FOOTNOTES:

For most trivial offences of all sorts, extreme punishment was meted out. Mutilation was often inflicted merely for the killing of game belonging to the King's forests, and though the Forest Charter of Henry III. provided that no one should, in future, lose life or limb for the sake of the King's deer, the penalty does not seem to have gone out of use at this period, for other offences. In the reign of Edward III., a tailor was sentenced, for brawling in court, to imprisonment in the Tower of London for life and the loss of his right hand; "and the rolls of Gaol Delivery of this period show conclusively that the ordinary punishments were hanging, the pillory, and the tumbrel or dung-cart."[249]Late in the reign of Henry VIII., an act was passed condemning any person who struck another so that blood was drawn, within the limits of the King's house, to the loss of his right hand. The pillory was in use up to the reign of Queen Victoria; "it could be applied to perjurers and suborners of perjury until the year 1837. It was even applied to women for no greater crime than fortune-telling, late in the eighteenth century."[250]"Of the other punishments associated with the old spirit of violence, and inflicted in public, the chief was whipping. It was commonly awarded to men guilty of petty thefts.... Instances in which women were whipped were by no means uncommon at the very end of the eighteenth century." Until 1808, pocket-picking, until 1811, stealing from bleaching-grounds, were punished with death. In 1813, 1816, and 1818, a bill was introduced to abolish capital punishment for a theft of five shillings from shops; but it was defeated in the House of Lords. In 1820, the amount necessary to the death-sentence was raised to £15. Until 1832, horse, cattle, and sheep stealing, theft from a dwelling-house, and forgery, were capital offences. In 1833, house-breaking; in 1834, returning from transportation before expiration of the sentence; and, in 1835, sacrilege and letter-stealing ceased to be punished with death. But it was not until 1861 that hanging was limited by law to cases of murder and treason.[251]

The worst element of the punishment by pillory or in any manner in public did not lie so much in the punishment itself, as in the violence of the mob, which appears to have been regarded as a legitimate part of the ceremony, and against which the criminal seldom received any protection. Sometimes, the man or woman sentenced to the pillory for a petty offence died of stoning at the hands of the onlookers; and Pike writes of the burning of a woman in 1721, for coining: "Her last wish was that she might say a prayer in peace. But the mob which had come out to take its ease and its pleasure had no mind to sacrifice its rights for the comfort of a criminal. A woman at the stake was a good butt for filthy missiles and ribald jests; the yelling rabble would not permit the poor wretch to collect her thoughts, or to hear her own words, and instead of sympathy they gave her stones. When the fire was kindled, even the consuming flames must have seemed less cruel than the men and women standing around."[252]

We all know the condition in which Howard found the prisons of his day; and if we possess strong powers of imagination, we may perchance be able partly to conceive what must have been their state in days when the people knew but very little of what passed within prison-walls, and the keepers wielded an almost absolute power over the prisoners. If the abuses which were common even two centuries ago were to occur in only a few instances to-day, the whole English nation would flame with indignation. In the fourteenth century, jail-breaking was frequent in cases where the prisoner could afford to pay for his escape; judges were often bribed; a "clerk" who was delivered over to the bishop before or after sentence, according to the Benefit of Clergy, could still be acquitted by the bishop in case the requisite number of compurgators were found to swear to belief in his innocence; and, moreover, clerks who had been convicted could not afterwards be tried for any offence committed before their conviction. On the other hand, if a woman attempted to obtain sentence against the murderer of a relative, she had not only to fear the revenge of the man's allies, who seem to have had things very much their own way; but in case courage deserted her at the last, and she failed to appear against the accused, she was "waived" or outlawed; again it may be remarked that the laws ofEngland did not favor women.[253]Writs were forged, juries were packed, judges, justices, and sheriffs bribed. In the reign of James I., the young countess of Essex, who, having fallen in love with Lord Rochester during the absence of her husband, had obtained a divorce to marry him, became angry with a friend of her lover who counselled him against the marriage, caused him to be imprisoned in the Tower, had the Lieutenant and under-keeper of the Tower replaced by friends of hers, and through the aid of these administered poison to him. The countess and her husband were arrested on charge of causing the death, and the former pleaded, the latter was proved, guilty. Yet the two were pardoned,though some of their accomplices were executed.[254]

