._ xxix.\n\n_  614 Dissert._ xxxviii.\n\n_  615 De D\u00e6mone Socratis._\n\n_  616 De D\u00e6mone Socratis._ See, on the office of d\u00e6mons or genii, Arrian\n      i. 14, and a curious chapter in Ammianus Marcell. xxi. 14. See, too,\n      Plotinus, 3rd _Enn._ lib. iv.\n\n_  617 De D\u00e6mone Socratis._\n\n  618 I should except Plotinus, however, who was faithful in this point to\n      Plato, and was in consequence much praised by the Christian Fathers.\n\n  619 \u201cOmnium malorum maximum voluptas, qua tanquam clavo et fibula anima\n      corpori nectitur; putatque vera qu\u00e6 et corpus suadet, et ita\n      spoliatur rerum divinarum aspectu.\u201d\u2014Iamblichus, _De Secta Pythagor._\n      (Rom\u00e6, 1556), p. 38. Plotinus, 1st _Enn._ vi. 6.\n\n_  620 De Sect. Pyth._ pp. 36, 37.\n\n  621 Porphyry, _Life of Plotinus_.\n\n  622 Iamblichus, _De Mysteriis._ 1.\n\n  623 See, on this doctrine of ecstasy, Vacherot, _Hist. de l\u2019\u00c9cole\n      d\u2019Alexandrie_, tome i. p. 576, &c.\n\n  624 \u201cSic habeto, omnibus qui patriam conservaverint, adjuverint,\n      auxerint, certum esse in c\u0153lo ac definitum locum ubi beati \u00e6vo\n      sempiterno fruantur.\u201d\u2014Cic. _Somn. Scip._\n\n  625 \u03a6\u1ff6\u03c2, which, according to Plutarch (who here confuses two distinct\n      words), is poetically used for man (_De Latenter Vivendo_). A\n      similar thought occurs in M. Aurelius, who speaks of the good man as\n      light which only ceases to shine when it ceases to be.\n\n_  626 Diss._ xxi. \u00a7 6.\n\n  627 Iamblichus, _De Sect. Pythagor\u00e6_, p. 35.\n\n  628 Porphyry, _Life of Plotinus_, cap. vii.; Plotinus, 1st _Enn._ iv. 7.\n      See on this subject Degerando, _Hist. de la Philos._ iii. p. 383.\n\n  629 Thus it was said of Apollonius that in his teaching at Ephesus he\n      did not speak after the manner of the followers of Socrates, but\n      endeavoured to detach his disciples from all occupation other than\n      philosophy.\u2014_Philostr. Apoll. of Tyana_, iv. 2. Cicero notices the\n      aversion the Pythagoreans of his time displayed to argument: \u201cQuum\n      ex iis qu\u00e6reretur quare ita esset, respondere solitos, Ipse dixit;\n      ipse autem erat Pythagoras.\u201d\u2014_De Nat. Deor._ i. 5.\n\n  630 See Vacherot, tome ii. p. 66.\n\n  631 See Degerando, _Hist. de la Philosophie_, tome iii. pp. 400, 401.\n\n  632 Plotinus, 1st _Enn._ ix.\n\n  633 See a strong passage, on the universality of this belief, in\n      Plotinus, 1st _Enn._ i. 12, and Origen, _Cont. Cels._ vii. A very\n      old tradition represented the Egyptians as the first people who held\n      the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. Cicero (_Tusc. Qu\u00e6st._)\n      says that the Syrian Pherecydes, master of Pythagoras, first taught\n      it. Maximus of Tyre attributes its origin to Pythagoras, and his\n      slave Zamolxis was said to have introduced it into Greece. Others\n      say that Thales first taught it. None of these assertions have any\n      real historical value.\n\n  634 We have a remarkable instance of the clearness with which some even\n      of the most insignificant historians recognised the folly of\n      confining history to the biographies of the Emperors, in the opening\n      chapter of Capitolinus, _Life of Macrinus_.\u2014Tacitus is full of\n      beautiful episodes, describing the manners and religion of the\n      people.\n\n  635 The passages relating to the Jews in Roman literature are collected\n      in Aubertin\u2019s _Rapports suppos\u00e9s entre S\u00e9n\u00e8que et St. Paul_.\n      Champagny, _Rome et Jud\u00e9e_, tome i. pp. 134-137.\n\n  636 Cicero, _pro Flacco_, 28; Sueton. _Claudius_, 25.\n\n  637 Juvenal, _Sat._ xiv.\n\n_  638 Hist._ v.\n\n  639 Lact. _Inst. Div._ vii. 3.\n\n  640 See their history fully investigated in Aubertin. Augustine followed\n      Jerome in mentioning the letters, but neither of these writers\n      asserted their genuineness. Lactantius, nearly at the same time\n      (_Inst. Div._ vi. 24), distinctly spoke of Seneca as a Pagan, as\n      Tertullian (_Apol._ 50) had done before. The immense number of\n      forged documents is one of the most disgraceful features of the\n      Church history of the first few centuries.\n\n  641 Fleury has written an elaborate work maintaining the connection\n      between the apostle and the philosopher. Troplong (_Influence du\n      Christianisme sur le Droit_) has adopted the same view. Aubertin, in\n      the work I have already cited, has maintained the opposite view\n      (which is that of all or nearly all English critics) with masterly\n      skill and learning. The Abb\u00e9 Dourif (_Rapports du Sto\u00efcisme et du\n      Christianisme_) has placed side by side the passages from each\n      writer which are most alike.\n\n  642 Quoted by St. Augustine.\u2014_De Civ. Dei_, vi. 11.\n\n  643 xi. 3.\n\n  644 The history of the two schools has been elaborately traced by\n      Ritter, Pressens\u00e9, and many other writers. I would especially refer\n      to the fourth volume of Degerando\u2019s most fascinating _Histoire de la\n      Philosophie_.\n\n  645 \u201cScurra Atticus,\u201d Min. Felix, _Octav._ This term is said by Cicero\n      to have been given to Socrates by Zeno. (Cic. _De Nat. Deor._ i.\n      34.)\n\n  646 Tertull. _De Anima_, 39.\n\n  647 See especially his _Apol._ ii. 8, 12, 13. He speaks of the\n      \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n  648 See, on all this, Clem. Alex. _Strom._ v., and also i. 22.\n\n  649 St. Clement repeats this twice (_Strom._ i. 24, v. 14). The writings\n      of this Father are full of curious, and sometimes ingenious,\n      attempts to trace different phrases of the great philosophers,\n      orators, and poets to Moses. A vast amount of learning and ingenuity\n      has been expended in the same cause by Eusebius. (_Pr\u00e6p. Evan._ xii.\n      xiii.) The tradition of the derivation of Pagan philosophy from the\n      Old Testament found in general little favour among the Latin\n      writers. There is some curious information on this subject in\n      Waterland\u2019s \u201cCharge to the Clergy of Middlesex, to prove that the\n      wisdom of the ancients was borrowed from revelation; delivered in\n      1731.\u201d It is in the 8th volume of Waterland\u2019s works (ed. 1731).\n\n  650 St. Clement (_Strom._ i.) mentions that some think him to have been\n      Ezekiel, an opinion which St. Clement himself does not hold. See, on\n      the patristic notions about Pythagoras, Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de\n      l\u2019Opinion_, tome i. p. 164.\n\n  651 This was the opinion of Julius Firmicus Maternus, a Latin writer of\n      the age of Constantine, \u201cNam quia Sar\u00e6 pronepos fuerat ... Serapis\n      dictus est Gr\u00e6co sermone, hoc est \u03a3\u03b1\u03c1\u1fb6\u03c2 \u1f04\u03c0\u03bf.\u201d\u2014Julius Firmicus\n      Maternus, _De Errore Profanarum Religionum_, cap. xiv.\n\n  652 Justin Martyr, _Apol._ i. 54; Trypho, 69-70. There is a very curious\n      collection of Pagan legends that were parallel to Jewish incidents,\n      in La Mothe le Vayer, let. xciii.\n\n  653 Suet. _Vesp._ 7; Tacit. _Hist._ iv. 81. There is a slight difference\n      between the two historians about the second miracle. Suetonius says\n      it was the leg, Tacitus that it was the hand, that was diseased. The\n      god Serapis was said to have revealed to the patients that they\n      would be cured by the emperor. Tacitus says that Vespasian did not\n      believe in his own power; that it was only after much persuasion he\n      was induced to try the experiment; that the blind man was well known\n      in Alexandria, where the event occurred, and that eyewitnesses who\n      had no motive to lie still attested the miracle.\n\n  654 The following is a good specimen of the language which may still be\n      uttered, apparently without exciting any protest, from the pulpit in\n      one of the great centres of English learning: \u201cBut we have prayed,\n      and not been heard, at least in this present visitation. Have we\n      deserved to be heard? In former visitations it was observed commonly\n      how the cholera lessened from the day of the public humiliation.\n      When we dreaded famine from long-continued drought, on the morning\n      of our prayers the heaven over our head was of brass; the clear\n      burning sky showed no token of change. Men looked with awe at its\n      unmitigated clearness. In the evening was the cloud like a man\u2019s\n      hand; the relief was come.\u201d (And then the author adds, in a note):\n      \u201cThis describes what I myself saw on the Sunday morning in Oxford,\n      on returning from the early communion at St. Mary\u2019s at eight. There\n      was no visible change till the evening.\u201d\u2014Pusey\u2019s _Miracles of\n      Prayer_, preached at Oxford, 1866.\n\n  655 E.g.: \u201cA master of philosophy, travelling with others on the way,\n      when a fearful thunderstorm arose, checked the fear of his fellows,\n      and discoursed to them of the natural reasons of that uproar in the\n      clouds, and those sudden flashes wherewith they seemed (out of the\n      ignorance of causes) to be too much affrighted: in the midst of his\n      philosophical discourse he was struck dead with the dreadful\n      eruption which he slighted. What could this be but the finger of\n      that God who will have his works rather entertained with wonder and\n      trembling than with curious scanning?\u201d\u2014Bishop Hall, _The Invisible\n      World_, \u00a7 vi.\n\n  656 Sir C. Lewis _On the Credibility of Roman Hist._ vol. i. p. 50.\n\n  657 Cic. _De Divin._ lib. i. c. 1.\n\n  658 \u201cThe days on which the miracle [of the king\u2019s touch] was to be\n      wrought were fixed at sittings of the Privy Council, and were\n      solemnly notified by the clergy to all the parish churches of the\n      realm. When the appointed time came, several divines in full\n      canonicals stood round the canopy of state. The surgeon of the royal\n      household introduced the sick. A passage of Mark xvi. was read. When\n      the words \u2018They shall lay their hands on the sick and they shall\n      recover,\u2019 had been pronounced, there was a pause and one of the sick\n      was brought to the king. His Majesty stroked the ulcers.... Then\n      came the Epistle, &c. The Service may still be found in the Prayer\n      Books of the reign of Anne. Indeed, it was not until some time after\n      the accession of George I. that the University of Oxford ceased to\n      reprint the office of healing, together with the Liturgy.