It is impossible that such customs should exist, in legal relations, in connection with great justice and sympathy in other relations. Some allowance may be made for idiosyncrasy, for individual and national peculiarities; it is possible that a bloody-minded and cruel ruler may find pleasure in petting pigeons, but his pleasure will be likely to be rather of an egoistic order, and his apparent kindness easily turned to cruelty if anger comes upon him. So, too, the cruel potentate may prove a kind husband and friend, as long as his own interests coincide, and do not conflict, with those of his friends or his family. But the man who is consistently treacherous and unfeeling in any one relation will not, as a rule, show consideration and tenderness in other relations, except in so far as these other relations subserve his own ends of gain or vanity; the point where they part company with such ends is the point where he will resort to another mode of action. The same is true of nations. Accordingly, we find brigandage and open robbery common even down to the end of the last century, and not only on the part of the poorer classes, or rather not so much on their part as on that of princes, nobles, and even the clergy; we find pirating and wreckage common on the sea; we find intrigue upon intrigue at court, nobles and members of the royal family continually plotting each other's murder, but nevertheless escaping punishment and received with adulation; we find the much-praised heroes of the Crusades devasting the lands through which they passed, violating wives and daughters of their hosts, and deserting to the enemy for bribes; we find wholesale massacres of unoffendingJews; we find perjury a profession, station an excuse for nearly every crime, religion a cloak for extortion and vice, and oppression of the poor and lowly universal. And yet we weep over modern deterioration!

We forget, when we read—perhaps with an exclamation that man is as much a savage as ever—how the onlookers at the burning of the Shanghai made no effort to save lives but only to secure spoil, that it is only a short time since such scenes must have been common enough on all the shores of Europe; we forget, when we shudder with horror at an exceptional case of unjust or brutal punishment on the borders of our civilization, that it is not long since torture and mutilation, barbarities of every sort, were practised among the foremost nations of the world, and for the most trivial offences. Nor do we always remember, when we grow indignant at the hard case of our poor, that there was a time when the excess of indigent population was prevented only by famines and pestilences which killed their thousands upon thousands, and of which we very seldom see the like in modern times; we forget that there was a time when the desperate rising of the continental peasantry against the bitter oppression of the landowners drew from even the reformer Luther the exclamation that the revolters ought to be throttled collectively. I have no intention to underrate present evils or to excuse them by past ones. I see no reason for believing that the present age should rest upon its laurels; on the contrary, I believe that we are only at the beginning of civilization; but I see no need for denying past evolution in order to make this assertion. Starvation is not easier to a man to-day, because it is proved to him that many more men died of hunger in the past than die of it in the present century. But just for this reason, I fail to understand why there should be so much effort expended by certain reformers in the attempt to disprove what history and observation yet so plainly show,—namely, that the condition of the masses at present, taken for all in all, is much better than it has ever been before; that misery is not so extreme or proportionately so widely spread; that the worst sorts of crime are decreasing; that justice is more general, and that sympathy is warmer, than in any previous age. It is true that we have new methods of exploiting the poor; but we need to consider how our ancestors would have used those opportunities had they possessedthem; and we need also to remember, with regard to a particular form of evil, that some time is necessary for society as a whole to grow to a comprehension of its increase and importance, and to reach unanimity of opinion as to action for its removal. As forms of evil change, some one particular form may increase for a time, swallowing up in itself, as the larger wave accumulates several small ones, various other forms, until the slowly gathered resistance of public opinion brings the reaction.

We may gather valuable evidence as to our progress, even in comparison with recent times, by reference to our artistic literature. True, the great writers have often been far ahead of their times. But if we regard the average, we shall soon perceive the signs to which I refer. The stilted mannerisms of the ancient novel mark the absence of democratic feeling, and witness to the less general diffusion of true kindness, which, wherever it appears, tends to simplicity, having no need of mannerisms. Nothing, too, is more indicative of our advancement than the change in conceptions of humor; for to know what a nation laughs about is to know what are its ideals and shortcomings. Earlier humor is often mere vulgarity or brutality, or a mixture of the two; obscenity, vice, and the heartless torture of the weak and helpless are its favorite themes, and appear in the characters of its heroes and ideals. The truthfulness of Victor Hugo's description of earlier British "fun," in his "L'Homme qui rit," is borne witness to by English literature.

All modern literature marks the progress of the democratic idea. Our history and our art are full of the people. The very unrest and dissatisfaction of the time are signs of a more general and a better education, an increase of sympathy in degree and extent, and, I believe, of better nourishment and a more energetic physique. The higher ideals which were once the property of the few are become the property of the many. Our institutions are grown more democratic and humane. We have our free hospitals and dispensaries, our soup-kitchens and cheap lodging-houses, our asylums for the deaf, the dumb, the blind, old people and orphans, the weak and afflicted of all kinds, our guilds, "Settlements," and "Open-air" charities, our crêches, our refuges and reformatories, our societies for the Preventionof Cruelty to Children and to Animals, our "Open Doors," and "Midnight Missions," our trade and industrial schools, and our free schools and scholarships and free libraries. In times of famine, disease, and disaster, we band together to aid, and funds for the distressed pour in from every side, and not only from people of the nation to which the sufferers belong, but often also from those of distant parts of the world. Fancy the Greeks subscribing to a fund in aid of cholera-stricken barbarians; imagine the Romans, even, clubbing together, in every part of the world to which they had wandered, to succour the sufferers by a Johnstown flood; or conceive of the wealthy classes of the Middle Ages furnishing fires and food as did the Parisians during the unusual winter cold of 1890-91!

Not only has sympathy become more wildly diffused within the state; it has spread outside it also. National narrowness is slowly disappearing. The federation of the states of Europe and of the civilized world is no longer looked upon as a mad-man's fancy but as a sober possibility or even a probability. It is now agreed that war between the English-speaking nations of the earth,—between England and her colonies, or England and the United States, is very nearly, if not quite, an impossibility. The union of three of the most powerful nations of Europe, not for war but for peace, is assuredly of great political importance in itself; but of even more importance in the influence insensibly exerted by its continuance upon the opinions of the world. The masses of the people themselves are becoming more and more cosmopolitan, and we have an ever-increasing number of international unions and congresses, political, scientific, artistic, and ethical.

On the whole, it is, perhaps, as much a lack of imagination as anything which makes us fall into the mistake of underestimating our own age and overestimating all others. The crimes and abuses far away in times different from our own are difficult to conceive, and stir our blood even less than those distant in space; the sufferings of the Middle Ages, or even of one or two centuries ago, are more difficult to realize and move us less than a famine or flood in China or a murder in the heart of Africa. The things immediately before our eyes affect us most; and it is well, for many reasons, that this is so. Nevertheless, idealization of the past is evil in its consequences. For, if presentprogress is to some men an excuse for easy-going inactivity, the extent of existing evil is even more often an excuse for the same selfish course.

Man has had, in all periods, the tendency, in his discontent with the present, to invest with ideal attributes of every sort some past period in which the special evils he deplores did not, perhaps, exist; the dissatisfied of all times have imagined a golden age somewhere in the past. The old, who look on the innovations of a younger generation with distrust, and are likely to mistake, in remembrance, the gold of their own life's morning for an outer radiance independent of their youth, add to our delusion; while the young confuse their increasing knowledge of the evil of the world with an increase of the evil itself. But the more science progresses, and the greater our acquaintance with the facts of history becomes, the more these delusions tend to disappear. The much-praised simplicity of our ancestors was, in truth, a half-savagery, where the higher forms of justice were not practised, that finer tact and consideration which makes life best worth living was unknown, and many of the faults which we most deplore in our own day were considered rather virtues than otherwise. It is a moral pity that poets and philosophers have lent the beauty of their verse and the dignity of their eloquence to the idealization of the past. Indeed,

"I do distrust the poet who discernsNo character or glory in his times,And trundles back his soul five hundred years,Past moat and drawbridge, into a castle-court,To sing—oh, not of lizard or of toadAlive i' the ditch there,—'twere excusable,But of some black chief, half knight, half sheep-lifter,Some beauteous dame, half chattel and half queen,As dead as must be, for the greater part,The poems made on their chivalric bones."[255]

It is an especial pity that the reformer should ever devote his effort to the upholding of the old idea of the inferiority of the present to the past. Not in the past, but in the future, lies the Golden Age of man.