\n      Theologians of eminent learning, ability, and virtue gave the\n      sanction of their authority to this mummery, and, what is stranger\n      still, medical men of high note believed, or affected to believe,\n      it.... Charles II., in the course of his reign, touched near 100,000\n      persons.... In 1682 he performed the rite 8,500 times. In 1684 the\n      throng was such that six or seven of the sick were trampled to\n      death. James, in one of his progresses, touched 800 persons in the\n      choir of the cathedral of Chester.\u201d\u2014Macaulay\u2019s _History of England_,\n      c. xiv.\n\n  659 One of the surgeons of Charles II. named John Brown, whose official\n      duty it was to superintend the ceremony, and who assures us that he\n      has witnessed many thousands touched, has written an extremely\n      curious account of it, called _Charisma Basilicon_ (London, 1684).\n      This miraculous power existed exclusively in the English and French\n      royal families, being derived, in the first, from Edward the\n      Confessor, in the second, from St. Lewis. A surgeon attested the\n      reality of the disease before the miracle was performed. The king\n      hung a riband with a gold coin round the neck of the person touched;\n      but Brown thinks the gold, though possessing great virtue, was not\n      essential to the cure. He had known cases where the cured person had\n      sold, or ceased to wear, the medal, and his disease returned. The\n      gift was unimpaired by the Reformation, and an obdurate Catholic was\n      converted on finding that Elizabeth, after the Pope\u2019s\n      excommunication, could cure his scrofula. Francis I. cured many\n      persons when prisoner in Spain. Charles I., when a prisoner, cured a\n      man by his simple benediction, the Puritans not permitting him to\n      touch him. His blood had the same efficacy; and Charles II., when an\n      exile in the Netherlands, still retained it. There were, however,\n      some \u201cAtheists, Sadducees, and ill-conditioned Pharisees\u201d who even\n      then disbelieved it; and Brown gives the letter of one who went, a\n      complete sceptic, to satisfy his friends, and came away cured and\n      converted. It was popularly, but Brown says erroneously, believed\n      that the touch was peculiarly efficacious on Good Friday. An\n      official register was kept, for every month in the reign of Charles\n      II., of the persons touched, but two years and a half appear to be\n      wanting. The smallest number touched in one year was 2,983 (in\n      1669); the total, in the whole reign, 92,107. Brown gives numbers of\n      specific cases with great detail. Shakspeare has noticed the power\n      (_Macbeth_, Act iv. Scene 3). Dr. Johnson, when a boy, was touched\n      by Queen Anne; but at that time few persons, except Jacobites,\n      believed the miracle.\n\n  660 Lucretius, lib. vi. The poet says there are certain seeds of fire in\n      the earth, around the water, which the sun attracts to itself, but\n      which the cold of the night represses, and forces back upon the\n      water.\n\n      The fountain of Jupiter Ammon, and many others that were deemed\n      miraculous, are noticed by Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ ii. 106.\n\n      \u201cFly not yet; the fount that played\n      In times of old through Ammon\u2019s shade,\n      Though icy cold by day it ran,\n      Yet still, like souls of mirth, began\n      To burn when night was near.\u201d\u2014Moore\u2019s _Melodies_.\n\n  661 Tacit. _Annal._ i. 28. Long afterwards, the people of Turin were\n      accustomed to greet every eclipse with loud cries, and St. Maximus\n      of Turin energetically combated their superstition. (Ceillier,\n      _Hist. des Auteurs sacr\u00e9s_, tome xiv. p. 607.)\n\n  662 Suet. _Aug._ xci.\n\n  663 See the answer of the younger Pliny (_Ep._ i. 18), suggesting that\n      dreams should often be interpreted by contraries. A great many\n      instances of dreams that were believed to have been verified are\n      given in Cic. (_De Divinatione_, lib. i.) and Valerius Maximus (lib.\n      i. c. vii.). Marcus Aurelius (Capitolinus) was said to have appeared\n      to many persons after his death in dreams, and predicted the future.\n\n  664 The augurs had noted eleven kinds of lightning with different\n      significations. (Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ ii. 53.) Pliny says all nations\n      agree in clapping their hands when it lightens (xxviii. 5). Cicero\n      very shrewdly remarked that the Roman considered lightning a good\n      omen when it shone upon his left, while the Greeks and barbarians\n      believed it to be auspicious when it was upon the right. (Cic. _De\n      Divinat._ ii. 39.) When Constantine prohibited all other forms of\n      magic, he especially authorised that which was intended to avert\n      hail and lightning. (_Cod. Theod._ lib. ix. tit. xvi. 1. 3.)\n\n  665 Suet. _Aug._ xc.\n\n  666 Ibid. _Tiber._ lxix. The virtue of laurel leaves, and of the skin of\n      a sea-calf, as preservatives against lightning, are noticed by Pliny\n      (_Hist. Nat._ ii. 56), who also says (xv. 40) that the laurel leaf\n      is believed to have a natural antipathy to fire, which it shows by\n      its angry crackling when in contact with that element.\n\n  667 Suet. _Calig._ ii.\n\n  668 Suet. _Jul. C\u00e6s._ lxxxviii.\n\n  669 Plin. _Hist. Nat._ ii. 23.\n\n  670 \u201cProdigia eo anno multa nuntiata sunt, qu\u00e6 quo magis credebant\n      simplices ac religiosi homines eo plura nuntiabantur\u201d (xxiv. 10).\n      Compare with this the remark of Cicero on the oracles: \u201cQuando autem\n      illa vis evanuit? An postquam homines minus creduli esse c\u0153perunt?\u201d\n      (_De Div._ ii. 57.)\n\n  671 This theory, which is developed at length by the Stoic, in the first\n      book of the _De Divinatione_ of Cicero, grew out of the pantheistic\n      notion that the human soul is a part of the Deity, and therefore by\n      nature a participator in the Divine attribute of prescience. The\n      soul, however, was crushed by the weight of the body; and there were\n      two ways of evoking its prescience\u2014the ascetic way, which attenuates\n      the body, and the magical way, which stimulates the soul. Apollonius\n      declared that his power of prophecy was not due to magic, but solely\n      to his abstinence from animal food. (Philost. _Ap. of Tyana_, viii.\n      5.) Among those who believed the oracles, there were two theories.\n      The first was that they were inspired by d\u00e6mons or spirits of a\n      degree lower than the gods. The second was, that they were due to\n      the action of certain vapours which emanated from the caverns\n      beneath the temples, and which, by throwing the priestess into a\n      state of delirium, evoked her prophetic powers. The first theory was\n      that of the Platonists, and it was adopted by the Christians, who,\n      however, changed the signification of the word d\u00e6mon. The second\n      theory, which appears to be due to Aristotle (Baltus, _R\u00e9ponse \u00e0\n      l\u2019Histoire des Oracles_, p. 132), is noticed by Cic. _De Div._ i.\n      19; Plin. _H. N._ ii. 95; and others. It is closely allied to the\n      modern belief in clairvoyance. Plutarch, in his treatise on the\n      decline of the oracles, attributes that decline sometimes to the\n      death of the d\u00e6mons (who were believed to be mortal), and sometimes\n      to the exhaustion of the vapours. The oracles themselves, according\n      to Porphyry (Fontenelle, _Hist. des Oracles_, pp. 220-222, first\n      ed.), attributed it to the second cause. Iamblichus (_De Myst._ \u00a7\n      iii. c. xi.) combines both theories, and both are very clearly\n      stated in the following curious passage: \u201cQuamquam Platoni credam\n      inter deos atque homines, natura et loco medias quasdam divorum\n      potestates intersitas, easque divinationes cunctas et magorum\n      miracula gubernare. Quin et illud mecum reputo, posse animum\n      humanum, pr\u00e6sertim, puerilem et simplicem, seu carminum avocamento,\n      sive odorum delenimento, soporari, et ad oblivionem pr\u00e6sentium\n      externari: et paulis per remota corporis memoria, redigi ac redire\n      ad naturam suam, qu\u00e6 est immortalis scilicet et divina; atque ita\n      veluti quodam sopore, futura rerum pr\u00e6sagire.\u201d\u2014Apuleius, _Apolog._\n\n  672 Aul. Gell. _Noct._ ii. 28. Florus, however (_Hist._ i. 19), mentions\n      a Roman general appeasing the goddess Earth on the occasion of an\n      earthquake that occurred during a battle.\n\n  673 \u00c6lian, _Hist. Var._ iv. 17.\n\n_  674 Hist. Nat._ ii. 81-86.\n\n  675 Ibid. ii. 9.\n\n  676 Ibid. ii. 23.\n\n  677 I have referred in the last chapter to a striking passage of Am.\n      Marcellinus on this combination. The reader may find some curious\n      instances of the superstitions of Roman sceptics in Champagny, _Les\n      Antonins_, tome iii. p. 46.\n\n  678 viii. 19. This is also mentioned by Lucretius.\n\n  679 viii. 1.\n\n  680 viii. 50. This was one of the reasons why the early Christians\n      sometimes adopted the stag as a symbol of Christ.\n\n  681 xxix. 23.\n\n  682 xxxii. 1.\n\n  683 vii. 2.\n\n  684 xxviii. 7. The blind man restored to sight by Vespasian was cured by\n      anointing his eyes with spittle. (Suet. _Vesp._ 7; Tacit. _Hist._\n      iv. 81.)\n\n  685 Ibid. The custom of spitting in the hand before striking still\n      exists among pugilists.\n\n  686 ii. 101.\n\n  687 Legendre, _Trait\u00e9 de l\u2019Opinion_, tome ii. p. 17. The superstition\n      is, however, said still to linger in many sea-coast towns.\n\n  688 Lucian is believed to have died about two years before Marcus\n      Aurelius.\n\n  689 See his very curious Life by Philostratus. This Life was written at\n      the request of Julia Domna, the wife of Septimus Severus, whether or\n      not with the intention of opposing the Gospel narrative is a\n      question still fiercely discussed. Among the most recent Church\n      historians, Pressens\u00e9 maintains the affirmative, and Neander the\n      negative. Apollonius was born at nearly the same time as Christ, but\n      outlived Domitian. The traces of his influence are widely spread\n      through the literature of the empire. Eunapius calls him \u201c\u1f08\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f41 \u1f10\u03ba \u03a4\u03c5\u03ac\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba\u03ad\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1fbd \u1f26\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u1ff6\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u03bc\u03ad\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd.\u201d\u2014_Lives of the Sophists._ Xiphilin relates (lxvii. 18) the\n      story, told also by Philostratus, how Apollonius, being at Ephesus,\n      saw the assassination of Domitian at Rome. Alexander Severus placed\n      (_Lampridius Severus_) the statue of Apollonius with those of\n      Orpheus, Abraham, and Christ, for worship in his oratory. Aurelian\n      was reported to have been diverted from his intention of destroying\n      Tyana by the ghost of the philosopher, who appeared in his tent,\n      rebuked him, and saved the city (Vopiscus, _Aurelian_); and, lastly,\n      the Pagan philosopher Hierocles wrote a book opposing Apollonius to\n      Christ, which was answered by Eusebius. The Fathers of the fourth\n      century always spoke of him as a great magician. Some curious\n      passages on the subject are collected by M. Chassang, in the\n      introduction to his French translation of the work of Philostratus.\n\n  690 See his defence against the charge of magic. Apuleius, who was at\n      once a brilliant rhetorician, the writer of an extremely curious\n      novel (_The Metamorphoses, or Golden Ass_), and of many other works,\n      and an indefatigable student of the religious mysteries of his time,\n      lived through the reigns of Hadrian and his two successors. After\n      his death his fame was for about a century apparently eclipsed; and\n      it has been noticed as very remarkable that Tertullian, who lived a\n      generation after Apuleius, and who, like him, was a Carthaginian,\n      has never even mentioned him. During the fourth century his\n      reputation revived, and Lactantius, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine\n      relate that many miracles were attributed to him, and that he was\n      placed by the Pagans on a level with Christ, and regarded by some as\n      even a greater magician. See the sketch of his life by M. B\u00e9tolaud\n      prefixed to the Panckoucke edition of his works.\n\n_  691 Life of Alexander._ There is an extremely curious picture of the\n      religious jugglers, who were wandering about the Empire, in the\n      eighth and ninth books of the _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius. See, too,\n      Juvenal, _Sat._ vi. 510-585.\n\n  692 Porphyry\u2019s _Life of Plotinus_.\n\n  693 Eunapius, _Porph._\n\n  694 Ibid. _Iamb._ Iamblichus himself only laughed at the report.\n\n  695 Eunapius, _Iamb._\n\n  696 See her life in Eunapius, _\u0152descus_. \u00c6lian and the rhetorician\n      Aristides are also full of the wildest prodigies. There is an\n      interesting dissertation on this subject in Friedl\u00e6nder (_Trad.\n      Franc._ tome iv. p. 177-186).\n\n  697 \u201cCredat Jud\u00e6us Apella.\u201d\u2014Hor. _Sat._ v. 100.\n\n  698 This appears from all the writings of the Fathers. There were,\n      however, two forms of Pagan miracles about which there was some\n      hesitation in the early Church\u2014the beneficent miracle of healing and\n      the miracle of prophecy. Concerning the first, the common opinion\n      was that the d\u00e6mons only cured diseases they had themselves caused,\n      or that, at least, if they ever (in order to enthral men more\n      effectually) cured purely natural diseases, they did it by natural\n      means, which their superior knowledge and power placed at their\n      disposal. Concerning prophecy, it was the opinion of some of the\n      Fathers that intuitive prescience was a Divine prerogative, and that\n      the prescience of the d\u00e6mons was only acquired by observation. Their\n      immense knowledge enabled them to forecast events to a degree far\n      transcending human faculties, and they employed this power in the\n      oracles.\n\n_  699 De Origine ac Progressu Idolatri\u00e6_ (Amsterdam).\n\n  700 This characteristic of early Christian apology is forcibly exhibited\n      by Pressens\u00e9, _Hist. des trois premiers Si\u00e8cles_, 2me s\u00e9rie, tome\n      ii.\n\n  701 The immense number of these forged writings is noticed by all candid\n      historians, and there is, I believe, only one instance of any\n      attempt being made to prevent this pious fraud. A priest was\n      degraded for having forged some voyages of St. Paul and St. Thecla.\n      (Tert. _De Baptismo_, 17.)\n\n_  702 Apol._ i.\n\n_  703 Strom._ vi. c. 5.\n\n  704 Origen, _Cont. Cols._ v.\n\n_  705 Oratio_ (apud Euseb.) xviii.\n\n_  706 De Civ. Dei_, xviii. 23.\n\n  707 Constantine, _Oratio_ xix. \u201cHis testimoniis quidam revicti solent eo\n      confugere ut aiant non esse illa carmina Sibyllina, sed a nostris\n      conficta atque composita.\u201d\u2014Lactant. _Div. Inst._ iv. 15.\n\n  708 Antonius Possevinus, _Apparatus Sacer_ (1606), verb. \u201cSibylla.\u201d\n\n  709 This subject is fully treated by Middleton in his _Free Enquiry_,\n      whom I have closely followed.\n\n  710 Iren\u00e6us, _Contr. H\u00e6res._ ii. 32.\n\n  711 Epiphan. _Adv. H\u00e6res._ ii. 30.\n\n  712 St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, xxii. 8.\n\n  713 This history is related by St. Ambrose in a letter to his sister\n      Marcellina; by St. Paulinus of Nola, in his _Life of Ambrose_; and\n      by St. Augustine, _De Civ. Dei_, xxii. 8; _Confess._ ix. 7.\n\n  714 Plutarch thought they were known by Plato, but this opinion has been\n      much questioned. See a very learned discussion on the subject in\n      Farmer\u2019s _Dissertation on Miracles_, pp. 129-140; and Fontenelle,\n      _Hist. des Oracles_, pp. 26, 27. Porphyry speaks much of evil\n      d\u00e6mons.\n\n  715 Josephus, _Antiq._ viii. 2, \u00a7 5.\n\n  716 This very curious subject is fully treated by Baltus (_R\u00e9ponse \u00e0\n      l\u2019Histoire des Oracles_, Strasburg, 1707, published anonymously in\n      reply to Van Dale and Fontenelle), who believed in the reality of\n      the Pagan as well as the patristic miracles; by Bingham\n      (_Antiquities of the Christian Church_, vol. i. pp. 316-324), who\n      thinks the Pagan and Jewish exorcists were impostors, but not the\n      Christians; and by Middleton (_Free Enquiry_, pp. 80-93), who\n      disbelieves in all the exorcists after the apostolic times. It has\n      also been the subject of a special controversy in England, carried\n      on by Dodwell, Church, Farmer, and others. Archdeacon Church says:\n      \u201cIf we cannot vindicate them [the Fathers of the first three\n      centuries] on this article, their credit must be lost for ever; and\n      we must be obliged to decline all further defence of them. It is\n      impossible for any words more strongly to express a claim to this\n      miracle than those used by all the best writers of the second and\n      third centuries.\u201d\u2014_Vindication of the Miracles of the First Three\n      Centuries_, p. 199. So, also, Baltus: \u201cDe tous les anciens auteurs\n      eccl\u00e9siastiques, n\u2019y en ayant pas un qui n\u2019ait parl\u00e9 de ce pouvoir\n      admirable que les Chr\u00e9tiens avoient de chasser les d\u00e9mons\u201d (p. 296).\n      Gregory of Tours describes exorcism as sufficiently common in his\n      time, and mentions having himself seen a monk named Julian cure by\n      his words a possessed person. (_Hist._ iv. 32.)\n\n_  717 Vit. Hilar._ Origen notices that cattle were sometimes possessed by\n      devils. See Middleton\u2019s _Free Enquiry_, pp. 88, 89.\n\n  718 The miracle of St. Babylas is the subject of a homily by St.\n      Chrysostom, and is related at length by Theodoret, Sozomen, and\n      Socrates. Libanius mentions that, by command of Julian, the bones of\n      St. Babylas were removed from the temple. The Christians said the\n      temple was destroyed by lightning; the Pagans declared it was burnt\n      by the Christians, and Julian ordered measures of reprisal to be\n      taken. Amm. Marcellinus, however, mentions a report that the fire\n      was caused accidentally by one of the numerous candles employed in\n      the ceremony. The people of Antioch defied the emperor by chanting,\n      as they removed the relics, \u201cConfounded be all they that trust in\n      graven images.\u201d\n\n  719 See the _Life of Gregory Thaumaturgus_, by Gregory of Nyssa. St.\n      Gregory the Great assures us (_Dial._ iii. 10) that Sabinus, Bishop\n      of Placentia, wrote a letter to the river Po, which had overflowed\n      its banks and flooded some church lands. When the letter was thrown\n      into the stream the waters at once subsided.\n\n  720 \u201cEdatur hic aliquis sub tribunalibus vestris, quem d\u00e6mone agi\n      constet. Jussus a quolibet Christiano loqui spiritus ille, tam se\n      d\u00e6monem confitebitur de vero, quam alibi deum de falso. \u00c6que\n      producatur aliquis ex iis qui de deo pati existimantur, qui aris\n      inhalantes numen de nidore concipiunt ... nisi se d\u00e6mones confessi\n      fuerint, Christiano mentiri non audentes, ibidem illius Christiani\n      procacissimi sanguinem fundite. Quid isto opere manifestius? quid\n      h\u00e6c probatione fidelius?\u201d\u2014Tert. _Apol._ xxiii.\n\n_  721 Apol._ i.; _Trypho_.\n\n_  722 Cont. Cels._ vii.\n\n_  723 Inst. Div._ iv. 27.\n\n_  724 Life of Antony._\n\n_  725 Octavius._\n\n_  726 De Superstitione._\n\n  727 i. 6.\n\n_  728 De Mort. Peregrin._\n\n  729 Origen, _Adv. Cels._ vi. Compare the curious letter which Vopiscus\n      (Saturninus) attributes to Hadrian, \u201cNemo illic [i.e. in Egypt]\n      archisynagogus Jud\u00e6orum, nemo Samarites, nemo Christianorum\n      presbyter, non mathematicus, non aruspex, non aliptes.\u201d\n\n  730 \u201cSi incantavit, si imprecatus est, si (ut vulgari verbo impostorum\n      utor) exorcizavit.