FOOTNOTES:[183]"The Origin of Civilization," pp. 397, 398.[184]Ibid. pp. 402, 403.[185]Ibid. p. 398.[186]Ibid. p. 407.[187]See, as above, pp. 368, 369.[188]Ibid. p. 371.[189]Ibid. p. 69.[190]Ibid. p. 72.[191]Ibid. pp. 112, 113.[192]See, as above, p. 405.[193]See Lubbock, "Prehistoric Times," also especially Chaps. III. and IV. of "The Origin of Civilization."[194]Cause or effect, which? Mexico is not a country poor in animal life.[195]"The Origin of Civilization," pp. 372, 373.[196]See "The Origin of Civilization," p. 396.[197]Ibid. p. 398.[198]Ibid. p. 371.[199]"Social Life in Greece," 3d ed. p. 272.[200]"The Science of Ethics," p. 237.[201]"Social Life in Greece," p. 243et seq.[202]"Lectures on Primitive Civilization," p. 219et seq.[203]Mahaffy: "Three Epochs in the Social Development of the Ancient Greeks," pp. 31, 32.[204]"Social Life in Greece," p. 238.[205]"Social Life in Greece," p. 234et seq.[206]Ibid. p. 239et seq.The italics are mine.[207]"Social Life in Greece," p. 272et seq.[208]"Social Life in Greece," p. 97et seq.[209]Ibid. p. 157.[210]"Social Life in Greece," p. 160et seq.[211]Ibid. p. 162et seq.[212]"Les Institutions de la Grèce," p. 47et seq.[213]Lecky, "History of European Morals," I. p. 398.[214]Ibid. p. 299et seq.[215]Lecky, "History of European Morals," II. p. 31.[216]"The Origin of Civilization," p. 372.[217]"History of European Morals," I. p. 285.[218]"History of European Morals," I. p. 286et seq.[219]Ibid. p. 276.[220]Ibid. p. 301.[221]"History of European Morals," I. p. 287et seq.[222]Ibid. p. 280et seq.[223]"History of European Morals," I. p. 287.[224]"History of European Morals," I. p. 302et seq.[225]Ibid. p. 236.[226]Compare, however, "History of European Morals," I. p. 263: "Ionian slaves of a surpassing beauty, Alexandrian slaves, famous for their subtle skill in stimulating the jaded senses of the confirmed and sated libertine, became the ornaments of every patrician house, the companions and instructors of the young.... The slave population was itself a hotbed of vice, and it contaminated all with which it came in contact."[227]"History of European Morals," I. p. 303et seq.The italics are mine.[228]L. O. Pike, "Crime in England," I. p. 20.[229]"History of European Morals," II. p. 299.[230]L. O. Pike, "A History of Crime in England," I. pp. 51, 344et seq.; II. pp. 138, 176, 177, 287, 379et seq.[231]Ibid. II. pp. 81, 82.[232]Ibid. I. p. 226; II. pp. 85, 86, 174et seq., 324et seq.[233]Ibid. I. pp. 168, 169.[234]"History of Crime," I. p. 50.[235]Ibid. p. 51.[236]"History of Crime," I. p. 52et seq.[237]Ibid. I. pp. 204, 210.[238]Ibid. I. p. 210et seq.[239]Ibid. II. p. 85.[240]Ibid. II. pp. 87-89.[241]Ibid. II. p. 346.[242]Ibid. II. p. 283.[243]"History of Crime," II. pp. 162, 163.[244]Ibid. II. p. 284.[245]Ibid. I. p. 52et seq., p. 146et seq.[246]Ibid. I. p. 297et seq.[247]Ibid I. p. 89et seq.[248]"History of Crime," II. p. 398et seq.[249]Ibid. I. p. 213.[250]Ibid. II. pp. 82, 83, 377et seq.[251]Ibid. II. p. 450et seq.[252]See as above, II. p. 288.[253]As above, I. p. 270et seq.[254]Ibid. II. p. 145et seq.[255]Mrs. Browning, "Aurora Leigh."

[183]"The Origin of Civilization," pp. 397, 398.

[184]Ibid. pp. 402, 403.

[185]Ibid. p. 398.

[186]Ibid. p. 407.

[187]See, as above, pp. 368, 369.

[188]Ibid. p. 371.

[189]Ibid. p. 69.

[190]Ibid. p. 72.

[191]Ibid. pp. 112, 113.

[192]See, as above, p. 405.

[193]See Lubbock, "Prehistoric Times," also especially Chaps. III. and IV. of "The Origin of Civilization."

[194]Cause or effect, which? Mexico is not a country poor in animal life.

[195]"The Origin of Civilization," pp. 372, 373.

[196]See "The Origin of Civilization," p. 396.

[197]Ibid. p. 398.

[198]Ibid. p. 371.

[199]"Social Life in Greece," 3d ed. p. 272.

[200]"The Science of Ethics," p. 237.

[201]"Social Life in Greece," p. 243et seq.

[202]"Lectures on Primitive Civilization," p. 219et seq.

[203]Mahaffy: "Three Epochs in the Social Development of the Ancient Greeks," pp. 31, 32.

[204]"Social Life in Greece," p. 238.

[205]"Social Life in Greece," p. 234et seq.

[206]Ibid. p. 239et seq.The italics are mine.

[207]"Social Life in Greece," p. 272et seq.

[208]"Social Life in Greece," p. 97et seq.

[209]Ibid. p. 157.

[210]"Social Life in Greece," p. 160et seq.

[211]Ibid. p. 162et seq.