\u201d\u2014Bingham, _Antiquities of the Christian Church_\n      (Oxf., 1855), vol. i. p. 318. This law is believed to have been\n      directed specially against the Christians, because these were very\n      prominent as exorcists, and because Lactantius (_Inst. Div._ v. 11)\n      says that Ulpian had collected the laws against them.\n\n  731 Philostorgius, _Hist. Eccl._ viii. 10.\n\n  732 See Juvenal, _Sat._ vi. 314-335.\n\n  733 See Juvenal, _Sat._ vi. 520-530.\n\n_  734 Metamorphoses_, book x.\n\n  735 See their _Lives_, by Lampridius and Spartianus.\n\n  736 The conflict between St. Cyprian and the confessors, concerning the\n      power of remitting penances claimed by the latter, though it ended\n      in the defeat of the confessors, shows clearly the influence they\n      had obtained.\n\n  737 \u201cThura plane non emimus; si Arabi\u00e6 queruntur scient Sab\u00e6i pluris et\n      carioris suas merces Christianis sepeliendis profligari quam diis\n      fumigandis.\u201d\u2014_Apol._ 42. Sometimes the Pagans burnt the bodies of\n      the martyrs, in order to prevent the Christians venerating their\n      relics.\n\n  738 Many interesting particulars about these commemrative festivals are\n      collected in Cave\u2019s _Primitive Christianity_, part i. c. vii. The\n      anniversaries were called \u201cNatalia,\u201d or birth-days.\n\n  739 See her acts in Ruinart.\n\n  740 St. Clem. Alex. _Strom._ iv. 10. There are other passages of the\n      same kind in other Fathers.\n\n_  741 Ad Scapul._ v. Eusebius (_Martyrs of Palestine_, ch. iii.) has\n      given a detailed account of six young men, who in the very height of\n      the Galerian persecution, at a time when the most hideous tortures\n      were applied to the Christians, voluntarily gave themselves up as\n      believers. Sulp. Severus (_Hist._ ii. 32), speaking of the voluntary\n      martyrs under Diocletian, says that Christians then \u201clonged for\n      death as they now long for bishoprics.\u201d \u201cCogi qui potest, nescit\n      mori,\u201d was the noble maxim of the Christians.\n\n  742 Arrian, iv. 7. It is not certain, however, that this passage alludes\n      to the Christians. The followers of Judas of Galilee were called\n      Galil\u00e6ans, and they were famous for their indifference to death. See\n      Joseph. _Antiq._ xviii. 1.\n\n  743 xi. 3.\n\n  744 Peregrinus.\n\n  745 Zosimus.\n\n  746 \u201cDo I not hate them, O Lord, that hate thee?\u2014yea, I hate them with a\n      perfect hatred.\u201d\n\n  747 See Renan\u2019s _Ap\u00f4tres_, p. 314.\n\n  748 M. Pressens\u00e9 very truly says of the Romans, \u201cLeur religion \u00e9tait\n      essentiellement un art\u2014l\u2019art de d\u00e9couvrir les desseins des dieux et\n      d\u2019agir sur eux par des rites vari\u00e9s.\u201d\u2014_Hist. des Trois premiers\n      Si\u00e8cles_, tome i. p. 192. Montesquieu has written an interesting\n      essay on the political nature of the Roman religion.\n\n  749 Sueton. _Claud._ xxv.\n\n  750 Plin. _Hist. Nat._ vii. 31.\n\n  751 Tacit. _De Orat._ xxxv.; Aul. Gell. _Noct._ xv. 11. It would appear,\n      from this last authority, that the rhetoricians were twice expelled.\n\n  752 Dion Cassius, lii. 36. Most historians believe that this speech\n      represents the opinions, not of the Augustan age, but of the age of\n      the writer who relates it.\n\n  753 On the hostility of Vespasian to philosophers, see Xiphilin, lxvi.\n      13; on that of Domitian, the _Letters_ of Pliny and the _Agricola_\n      of Tacitus.\n\n  754 See a remarkable passage in Dion Chrysostom, _Or._ lxxx. _De\n      Libertate_.\n\n  755 Cic. _De Legib._ ii. 11; Tertull. _Apol._ v.\n\n  756 Livy, iv. 30\n\n  757 Val. Maximus, i. 3, \u00a7 1.\n\n  758 Livy, xxv. 1.\n\n  759 Val. Max. i. 3, \u00a7 2.\n\n  760 See the account of these proceedings, and of the very remarkable\n      speech of Postumius, in Livy, xxxix. 8-19. Postumius notices the old\n      prohibition of foreign rites, and thus explains it:\u2014\u201cJudicabant enim\n      prudentissimi viri omnis divini humanique juris, nihil \u00e6que\n      dissolvend\u00e6 religionis esse, quam ubi non patrio sed externo ritu\n      sacrificaretur.\u201d The Senate, though suppressing these rites on\n      account of the outrageous immoralities connected with them, decreed,\n      that if any one thought it a matter of religious duty to perform\n      religious ceremonies to Bacchus, he should be allowed to do so on\n      applying for permission to the Senate, provided there were not more\n      than five assistants, no common purse, and no presiding priest.\n\n  761 Val. Max. i. 3.\n\n  762 See Dion Cassius, xl. 47; xlii. 26; xlvii. 15; liv. 6.\n\n  763 Joseph. _Antiq._ xviii. 3.\n\n  764 Tacit. _Annal._ ii. 85.\n\n  765 Tacitus relates (_Ann._ xi. 15) that under Claudius a senatus\n      consultus ordered the pontiffs to take care that the old Roman (or,\n      more properly, Etruscan) system of divination was observed, since\n      the influx of foreign superstitions had led to its disuse; but it\n      does not appear that this measure was intended to interfere with any\n      other form of worship.\n\n  766 \u201cSacrosanctam istam civitatem accedo.\u201d\u2014Apuleius, _Metam._ lib. x. It\n      is said that there were at one time no less than 420 \u00e6des sacr\u00e6 in\n      Rome. Nieupoort, _De Ritibus Romanorum_ (1716), p. 276.\n\n  767 Euseb. _Pr\u00e6p. Evang._ iv. 1. Fontenelle says very truly, \u201cIl y a\n      lieu de croire que chez les payens la religion n\u2019estoit qu\u2019une\n      pratique, dont la sp\u00e9culation estoit indiff\u00e9rente. Faites comme les\n      autres et croyez ce qu\u2019il vous plaira.\u201d\u2014_Hist. des Oracles_, p. 95.\n      It was a saying of Tiberius, that it is for the gods to care for the\n      injuries done to them: \u201cDeorum injurias diis cur\u00e6.\u201d\u2014Tacit. _Annal._\n      i. 73.\n\n  768 The most melancholy modern instance I remember is a letter of Hume\n      to a young man who was thinking of taking orders, but who, in the\n      course of his studies, became a complete sceptic. Hume strongly\n      advised him not to allow this consideration to interfere with his\n      career (Burton, _Life of Hume_, vol. ii. pp. 187, 188.) The\n      utilitarian principles of the philosopher were doubtless at the root\n      of his judgment.\n\n_  769 De Divinat._ ii. 33; _De Nat. Deor._ ii. 3.\n\n  770 \u201cQu\u00e6 omnia sapiens servabit tanquam legibus jussa non tanquam diis\n      grata.... Meminerimus cultum ejus magis ad morem quam ad rem\n      pertinere.\u201d\u2014St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, vi. 10. St. Augustine denounces\n      this view with great power. See, too, Lactantius. _Inst. Div._ ii.\n      3.\n\n_  771 Enchirid._ xxxi.\n\n  772 This is noticed by Philo.\n\n  773 The ship in which the atheist Diagoras sailed was once nearly\n      wrecked by a tempest, and the sailors declared that it was a just\n      retribution from the gods because they had received the philosopher\n      into their vessel. Diagoras, pointing to the other ships that were\n      tossed by the same storm, asked whether they imagined there was a\n      Diagoras in each. (_Cic. De Nat. Deor._ iii. 37.)\n\n  774 The vestal Oppia was put to death because the diviners attributed to\n      her unchastity certain \u201cprodigies in the heavens,\u201d that had alarmed\n      the people at the beginning of the war with Veii. (Livy, ii. 42.)\n      The vestal Urbinia was buried alive on account of a plague that had\n      fallen upon the Roman women, which was attributed to her\n      incontinence, and which is said to have ceased suddenly upon her\n      execution. (Dion. Halicar. ix.)\n\n  775 Pliny, in his famous letter to Trajan about the Christians, notices\n      that this had been the case in Bithynia.\n\n  776 Tert. _Apol._ xl. See, too, Cyprian, _contra Demetrian._, and\n      Arnobius, _Apol._ lib. i.\n\n  777 St. Aug. _De Civ. Dei_, ii. 3.\n\n  778 Instances of this kind are given by Tertullian _Ad Scapulam_, and\n      the whole treatise _On the Deaths of the Persecutors_, attributed to\n      Lactantius, is a development of the same theory. St. Cyprian\u2019s\n      treatise against Demetrianus throws much light on the mode of\n      thought of the Christians of his time. In the later historians,\n      anecdotes of adversaries of the Church dying horrible deaths became\n      very numerous. They were said especially to have been eaten by\n      worms. Many examples of this kind are collected by Jortin. (_Remarks\n      on Eccles. Hist._ vol. i. p. 432.)\n\n  779 \u201cIt is remarkable, in all the proclamations and documents which\n      Eusebius assigns to Constantine, some even written by his own hand,\n      how, almost exclusively, he dwells on this worldly superiority of\n      the God adored by the Christians over those of the heathens, and the\n      visible temporal advantages which attend on the worship of\n      Christianity. His own victory, and the disasters of his enemies, are\n      his conclusive evidences of Christianity.\u201d\u2014Milman, _Hist. of Early\n      Christianity_ (ed. 1867), vol. ii. p. 327. \u201cIt was a standing\n      argument of Athanasius, that the death of Arius was a sufficient\n      refutation of his heresy.\u201d\u2014Ibid. p. 382.\n\n  780 Socrates, _Eccl. Hist._, vii. 30.\n\n  781 Greg. Tur. ii. 30, 31. Clovis wrote to St. Avitus, \u201cYour faith is\n      our victory.\u201d\n\n  782 Milman\u2019s _Latin Christianity_ (ed. 1867), vol. ii. pp. 236-245.\n\n  783 Ibid. vol. iii. p. 248.\n\n_  784 Ep._ xl.\n\n  785 \u201cAn diutius perferimus mutari temporum vices, irata c\u0153li temperie?\n      Qu\u00e6 Paganorum exacerbata perfidia nescit natur\u00e6 libramenta servare.\n      Unde enim ver solitam gratiam abjuravit? unde \u00e6stas, messe jejuna,\n      laboriosum agricolam in spe destituit aristarum? unde hyemis\n      intemperata ferocitas uberitatem terrarum penetrabili frigore\n      sterilitatis l\u00e6sione damnavit? nisi quod ad impietatis vindictam\n      transit lege sua natur\u00e6 decretum.\u201d\u2014Novell. lii. Theodos. _De Jud\u00e6is,\n      Samaritanis, et H\u00e6reticis_.\n\n  786 Milman\u2019s _Latin Christianity_ vol. ii. p. 354.\n\n_  787 D\u00e9monomanie des Sorciers_, p. 152.\n\n  788 See a curious instance in Bayle\u2019s _Dictionary_, art. \u201cVergerius.\u201d\n\n  789 Pliny, Ep. x. 43. Trajan noticed that Nicomedia was peculiarly\n      turbulent. On the edict against the het\u00e6ri\u00e6, or associations, see\n      _Ep._ x. 97.\n\n  790 All the apologists are full of these charges. The chief passages\n      have been collected in that very useful and learned work, Kortholt,\n      _De Calumniis contra Christianos_. (Cologne, 1683.)\n\n  791 Justin Martyr tells us it was the brave deaths of the Christians\n      that converted him. (_Apol._ ii. 12.)\n\n  792 Peregrinus.\n\n_  793 Ep._ x. 97.\n\n_  794 Ep._ ii.\n\n  795 Juvenal describes the popular estimate of the Jews:\u2014\n\n      \u201cTradidit arcano quodcunque volumine Moses;\n      Non monstrare vias, eadem nisi sacra colenti,\n      Qu\u00e6situm ad fontem solos deducere verpos.\u201d\n\n      _Sat._ xix. 102-105.\n\n      It is not true that the Mosaic law contains these precepts.\n\n  796 See Merivale\u2019s _Hist. of Rome_, vol. viii. p. 176.\n\n  797 See Justin Martyr, _Trypho_, xvii.\n\n  798 Justin Martyr, _Apol._ i. 26.\n\n  799 Eusebius expressly notices that the licentiousness of the sect of\n      Carpocrates occasioned calumnies against the whole of the Christian\n      body. (iv. 7.) A number of passages from the Fathers describing the\n      immorality of these heretics are referred to by Cave, _Primitive\n      Christianity_, part ii. ch. v.\n\n  800 Epiphanius, _Adv. H\u00e6r._ lib. i. H\u00e6r. 26. The charge of murdering\n      children, and especially infants, occupies a very prominent place\n      among the recriminations of religionists. The Pagans, as we have\n      seen, brought it against the Christians, and the orthodox against\n      some of the early heretics. The Christians accused Julian of\n      murdering infants for magical purposes, and the bed of the Orontes\n      was said to have been choked with their bodies. The accusation was\n      then commonly directed against the Jews, against the witches, and\n      against the mid-wives, who were supposed to be in confederation with\n      the witches.\n\n  801 See an example in Eusebius, iii. 32. After the triumph of\n      Christianity the Arian heretics appear to have been accustomed to\n      bring accusations of immorality against the Catholics. They procured\n      the deposition of St. Eustathius, Bishop of Antioch, by suborning a\n      prostitute to accuse him of being the father of her child. The woman\n      afterwards, on her death-bed, confessed the imposture. (Theodor.\n      _Hist._ i. 21-22.) They also accused St. Athanasius of murder and\n      unchastity, both of which charges he most triumphantly repelled.\n      (Ibid. i. 30.)\n\n  802 The great exertions and success of the Christians in making female\n      converts is indignantly noticed by Celsus (_Origen_) and by the\n      Pagan interlocutor in Minucius Felix (_Octavius_), and a more minute\n      examination of ecclesiastical history amply confirms their\n      statements. I shall have in a future chapter to revert to this\n      matter. Tertullian graphically describes the anger of a man he knew,\n      at the conversion of his wife, and declares he would rather have had\n      her \u201ca prostitute than a Christian.\u201d (_Ad Nationes_, i. 4.) He also\n      mentions a governor of Cappadocia, named Herminianus, whose motive\n      for persecuting the Christians was his anger at the conversion of\n      his wife, and who, in consequence of his having persecuted, was\n      devoured by worms. (_Ad Scapul._ 3.)\n\n  803 \u201cMatronarum Auriscalpius.\u201d The title was given to Pope St. Damasus.\n      See Jortin\u2019s _Remarks on Ecclesiastical History_, vol. ii. p. 27.\n      Ammianus Marcellinus notices (xxvii. 3) the great wealth the Roman\n      bishops of his time had acquired through the gifts of women.\n      Theodoret (_Hist. Eccl._ ii. 17) gives a curious account of the\n      energetic proceedings of the Roman ladies upon the exile of Pope\n      Liberius.\n\n_  804 Conj. Pr\u00e6cept._ This passage has been thought to refer to the\n      Christians; if so, it is the single example of its kind in the\n      writings of Plutarch.\n\n  805 Pliny, in his letter on the Christians, notices that their\n      assemblies were before daybreak. Tertullian and Minucius Felix speak\n      frequently of the \u201cnocturnes convocationes,\u201d or \u201cnocturnes\n      congregationes\u201d of the Christians. The following passage, which the\n      last of these writers puts into the mouth of a Pagan, describes\n      forcibly the popular feeling about the Christians: \u201cQui de ultima\n      f\u00e6ce collectis imperitioribus et mulieribus credulis sexus sui\n      facilitate labentibus, plebem profan\u00e6 conjurationis instituunt: qu\u00e6\n      nocturnis congregationibus et jejuniis solennibus et inhumanis cibis\n      non sacro quodam sed piaculo f\u0153derantur, latebrosa et lucifugax\n      natio, in publico muta, in angulis garrula; templa ut busta\n      despiciunt, deos despuunt, rident sacra.\u201d\u2014_Octavius._ Tertullian, in\n      exhorting the Christian women not to intermarry with Pagans, gives\n      as one reason that they would not permit them to attend this\n      \u201cnightly convocation.\u201d (_Ad Uxorem_, ii. 4.) This whole chapter is a\n      graphic but deeply painful picture of the utter impossibility of a\n      Christian woman having any real community of feeling with a \u201cservant\n      of the devil.\u201d\n\n_  806 De Civ. Dei_, xix. 23.\n\n  807 The policy of the Romans with reference to magic has been minutely\n      traced by Maury, _Hist. de la Magie_. Dr. Jeremie conjectures that\n      the exorcisms of the Christians may have excited the antipathy of\n      Marcus Aurelius, he, as I have already noticed, being a disbeliever\n      on this subject. (Jeremie, _Hist. of Church in the Second and Third\n      Cent._ p. 26.) But this is mere conjecture.\n\n  808 See the picture of the sentiments of the Pagans on this matter, in\n      Plutarch\u2019s noble _Treatise on Superstition_.\n\n  809 Thus Justin Martyr: \u201cSince sensation remains in all men who have\n      been in existence, and everlasting punishment is in store, do not\n      hesitate to believe, and be convinced that what I say is true....\n      This Gehenna is a place where all will be punished who live\n      unrighteously, and who believe not that what God has taught through\n      Christ will come to pass.\u201d\u2014_Apol._ 1. 18-19. Arnobius has stated\n      very forcibly the favourite argument of many later theologians: \u201cCum\n      ergo h\u00e6c sit conditio futurorum ut teneri et comprehendi nullius\n      possint anticipationis attactu: nonne purior ratio est, ex duobus\n      incertis et in ambigua expectatione pendentibus, id potius credere\n      quod aliquas spes ferat, quam omnino quod nullas? In illo enim\n      periculi nihil est, si quod dicitur imminere cassum fiat et vacuum.\n      In hoc damnum est maximum.\u201d\u2014_Adv. Gentes_, lib. i\n\n  810 The continual enforcement of the duty of belief, and the credulity\n      of the Christians, were perpetually dwelt on by Celsus and Julian.\n      According to the first, it was usual for them to say, \u201cDo not\n      examine, but believe only.\u201d According to the latter, \u201cthe sum of\n      their wisdom was comprised in this single precept, believe.\u201d The\n      apologists frequently notice this charge of credulity as brought\n      against the Christians, and some famous sentences of Tertullian go\n      far to justify it. See Middleton\u2019s _Free Enquiry_, Introd. pp. xcii,\n      xciii.\n\n  811 See the graphic picture of the agony of terror manifested by the\n      apostates as they tottered to the altar at Alexandria, in the Decian\n      persecution, in Dionysius apud Eusebius, vi. 41. Miraculous\n      judgments (often, perhaps, the natural consequence of this extreme\n      fear) were said to have frequently fallen upon the apostates. St.\n      Cyprian has preserved a number of these in his treatise _De Lapsis_.\n      Persons, when excommunicated, were also said to have been sometimes\n      visibly possessed by devils. See Church, _On Miraculous Powers in\n      the First Three Centuries_, pp. 52-54.\n\n  812 \u201cSi quis aliquid fecerit, quo leves hominum animi superstitione\n      numinis terrerentur, Divus Marcus hujusmodi homines in insulam\n      relegari rescripsit,\u201d _Dig._ xlviii. tit. 19, l. 30.\n\n  813 A number of instances have been recorded, in which the punishment of\n      the Christians was due to their having broken idols, overturned\n      altars, or in other ways insulted the Pagans at their worship. The\n      reader may find many examples of this collected in Cave\u2019s _Primitive\n      Christianity_, part i. c. v.; Kortholt, _De Calumniis contra\n      Christianos_; Barbeyrac, _Morale des P\u00e8res_, c. xvii.; Tillemont,\n      _M\u00e9m. eccl\u00e9siast._ tome vii. pp. 354-355; Ceillier, _Hist. des\n      Auteurs sacr\u00e9s_, tome iii. pp. 531-533. The Council of Illiberis\n      found it necessary to make a canon refusing the title of \u201cmartyr\u201d to\n      those who were executed for these offences.\n\n  814 The first of these anecdotes is told by St. Jerome, the second by\n      St. Clement of Alexandria, the third by St. Iren\u00e6us.\n\n  815 The severe discipline of the early Church on this point has been\n      amply treated in Marshall\u2019s _Penitential Discipline of the Primitive\n      Church_ (first published in 1714, but reprinted in the library of\n      Anglo-Catholic theology), and in Bingham\u2019s _Antiquities of the\n      Christian Church_, vol. vi. (Oxford, 1855). The later saints\n      continually dwelt upon this duty of separation. Thus, \u201cSt. Th\u00e9odore\n      de Pherm\u00e9 disoit, que quand une personne dont nous \u00e9tions amis\n      estoit tomb\u00e9e dans la fornication, nous devions luy donner la main\n      et faire notre possible pour le relever; mais que s\u2019il estoit tomb\u00e9\n      dans quelque erreur contre la foi, et qu\u2019il ne voulust pas s\u2019en\n      corriger apr\u00e8s les premi\u00e8res remonstrances, il falloit l\u2019abandonner\n      promptement et rompre toute amiti\u00e9 avec luy, de peur qu\u2019en nous\n      amusant \u00e0 le vouloir retirer de ce gouffre, il ne nous y entra\u00eenast\n      nous-m\u00eames.