[212]"Les Institutions de la Grèce," p. 47et seq.

[213]Lecky, "History of European Morals," I. p. 398.

[214]Ibid. p. 299et seq.

[215]Lecky, "History of European Morals," II. p. 31.

[216]"The Origin of Civilization," p. 372.

[217]"History of European Morals," I. p. 285.

[218]"History of European Morals," I. p. 286et seq.

[219]Ibid. p. 276.

[220]Ibid. p. 301.

[221]"History of European Morals," I. p. 287et seq.

[222]Ibid. p. 280et seq.

[223]"History of European Morals," I. p. 287.

[224]"History of European Morals," I. p. 302et seq.

[225]Ibid. p. 236.

[226]Compare, however, "History of European Morals," I. p. 263: "Ionian slaves of a surpassing beauty, Alexandrian slaves, famous for their subtle skill in stimulating the jaded senses of the confirmed and sated libertine, became the ornaments of every patrician house, the companions and instructors of the young.... The slave population was itself a hotbed of vice, and it contaminated all with which it came in contact."

[227]"History of European Morals," I. p. 303et seq.The italics are mine.

[228]L. O. Pike, "Crime in England," I. p. 20.

[229]"History of European Morals," II. p. 299.

[230]L. O. Pike, "A History of Crime in England," I. pp. 51, 344et seq.; II. pp. 138, 176, 177, 287, 379et seq.

[231]Ibid. II. pp. 81, 82.

[232]Ibid. I. p. 226; II. pp. 85, 86, 174et seq., 324et seq.

[233]Ibid. I. pp. 168, 169.

[234]"History of Crime," I. p. 50.

[235]Ibid. p. 51.

[236]"History of Crime," I. p. 52et seq.

[237]Ibid. I. pp. 204, 210.

[238]Ibid. I. p. 210et seq.

[239]Ibid. II. p. 85.

[240]Ibid. II. pp. 87-89.

[241]Ibid. II. p. 346.

[242]Ibid. II. p. 283.

[243]"History of Crime," II. pp. 162, 163.

[244]Ibid. II. p. 284.

[245]Ibid. I. p. 52et seq., p. 146et seq.

[246]Ibid. I. p. 297et seq.

[247]Ibid I. p. 89et seq.

[248]"History of Crime," II. p. 398et seq.

[249]Ibid. I. p. 213.

[250]Ibid. II. pp. 82, 83, 377et seq.

[251]Ibid. II. p. 450et seq.

[252]See as above, II. p. 288.

[253]As above, I. p. 270et seq.

[254]Ibid. II. p. 145et seq.

[255]Mrs. Browning, "Aurora Leigh."

In Professor Alexander's statement that "the good man of former days was as good as the good man of to-day,"[256]the standard applied to the two cases compared is not the same; the comparison is not a direct one between the two men, according to some common rule, but resembles a mathematical statement of proportion, or comparison of ratios; the man named good according to the standard of one age stands to the social conditions of that age as the man named good by the standard of a later age to the social conditions of his age. The implication of this double standard is, however, easily overlooked, so that the statement stands in danger of the reproach of misleading as a begging of the question; in "the good man of former days," the moral verdict is already delivered. A question of moral expediency arises here. How are we to define "the good man of former days"? Shall we declare, for instance, that that cannibal who fulfilled the ideal of pity in his society by sparing his conquered foe to abject and miserable slavery, instead of cooking him for dinner, was good, and as good as the man of highest benevolence of the present day? Or suppose an Australian savage who varies the tribal custom of wooing by carefully carrying home his victim after reducing her to unconsciousness, instead of dragging her over the ground at risk of life and limb, thus fulfilling a high tribal ideal; shall we compare such a man with lovers like Mill or Browning and pronounce him as good as the latter? Or, to take less extreme cases, shall we compare the Spartan of one period, with his ideal of successful theft, with a Socrates or a Bruno dying for sake of what they believed to be the truth, and pronounce one no better than the other? No one denies the right of the individual to fix the significance of his own terms, provided he adheres to this significance consistently; but mankindthinks slowly and painfully, and the double purpose of language, in the communication of thought to others and the registration of it as a stepping-stone to our own further reasoning, is likely to be frustrated by a too peculiar use of terms. In Ethics, this question of expediency takes on a moral aspect; and Alexander's definition of absolute right and wrong as action in accordance with, or opposition to, a standard fixed by the age and nation is likely to lead to moral as well as intellectual confusion—to the excuse of wrong-doing because of circumstances, on the one hand, and the dogmatic assertion of infallibility on the other, or at least to the confusion of the ideal standard with the easy-going standard of the average man of his age.