\u201d\u2014Tillemont, _M\u00e9m. Eccl\u00e9s._ tome xii. p. 367.\n\n  816 \u201cHabere jam non potest Deum patrem qui ecclesiam non habet matrem.\n      Si potuit evadere quisquam qui extra arcam Noe fuit, et qui extra\n      ecclesiam foris fuerit evadit ... hanc unitatem qui non tenet ...\n      vitam non tenet et salutem ... esse martyr non potest qui in\n      ecclesia non est.... Cum Deo manere non possunt qui esse in ecclesia\n      Dei unanimes noluerunt. Ardeant licet flammis et ignibus traditi,\n      vel objecti bestiis animas suas ponunt, non erit illa fidei corona,\n      sed p\u0153na perfidi\u00e6, nec religios\u00e6 virtutis exitus gloriosus sed\n      desperationis interitus. Occidi talis potest, coronari non potest.\n      Sic se Christianum esse profitetur quo modo et Christum diabolus\n      s\u00e6pe mentitur.\u201d\u2014Cyprian, _De Unit. Eccles._\n\n  817 Eusebius, v. 16.\n\n_  818 Confess._ iii. 11. She was afterwards permitted by a special\n      revelation to sit at the same table with her son!\n\n_  819 Ep._ xl.\n\n_  820 Ep._ xviii.\n\n  821 Tertull. _De Corona_.\n\n  822 Milman\u2019s _Hist. of Christianity_, vol. ii. pp. 116-125. It is\n      remarkable that the Serapeum of Alexandria was, in the Sibylline\n      books, specially menaced with destruction.\n\n  823 Eunapius, _Lives of the Sophists_. Eunapius gives an extremely\n      pathetic account of the downfall of this temple. There is a\n      Christian account in Theodoret (v. 22). Theophilus, Bishop of\n      Alexandria, was the leader of the monks. The Pagans, under the\n      guidance of a philosopher named Olympus, made a desperate effort to\n      defend their temple. The whole story is very finely told by Dean\n      Milman. (_Hist. of Christianity_, vol. iii. pp. 68-72.)\n\n_  824 Apology_, v. The overwhelming difficulties attending this assertion\n      are well stated by Gibbon, ch. xvi. Traces of this fable may be\n      found in Justin Martyr. The freedom of the Christian worship at Rome\n      appears not only from the unanimity with which Christian writers\n      date their troubles from Nero, but also from the express statement\n      in _Acts_ xxviii. 31.\n\n  825 \u201cJud\u00e6os, impulsore Chresto, assidue tumultuantes, Roma\n      expulit.\u201d\u2014Sueton. _Claud._ xxv. This banishment of the Jews is\n      mentioned in _Acts_ xviii. 2, but is not there connected in any way\n      with Christianity. A passage in Dion Cassius (lx. 6) is supposed to\n      refer to the same transaction. Lactantius notices that the Pagans\n      were accustomed to call Christus, _Chrestus_: \u201cEum immutata litera\n      Chrestum solent dicere.\u201d\u2014_Div. Inst._ iv. 7.\n\n  826 This persecution is fully described by Tacitus (_Annal._ xv. 44),\n      and briefly noticed by Suetonius (_Nero_, xvi.).\n\n  827 This has been a matter of very great controversy. Looking at the\n      question apart from direct testimony, it appears improbable that a\n      persecution directed against the Christians on the charge of having\n      burnt Rome, should have extended to Christians who did not live near\n      Rome. On the other hand, it has been argued that Tacitus speaks of\n      them as \u201chaud perinde in crimine incendii, quam odio humani generis\n      convicti;\u201d and it has been maintained that \u201chatred of the human\n      race\u201d was treated as a crime, and punished in the provinces. But\n      this is, I think, extremely far-fetched; and it is evident from the\n      sequel that the Christians at Rome were burnt as incendiaries, and\n      that it was the conviction that they were not guilty of that crime\n      that extorted the pity which Tacitus notices. There is also no\n      reference in Tacitus to any persecution beyond the walls. If we pass\n      to the Christian evidence, a Spanish inscription referring to the\n      Neronian persecution, which was once appealed to as decisive, is now\n      unanimously admitted to be a forgery. In the fourth century,\n      however, Sulp. Severus (lib. ii.) and Orosius (_Hist._ vii. 7)\n      declared that general laws condemnatory of Christianity were\n      promulgated by Nero; but the testimony of credulous historians who\n      wrote so long after the event is not of much value. Rossi, however,\n      imagines that a fragment of an inscription found at Pompeii\n      indicates a general law against Christians. See his _Bulletino\n      d\u2019Archeologia Cristiana_ (Roma, Dec. 1865), which, however, should\n      be compared with the very remarkable _Compte rendu_ of M. Aub\u00e9,\n      _Acad. des Inscrip. et Belles-lettres_, Juin 1866. These two papers\n      contain an almost complete discussion of the persecutions of Nero\n      and Domitian. Gibbon thinks it quite certain the persecution was\n      confined to the city; Mosheim (_Eccl. Hist._ i. p. 71) adopts the\n      opposite view, and appeals to the passage in Tertullian (_Ap._ v.),\n      in which he speaks of \u201cleges ist\u00e6 ... quas Trajanus ex parte\n      frustratus est, vitando inquiri Christianos,\u201d as implying the\n      existence of special laws against the Christians. This passage,\n      however, may merely refer to the general law against unauthorised\n      religions, which Tertullian notices in this very chapter; and Pliny,\n      in his famous letter, does not show any knowledge of the existence\n      of special legislation about the Christians.\n\n  828 Ecclesiastical historians maintain, but not on very strong evidence,\n      that the Church of Rome was founded by St. Peter, A.D. 42 or 44. St.\n      Paul came to Rome A.D. 61.\n\n  829 On this horrible punishment see Juvenal, _Sat._ i. 155-157.\n\n  830 Lactantius, in the fourth century, speaks of this opinion as still\n      held by some \u201cmadmen\u201d (_De Mort. Persec._ cap. ii.); but Sulp.\n      Severus (_Hist._ lib. ii.) speaks of it as a common notion, and he\n      says that St. Martin, when asked about the end of the world,\n      answered, \u201cNeronem et Antichristum prius esse venturos: Neronem in\n      occidentali plaga regibus subactis decem, imperaturum, persecutionem\n      autem ab eo hactenus exercendam ut idola gentium coli\n      cogat.\u201d\u2014_Dial._ ii. Among the Pagans, the notion that Nero was yet\n      alive lingered long, and twenty years after his death an adventurer\n      pretending to be Nero was enthusiastically received by the Parthians\n      (Sueton. _Nero_, lvii.).\n\n  831 See the full description of it in Rossi\u2019s _Bulletino d\u2019Archeol.\n      Crist._ Dec. 1865. Eusebius (iii. 17) and Tertullian (_Apol._ v.)\n      have expressly noticed the very remarkable fact that Vespasian, who\n      was a bitter enemy to the Jews, and who exiled all the leading\n      Stoical philosophers except Musonius, never troubled the Christians.\n\n  832 See a pathetic letter of Pliny, lib. iii. _Ep._ xi. and also lib. i.\n      _Ep._ v. and the _Agricola_ of Tacitus.\n\n  833 Euseb. iii. 20.\n\n  834 \u201cPr\u00e6ter c\u00e6teros Judaicus fiscus acerbissime actus est. Ad quem\n      deferebantur, qui vel improfessi Judaicam intra urbem viverent\n      vitam, vel dissimulata origine imposita genti tributa non\n      pependissent.\u201d\u2014Sueton. _Domit._ xi. Suetonius adds that, when a\n      young man, he saw an old man of ninety examined before a large\n      assembly to ascertain whether he was circumcised.\n\n  835 Euseb. iii. 18.\n\n  836 See the accounts of these transactions in Xiphilin, the abbreviator\n      of Dion Cassius (lxvii. 14); Euseb. iii. 17-18. Suetonius notices\n      (_Domit._ xv.) that Flavius Clemens (whom he calls a man\n      \u201ccontemptissim\u00e6 inerti\u00e6\u201d) was killed \u201cex tenuissima suspicione.\u201d The\n      language of Xiphilin, who says he was killed for \u201cimpiety and Jewish\n      rites;\u201d the express assertion of Eusebius, that it was for\n      Christianity; and the declaration of Tertullian, that Christians\n      were persecuted at the close of this reign, leave, I think, little\n      doubt that this execution was connected with Christianity, though\n      some writers have questioned it. At the same time, it is very\n      probable, as Mr. Merivale thinks (_Hist. of Rome_, vol. vii. pp.\n      381-384), that though the pretext of the execution might have been\n      religious, the real motive was political jealousy. Domitian had\n      already put to death the brother of Flavius Clemens on the charge of\n      treason. His sons had been recognised as successors to the throne,\n      and at the time of his execution another leading noble named Glabrio\n      was accused of having fought in the arena. Some ecclesiastical\n      historians have imagined that there may have been two Domitillas\u2014the\n      wife and niece of Flavius Clemens. The islands of Pontia and\n      Pandataria were close to one another.\n\n  837 \u201cTentaverat et Domitianus, portio Neronis de crudelitate; sed qua et\n      homo facile c\u0153ptum repressit, restitutis etiam quos relegaverat.\u201d\n      (_Apol._ 5.) It will be observed that Tertullian makes no mention of\n      any punishment more severe than exile.\n\n  838 Euseb. iii. 20.\n\n_  839 De Mort. Persec._ iii.\n\n  840 Xiphilin, lxviii. 1. An annotator to Mosheim conjectures that the\n      edict may have been issued just before the death of the emperor, but\n      not acted on till after it.\n\n  841 Euseb. iv. 26. The whole of this apology has been recently\n      recovered, and translated into Latin by M. Renan in the _Spicilegium\n      Solesmense_.\n\n_  842 Apol._ 5.\n\n  843 Lactant. _De Mort. Persec._ 3-4.\n\n  844 Pliny, _Ep._ x. 97-98.\n\n  845 Euseb. lib. iii.\n\n  846 There is a description of this earthquake in Merivale\u2019s _Hist. of\n      the Romans_, vol. viii. pp. 155-156. Orosius (_Hist._ vii. 12)\n      thought it was a judgment on account of the persecution of the\n      Christians.\n\n  847 Eusebius, iv. 8-9. See, too, Justin Martyr, _Apol._ i. 68-69.\n\n  848 This is mentioned incidentally by Lampridius in his _Life of A.\n      Severus_.\n\n  849 See this very curious letter in Vopiscus, _Saturninus_.\n\n  850 Justin Mart. _Ap._ i. 31. Eusebius quotes a passage from Hegesippus\n      to the same effect. (iv. 8.)