But it is true that this criticism is scarcely conclusive alone. For the definitions criticised are on a line with the idea of progress as at each moment establishing the equilibrium of the society, and fulfil the demand for self-consistency. A criticism of the use, in ethical theory, of a continually changing standard of moral judgment, must concern the more fundamental idea of a continually established equilibrium.

To the practical considerations of the possible confusion of the ideal with the average standard through Alexander's idea of the judgment of an age by its own standard, it might be objected that the moral standard implied in his theory is not at all the average standard, but the standard as represented by the ideal in the mind of the good man of his age.[257]

To this may be answered that he whom we regard as the good man of his age is by no means necessarily in harmony with his age, as is proved by the persecution that many good men endure; and the statement that the good man is not in harmony with his age means that he does not represent the character of his society as a whole, and cannot, therefore, be said to express an attained equilibrium of the society. His sentiments and ideal are not the sentiments and ideal of the society as a whole considered as an adjustment of sentiments and ideals. If it be replied, to this, that the good men of their age who undergo persecution must be regarded, according to Alexander's theory, as only prospectively good,—as representing an ideal that has not yet been proved to be the victorious variety,[258]then we are driven to return to theconclusion that, by the good man of his age who represents the social equilibrium, Alexander designates, not the man who leads the moral van, or he who plans an advance, but he who is carried on by it, the man who represents the preponderating mass of opinion, the ideal of the majority or the average ideal; and the practical criticisms above made hold good. Whatever may be said of our judgment of a past age by present standards, the standard by which we judge present action is not at all the average standard, but the highest moral ideal we can discover; and in this fact lies the whole significance of Ethics.

Or there is another form in which Alexander combines his idea of the good man and that of a social equilibrium. According to this interpretation, the equilibrium the good man represents is not an actually attained equilibrium, but merely one that would be secured were his ideal universally carried out,—an equilibrium realized only in so far as men are good.[259]In this case, indeed, the ideal may be rescued from the reproach of representing only the average, easy-going morality; but, at the same time, all the remarks that make present morality absolute because it represents and maintains a present social equilibrium, and the argument in a line with such remarks that all maintenance of existence means adjustment to the conditions, or equilibrium, become inapplicable. It might be contended that the whole dilemma is avoided by Alexander in the assertion that wickedness has but little share in the life of society[260]—that is, that goodness prevails; but such a statement may be disputed, except as morality is judged by the average standard; and, in this case, the argument begs the question, and the old problem recurs. It may further be added that the action of the good man in any other sense cannot represent the course that would be followed by every man, were all men good like himself, for his action takes into consideration the fact that all men are not good like himself and is a compromise with inideal conditions.

There is, in fact, and has been up to the present time, no "full" equilibrium of any society as a whole, and certainly no absolute equilibrium such as must coexist with an absolute right, which would be its expression. Du Prel, to illustrate his conception of the evolution of the systems of the heavens, imagines a groupof dancers, each of whom sets out to dance a figure of her own without reference to the movements of the others; and he points out that if, in all cases of collision, the colliding parties either withdraw from the group or else move from this point together, a harmony of movement must finally be attained.[261]We may conceive of momentary equilibrium of small portions of a society, just as, in the case of such a group of dancers, we may conceive of any moment as possibly representing an absence of collision in some one part of the company, although, in other parts, many collisions are taking place. But there is, at present, no general equilibrium of ideals, no common ideal for any society as a whole, but, on the contrary, a mass of conflicting ideals continually at war with one another; although, of course, there may be calculated an average ideal made up from all extremes, and there may be discerned a preponderating ideal in smaller portions of a society that form a body by themselves. The isolation of such portions is, however, only relative, and any equilibrium that can be spoken of as attained by them is most imperfect. The "good man," in so far as we regard his goodness as inherited, may be said to represent an equilibrium; but it is only the equilibrium of some one favored line of descent, and not an absolute, but a relative, equilibrium. In so far as we regard the "good man's" goodness as the further result of especial association with good men, it may be, to a large extent, in harmony with their ideals, and may hence represent a certain equilibrium among men who preserve themselves from intimacy with individuals of low ideals or only average morality, thus forming a partly isolated body; but this equilibrium, again, is only a relative equilibrium, just as the isolation of the group is only partial. If our definition of morality is progressive and not statical, the good man must be he who leads the advance. But such a man is not representative of his society as a whole.

Alexander regards the infliction of incidental pains as of little consequence for the absolute rightness of conduct. But the necessity of these pains has a reactive influence on character. That, in order to do the work which I can do best and which, therefore, I ought to do for society, I must pass many beggars in the street without inquiry into their cases, and much misery of all sorts without materially lessening it, has a certain detrimentalresult to myself. All pain, the sight of which is endured without the taking of active measures for its alleviation, vitiates the sympathies; and, on the other hand, a certain hardness of heart is necessary to the endurance of mere existence, at the present time; a certain selfishness to the enjoyment even of a life spent in moral effort; for perfect sympathy would make life unbearable in sight and hearing of the suffering of many of our fellow-creatures. The need for self-defence has been felt at all stages of the world's progress—in olden times for self-defence of a brutal sort, in modern days for a less and less brutal self-defence; such self-defence is at present imperative, lest the yielding to one person result not only in a lack of fulfilment of our own duties to others than the one, but also in the strengthening, in that one, of a selfishness and dogmatism which may issue in further evil to others. And yet all resistance, where and in so far as carried out, vitiates temper and benevolence.

Alexander's position is positivistic in that it aims not to go beyond the facts; and this position might seem to lead naturally to the judgment of each age by a standard possible to the individuals of that age, that is, existent, in some form, in the society judged; and it might seem to lead, also, to the assertion of an absolute right where the existence of wrong is unfelt. But to this might be answered that, as soon as the higher standard does exist, the wrong may be judged by it; and that the judgment of a right as yet including elements of wrong implies the existence of another and higher standard as one of the facts. If Du Prel's company of dancers were automata, incapable of forecasting collisions, we might regard a momentary absence of collision in some one part of the company, from the standpoint of the automata concerned, as absolute equilibrium, since our judgment would have no regard to the rest of the company or the next move of the figures at present in equilibrium. But human beings are not automata, and the theory which regards the moral evolution from the standpoint of the ideals actually existent in society must take into consideration the actual realization which enters into the practical ideals of a large part of society, of the contrast of those ideals with a conceived higher standard at present impracticable. It is true that the consciousness of past ages, not comprehending in so great a degree the complexity of human interests, or lookingso far into the future to distant results as does present mankind, had not so strong a sense of this contrast. But the contrast has arisen, was vaguely conceived even in far-distant times, and has continually grown more definite and pronounced in human thought. So far from its being true, as Professor Alexander conceives, that conscience always asserts the possibility of an absolutely right course,[262]it may be said that, although doubtless the mind always conceives, amongst the courses open to choice, some best course, there is a growing realization of the evil to conduct and character, of self and others, involved in any course possible under present conditions. The assertion of an absolute right, with an exact boundary-line dividing it from wrong, belongs to past Ethics; the appreciation of present evil doubtless differs in degree in different persons; but it is increasing both in extent and in intent, and is the explanation of the tendency to believe the present age worse than all past ages. It is not the sign of growing evil, but is, on the contrary, a part of a growing good; nevertheless, it registers the existence of present evil. There are few men of the present date, excepting the very young and exceptionally healthy and happy, who would agree with Alexander, that "it is ridiculous to suppose that wickedness occupies a considerable space in the life of a society."

Professor Alexander himself acknowledges the progress of society towards a state of good that shall be good not for a part of the human race merely but for the whole; and he recognizes also the fact that this extension of the ideal to the whole race means a progress in intent also. Such an ultimate state is certainly not ultimate in the sense that it is eternal; but it may be considered permanent in the same sense as the equilibrium of the solar system is permanent—in the sense that it remains practically the same for a period long to human thought. It expresses a perfect, though not an absolute, equilibrium. As such, it does not involve absolute happiness any more than absolute preservation of existence, immortality: it implies only the reduction of pain to a minimum through increasing wisdom and sympathy; through the endeavor, on the one hand, of a far-seeing and sympathetic society to protect the individual from disappointment, and through such increase, on the other, of the ethical pleasures that what Alexander terms "incidental pains" become inappreciable by contrast.