\n\n  851 \u201cPr\u00e6cepitque ne cui Jud\u00e6o introeundi Hierosolymam esset licentia,\n      Christianis tantum civitate permissa.\u201d\u2014_Oros._ vii. 13.\n\n  852 A letter which Eusebius gives at full (iv. 13), and ascribes to\n      Antoninus Pius, has created a good deal of controversy. Justin Mart.\n      (_Apol._ i. 71) and Tertullian (_Apol._ 5) ascribe it to Marcus\n      Aurelius. It is now generally believed to be a forgery by a\n      Christian hand, being more like a Christian apology than the letter\n      of a Pagan emperor. St. Melito, however, writing to Marcus Aurelius,\n      expressly states that Antoninus had written a letter forbidding the\n      persecution of Christians. (Euseb. iv. 26.)\n\n  853 It is alluded to by Minucius Felix.\n\n  854 Eusebius, iv. 16.\n\n  855 St. Melito expressly states that the edicts of Marcus Aurelius\n      produced the Asiatic persecution.\n\n  856 Eusebius, iv. 15.\n\n  857 See the most touching and horrible description of this persecution\n      in a letter written by the Christians of Lyons, in Eusebius, v. 1.\n\n  858 Sulpicius Severus (who was himself a Gaul) says of their martyrdom\n      (_H. E._, lib. ii.), \u201cTum primum intra Gallias Martyria visa, serius\n      trans Alpes Dei religione suscepta.\u201d Tradition ascribes Gallic\n      Christianity to the apostles, but the evidence of inscriptions\n      appears to confirm the account of Severus. It is at least certain\n      that Christianity did not acquire a great extension till later. The\n      earliest Christian inscriptions found are (one in each year) of A.D.\n      334, 347, 377, 405, and 409. They do not become common till the\n      middle of the fifth century. See a full discussion of this in the\n      preface of M. Le Blant\u2019s admirable and indeed exhaustive work,\n      _Inscriptions Chr\u00e9tiennes de la Gaule_.\n\n  859 It was alleged among the Christians, that towards the close of his\n      reign Marcus Aurelius issued an edict protecting the Christians, on\n      account of a Christian legion having, in Germany, in a moment of\n      great distress, procured a shower of rain by their prayers. (Tert.\n      _Apol._ 5.) The shower is mentioned by Pagan as well as Christian\n      writers, and is portrayed on the column of Antoninus. It was\n      \u201cascribed to the incantations of an Egyptian magician, to the\n      prayers of a legion of Christians, or to the favour of Jove towards\n      the best of mortals, according to the various prejudices of\n      different observers.\u201d\u2014Merivale\u2019s _Hist. of Rome_, vol. viii. p. 338.\n\n  860 Xiphilin, lxxii. 4. The most atrocious of the Pagan persecutions was\n      attributed, as we shall see, to the mother of Galerius, and in\n      Christian times the Spanish Inquisition was founded by Isabella the\n      Catholic; the massacre of St. Bartholomew was chiefly due to\n      Catherine of Medicis, and the most horrible English persecution to\n      Mary Tudor.\n\n  861 Euseb. v. 21. The accuser, we learn from St. Jerome, was a slave. On\n      the law condemning slaves who accused their masters, compare\n      Pressens\u00e9, _Hist. des Trois premiers Si\u00e8cles_ (2me s\u00e9rie), tome i.\n      pp. 182-183, and Jeremie\u2019s _Church History of Second and Third\n      Centuries_, p. 29. Apollonius was of senatorial rank. It is said\n      that some other martyrs died at the same time.\n\n  862 \u201cJud\u00e6os fieri sub gravi p\u0153na vetuit. Idem etiam de Christianis\n      sanxit.\u201d\u2014Spartian. _S. Severus_. The persecution is described by\n      Eusebius, lib. vi. Tertullian says Severus was favourable to the\n      Christians, a Christian named Proculus (whom he, in consequence,\n      retained in the palace till his death) having cured him of an\n      illness by the application of oil. (_Ad Scapul._ 4.)\n\n  863 \u201cOf the persecution under Severus there are few, if any, traces in\n      the West. It is confined to Syria, perhaps to Cappadocia, to Egypt,\n      and to Africa, and in the latter provinces appears as the act of\n      hostile governors proceeding upon the existing laws, rather than the\n      consequence of any recent edict of the emperor.\u201d\u2014Milman\u2019s _Hist. of\n      Christianity_, vol. ii. pp. 156-157.\n\n_  864 Adv. Cels._ iii. See Gibbon, ch. xvi.\n\n  865 Eusebius, vi. 28.\n\n  866 Lampridius, _A. Severus_. The historian adds, \u201cJud\u00e6is privilegia\n      reservavit. Christianos esse passus est.\u201d\n\n  867 Compare Milman\u2019s _History of Early Christianity_ (1867), vol. ii. p.\n      188, and his _History of Latin Christianity_ (1867), vol. i. pp.\n      26-59. There are only two cases of alleged martyrdom before this\n      time that can excite any reasonable doubt. Iren\u00e6us distinctly\n      asserts that Telesphorus was martyred; but his martyrdom is put in\n      the beginning of the reign of Antoninus Pius (he had assumed the\n      mitre near the end of the reign of Hadrian), and Antoninus is\n      represented, by the general voice of the Church, as perfectly free\n      from the stain of persecution. A tradition, which is in itself\n      sufficiently probable, states that Pontianus, having been exiled by\n      Maximinus, was killed in banishment.\n\n  868 Tacitus has a very ingenious remark on this subject, which\n      illustrates happily the half-scepticism of the Empire. After\n      recounting a number of prodigies that were said to have taken place\n      in the reign of Otho, he remarks that these were things habitually\n      noticed in the ages of ignorance, but now only noticed in periods of\n      terror. \u201cRudibus s\u00e6culis etiam in pace observata, qu\u00e6 nunc tantum in\n      metu audiuntur.\u201d\u2014_Hist._ i. 86.\n\n  869 M. de Champagny has devoted an extremely beautiful chapter (_Les\n      Antonins_, tome ii. pp. 179-200) to the liberty of the Roman Empire.\n      See, too, the fifty-fourth chapter of Mr. Merivale\u2019s _History_. It\n      is the custom of some of the apologists for modern C\u00e6sarism to\n      defend it by pointing to the Roman Empire as the happiest period in\n      human history. No apology can be more unfortunate. The first task of\n      a modern despot is to centralise to the highest point, to bring\n      every department of thought and action under a system of police\n      regulation, and, above all, to impose his shackling tyranny upon the\n      human mind. The very perfection of the Roman Empire was, that the\n      municipal and personal liberty it admitted had never been surpassed,\n      and the intellectual liberty had never been equalled.\n\n  870 Sueton. _Aug._ xxxi. It appears from a passage in Livy (xxxix. 16)\n      that books of oracles had been sometimes burnt in the Republic.\n\n  871 Tacitus has given us a very remarkable account of the trial of\n      Cremutius Cordus, under Tiberius, for having published a history in\n      which he had praised Brutus and called Cassius the last of Romans.\n      (_Annal._ iv. 34-35.) He expressly terms this \u201cnovo ac tunc primum\n      audito crimine,\u201d and he puts a speech in the mouth of the accused,\n      describing the liberty previously accorded to writers. Cordus\n      avoided execution by suicide. His daughter, Marcia, preserved some\n      copies of his work, and published it in the reign and with the\n      approbation of Caligula. (Senec. _Ad. Marc._ 1; Suet. _Calig._ 16.)\n      There are, however, some traces of an earlier persecution of\n      letters. Under the sanction of a law of the decemvirs against\n      libellers, Augustus exiled the satiric writer Cassius Severus, and\n      he also destroyed the works of an historian named Labienus, on\n      account of their seditious sentiments. These writings were\n      re-published with those of Cordus. Generally, however, Augustus was\n      very magnanimous in his dealings with his assailants. He refused the\n      request of Tiberius to punish them (Suet. _Aug._ 51), and only\n      excluded from his palace Timagenes, who bitterly satirised both him\n      and the empress, and proclaimed himself everywhere the enemy of the\n      emperor. (Senec. _De Ira_, iii. 23.) A similar magnanimity was shown\n      by most of the other emperors; among others, by Nero. (Suet. _Nero_,\n      39.) Under Vespasian, however, a poet, named Maternus, was obliged\n      to retouch a tragedy on Cato (Tacit. _De Or._ 2-3), and Domitian\n      allowed no writings opposed to his policy. (Tacit. _Agric._) But no\n      attempt appears to have been made in the Empire to control religious\n      writings till the persecution of Diocletian, who ordered the\n      Scriptures to be burnt. The example was speedily followed by the\n      Christian emperors. The writings of Arius were burnt in A.D. 321,\n      those of Porphyry in A.D. 388. Pope Gelasius, in A.D. 496, drew up a\n      list of books which should not be read, and all liberty of\n      publication speedily became extinct. See on this subject Peignot,\n      _Essai historique sur la Libert\u00e9 d\u2019\u00c9crire_; Villemain, _\u00c9tudes de\n      Litt\u00e8r. ancienne_; Sir C. Lewis on the _Credibility of Roman Hist._\n      vol. i. p. 52; Nadal, _M\u00e9moire sur la libert\u00e9 qu\u2019avoient les soldats\n      romains de dire des vers satyriques contre ceux qui triomphoient_\n      (Paris 1725).\n\n  872 See a collection of passages on this point in Pressens\u00e9, _Hist. des\n      Trois premiers Si\u00e8cles_ (2me s\u00e9rie), tome i. pp. 3-4.\n\n_  873 Trypho._\n\n_  874 Apol._ xxxvii.\n\n  875 Euseb. vi. 43.\n\n  876 Eusebius, it is true, ascribes this persecution (vi. 39) to the\n      hatred Decius bore to his predecessor Philip, who was very friendly\n      to the Christians. But although such a motive might account for a\n      persecution like that of Maximin, which was directed chiefly against\n      the bishops who had been about the Court of Severus, it is\n      insufficient to account for a persecution so general and so severe\n      as that of Decius. It is remarkable that this emperor is uniformly\n      represented by the Pagan historians as an eminently wise and humane\n      sovereign. See Dodwell, _De Paucitate Martyrum_, lii.\n\n  877 St. Cyprian (_Ep._ vii.) and, at a later period, St. Jerome (_Vit.\n      Pauli_), both notice that during this persecution the desire of the\n      persecutors was to subdue the constancy of the Christians by\n      torture, without gratifying their desire for martyrdom. The\n      consignment of Christian virgins to houses of ill fame was one of\n      the most common incidents in the later acts of martyrs which were\n      invented in the middle ages. Unhappily, however, it must be\n      acknowledged that there are some undoubted traces of it at an\n      earlier date. Tertullian, in a famous passage, speaks of the cry \u201cAd\n      Lenonem\u201d as substituted for that of \u201cAd Leonem;\u201d and St. Ambrose\n      recounts some strange stories on this subject in his treatise _De\n      Virginibus_.\n\n  878 St. Cyprian has drawn a very highly coloured picture of this general\n      corruption, and of the apostasy it produced, in his treatise _De\n      Lapsis_, a most interesting picture of the society of his time. See,\n      too, the _Life of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus_, by Greg. of Nyssa.\n\n  879 \u201cLa pers\u00e9cution de D\u00e8ce ne dura qu\u2019environ un an dans sa grande\n      violence. Car S. Cyprien, dans les lettres \u00e9crites en 251, d\u00e8s\n      devant Pasque, et mesme dans quelques-unes \u00e9crites apparemment d\u00e8s\n      la fin de 250, t\u00e9moigne que son \u00e9glise jouissoit d\u00e9j\u00e0 de quelque\n      paix, mais d\u2019une paix encore peu affermie, en sorte que le moindre\n      accident eust pu renouveler le trouble et la pers\u00e9cution. Il semble\n      mesme que l\u2019on n\u2019eust pas encore la libert\u00e9 d\u2019y tenir les\n      assembl\u00e9es, et n\u00e9anmoins il paroist que tous les confesseurs\n      prisonniers \u00e0 Carthage y avoient est\u00e9 mis en libert\u00e9 d\u00e8s ce\n      temps-l\u00e0.\u201d\u2014Tillemont, _M\u00e9m. d\u2019Hist. eccl\u00e9siastique_, tome iii. p.\n      324.\n\n  880 Dionysius the bishop wrote a full account of it, which Eusebius has\n      preserved (vi. 41-42). In Alexandria, Dionysius says, the\n      persecution produced by popular fanaticism preceded the edict of\n      Decius by an entire year. He has preserved a particular catalogue of\n      all who were put to death in Alexandria during the entire Decian\n      persecution. They were seventeen persons. Several of these were\n      killed by the mob, and their deaths were in nearly all cases\n      accompanied by circumstances of extreme atrocity. Besides these,\n      others (we know not how many) had been put to torture. Many,\n      Dionysius says, perished in other cities or villages of Egypt.\n\n  881 See St. Cyprian, _Ep._ viii.\n\n  882 There was much controversy at this time as to the propriety of\n      bishops evading persecution by flight. The Montanists maintained\n      that such a conduct was equivalent to apostasy. Tertullian had\n      written a book, _De Fuga in Persecutione_, maintaining this view;\n      and among the orthodox the conduct of St. Cyprian (who afterwards\n      nobly attested his courage by his death) did not escape\n      animadversion. The more moderate opinion prevailed, but the leading\n      bishops found it necessary to support their conduct by declaring\n      that they had received special revelations exhorting them to fly.\n      St. Cyprian, who constantly appealed to his dreams to justify him in\n      his controversies (see some curious instances collected in\n      Middleton\u2019s _Free Enquiry_, pp. 101-105), declared (_Ep._ ix.), and\n      his biographer and friend Pontius re-asserted (_Vit. Cyprianis_),\n      that his flight was \u201cby the command of God.\u201d Dionysius, the Bishop\n      of Alexandria, asserts the same thing of his own flight, and attests\n      it by an oath (see his own words in Euseb. vi. 40); and the same\n      thing was afterwards related of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus. (See his\n      _Life_ by Gregory of Nyssa.)\n\n  883 \u201cE veramente che almeno fino dal secolo terzo i fedeli abbiano\n      posseduto cimiteri a nome commune, e che il loro possesso sia stato\n      riconosciuto dagl\u2019 imperatori, \u00e8 cosa impossibile a negare.\u201d\u2014Rossi,\n      _Roma Sotterranea_, tomo i. p. 103.\n\n  884 This is all fully discussed by Rossi, _Roma Sotterranea_, tomo i.\n      pp. 101-108. Rossi thinks the Church, in its capacity of burial\n      society, was known by the name of \u201cecclesia fratrum.\u201d\n\n  885 See, on the history of early Christian Churches, Cave\u2019s _Primitive\n      Christianity_, part i. c. vi.\n\n  886 Dodwell (_De Paucit. Martyr._ lvii.) has collected evidence of the\n      subsidence of the persecution in the last year of the reign of\n      Decius.\n\n  887 This persecution is not noticed by St. Jerome, Orosius, Sulpicius\n      Severus, or Lactantius. The very little we know about it is derived\n      from the letters of St. Cyprian, and from a short notice by\n      Dionysius of Alexandria, in Eusebius, vii. 1. Dionysius says, Gallus\n      began the persecution when his reign was advancing prosperously, and\n      his affairs succeeding, which probably means, after he had procured\n      the departure of the Goths from the Illyrian province, early in A.D.\n      252 (see Gibbon, chap. x.). The disastrous position into which\n      affairs had been thrown by the defeat of Decius appears, at first,\n      to have engrossed his attention.\n\n  888 Lucius was at first exiled and then permitted to return, on which\n      occasion St. Cyprian wrote him a letter of congratulation (_Ep._\n      lvii.). He was, however, afterwards re-arrested and slain, but it is\n      not, I think, clear whether it was under Gallus or Valerian. St.\n      Cyprian speaks (_Ep._ lxvi.) of both Cornelius and Lucius as\n      martyred. The emperors were probably at this time beginning to\n      realise the power the Bishops of Rome possessed. We know hardly\n      anything of the Decian persecution at Rome except the execution of\n      the bishop; and St. Cyprian says (_Ep._ li.) that Decius would have\n      preferred a pretender to the throne to a Bishop of Rome.\n\n  889 Dionysius, Archbishop of Alexandria; see Euseb. vii. 10.\n\n  890 Eusebius, vii. 10-12; Cyprian, _Ep._ lxxxi. Lactantius says of\n      Valerian, \u201cMultum quamvis brevi tempore justi sanguinis fudit.\u201d\u2014_De\n      Mort. Persec._ c. v.\n\n  891 Cyprian. _Ep._ lxxxi.\n\n  892 See his _Life_ by the deacon Pontius, which is reproduced by Gibbon.\n\n  893 Eusebius, vii. 13.\n\n  894 Tertullian had before, in a curious passage, spoken of the\n      impossibility of Christian C\u00e6sars. \u201cSed et C\u00e6sares credidissent\n      super Christo si aut C\u00e6sares non essent seculo necessarii, aut si et\n      Christiani potuissent esse C\u00e6sares.\u201d\u2014_Apol._ xxi.\n\n_  895 Contra Demetrianum._\n\n  896 Eusebius, vii. 30. Aurelian decided that the cathedral at Antioch\n      should be given up to whoever was appointed by the bishops of Italy.\n\n  897 Compare the accounts in Eusebius, vii. 30, and Lactantius, _De\n      Mort._ c. vi.\n\n  898 See the forcible and very candid description of Eusebius, viii. 1.\n\n  899 This is noticed by Optatus.\n\n  900 See the vivid pictures in Lact. _De Mort. Persec._\n\n  901 Lactant. _De Mort. Persec._ 15.\n\n  902 Eusebius, viii.\n\n  903 These incidents are noticed by Eusebius in his _History_, and in his\n      _Life of Constantine_, and by Lactantius, _De Mort. Persec._\n\n  904 \u201cItaly, Sicily, Gaul, and whatever parts extend towards the\n      West,\u2014Spain, Mauritania, and Africa.\u201d\u2014Euseb. _Mart. Palest._ ch.\n      xiii. But in Gaul, as I have said, the persecution had not extended\n      beyond the destruction of churches; in these provinces the\n      persecution, Eusebius says, lasted not quite two years.\n\n  905 The history of this persecution is given by Eusebius, _Hist._ lib.\n      viii., in his work on the _Martyrs of Palestine_, and in Lactantius,\n      _De Mort. Persec._ The persecution in Palestine was not quite\n      continuous: in A.D. 308 it had almost ceased; it then revived\n      fiercely, but at the close of A.D. 309, and in the beginning of A.D.\n      310, there was again a short lull, apparently due to political\n      causes. See Mosheim, _Eccles. Hist._ (edited by Soames), vol. i. pp.\n      286-287.\n\n  906 Eusebius.\n\n  907 See two passages, which Gibbon justly calls remarkable. (_H. E._\n      viii. 2; _Martyrs of Palest._ ch. xii.)\n\n  908 There is one instance of a wholesale massacre which appears to rest\n      on good authority. Eusebius asserts that, during the Diocletian\n      persecution, a village in Phrygia, the name of which he does not\n      mention, being inhabited entirely by Christians who refused to\n      sacrifice, was attacked and burnt with all that were in it by the\n      Pagan soldiery. Lactantius (_Inst. Div._ v. 11) confines the\n      conflagration to a church in which the entire population was burnt;\n      and an early Latin translation of Eusebius states that the people\n      were first summoned to withdraw, but refused to do so. Gibbon (ch.\n      xvi.) thinks that this tragedy took place when the decree of\n      Diocletian ordered the destruction of the churches.\n\n  909 Mariana (_De Rebus Hispani\u00e6_, xxiv. 17). Llorente thought this\n      number perished in the single year 1482; but the expressions of\n      Mariana, though he speaks of \u201cthis beginning,\u201d do not necessarily\n      imply this restriction. Besides these martyrs, 17,000 persons in\n      Spain recanted, and endured punishments less than death, while great\n      numbers fled. There does not appear to have been, in this case,\n      either the provocation or the political danger which stimulated the\n      Diocletian persecution.\n\n  910 This is according to the calculation of Sarpi. Grotius estimates the\n      victims at 100,000.\u2014Gibbon, ch. xvi.\n\n  911 See some curious information on this in Ticknor\u2019s _Hist. of Spanish\n      Literature_ (3rd American edition), vol. iii. pp. 236-237.\n\n  912 This was the case in the persecutions at Lyons and Smyrna, under\n      Marcus Aurelius. In the Diocletian persecution at Alexandria the\n      populace were allowed to torture the Christians as they pleased.\n      (_Eusebius_, viii. 10.)","title":"History of European Morals From Augustus to Charlemagne (Vol. 1 of 2)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":169172}