The evolution of human society is not an evolution of one state or country alone but of the habitable globe; a condition of full equilibrium can be reached only when, in one way or another, all countries are gathered into the circle of civilization and sympathy. Until this happens, the isolation of single societies must be repeatedly broken in upon and the process of equilibration disturbed by the introduction of new elements to which adjustment must take place; the new adjustment being in the sense of progress towards a higher system of equilibrium, that is, one of more elements, and the whole process constituting a continual progress in the direction of a full stability of Life upon the earth. While despotisms exist to pour into other, freer countries their hunted and miserable subjects, unused to the responsibilities of self-government, and often as unfit for peace as is the dog who has been always chained and tormented, democracy must feel the evils of tyranny even in her own system. While uncivilized, or mentally, morally, and physically degraded human beings exist in one country, men in other parts of the world are not secure from contact either directly with these lowest orders, or, at least, with those who have been rendered less honorable or more callous to suffering by their influence or habituation to their suffering. And while war rouses hatred, and hatred results in war, there will also be, in societies, internal fluctuations, jealousies, hatreds. Lack of sympathy, violence, or indifference to suffering in one respect or direction is likely to be accompanied by lack of sympathy, violence, indifference, in other respects: while, again, violence is likely to beget violence, indifference indifference, between individuals, classes, parties, or nations. Different degrees of progress may be visible in different countries; but the more facilities of communication increase, the more inevitable it will become that the evils existing in any one nation will affect all, as also that the progress of any one nation will affect all; in other words, progress must tend, more and more, to equalization in all countries. Fechner's ideas of the Tendency to Stability thus explain the loss of Greek and Roman civilization, as well as the insoluble mystery which Wallace finds in the fact of the attainment of greatness among earlier peoples, there being "no agency at work, then or now,[263]calculated to do more than weed out the lower types."[264]

Increasing sympathy is a continual accompaniment of the increasingly close relations of men to each other through the gradual peopling of all parts of the earth, but especially through the increasing facilities of communication by which the distant is brought into contact with us; but the sympathy is of gradual growth, and the continual renewal of the struggle for existence induces renewed evils, so that it might seem, at first glance, as if the evil must continue indefinitely and undiminished, only changing its form. As long as no absolute equilibrium has been attained, doubtless evil of some sort must exist; change is inevitably accompanied by disadvantages as well as advantages, everywhere. But several facts are to be noticed. First: The statement which has often been made, that the severity of the struggle for existence is increased in the social state and grows with the growth of society, is erroneous. That is to say, more is doubtless continually demanded of the individual, but it is no abstract "principle" or "law" outside man which makes this demand: it is the increased power of the average of society which makes it; or, that is, the increased requirements of the age are met with increased capacity, and this would still remain true if we reckoned capacity as merely dependent upon the inheritance of knowledge and implements. Coöperation increases resources; and the average length of life is shown to increase with the progress of civilization. There is a lagging minority who suffer, for one reason or another, in the advance; these represent the inherently inferior types, or the types which suffer temporarily from outer disadvantage. The evils of competition in human society are not greater, they are simply more evident to human beings than the evils elsewhere in nature. The tragedies of the woods are bloody but short; death puts a speedy end to sufferings, and the earth quickly hides the victims. In society, on the other hand, coöperation preserves not only the aged and feeble, the deformed and idiotic, of the more privileged classes; it even suffices to enable the most miserable to drag out a forlorn existence somewhat longer. It forbids the mother who finds her child a burden simply to leave it by the roadside as the savage mother does, and it will give a penny or two against starvation where it will not bestow enough for comfort. This prolongation of suffering is thus the sign of an increased but not yet sufficient sympathy; in other words, evil not only changes its form with socialevolution; it also gradually loses its force. To suppose, indeed, that renewed progress must always be attended with as great evils as to-day attend it, is to make the erroneous supposition that character has no constancy, and the sympathy for one's fellow-men gained in one relation will wholly fail to act in others.

Again, it might possibly be thought that increase in density of population, even as condition of the closer contact necessary to increase of sympathy, must go onad infinitum, with ever-increasing, or at least ever-renewed, misery, until the individual be left with barely standing-room; indeed, the picture of such adenouementhas occasionally been drawn. But it is to be remembered that the conditions of mutual comprehension, dependence, and sympathy, come to lie, in later social stages, less and less in mere density of population and more and more in those many devices of modern life which we have termed means of communication. The increase of the human species must tend, in time, to self-correction; the only alternative is the extinction of the race through growing unhealthfulness of conditions. But this alternative is an impossibility; the human species cannot be annihilated as a whole except through some catastrophic event which interferes with the present course of evolution by the destruction of the earth—or through that final gradual decay which must accompany the earth's decline in power of nourishment. From internal causes we cannot expect the species to perish; for again in this case it is impossible that a struggle should be continued until the last individuals are destroyed. Indeed, the idea of destruction through insanitary crowding gives us at once a contradiction of the supposition of limitless increase, and a partial solution of the question. But the later and higher solution of the question is another. The fittest will survive; and the fittest will be those who perceive the evils of overcrowding and take active measures to avoid it. The fittest will be those who perceive that they are acting for the good of their children, and that of society as a whole, if they do not bring into the world more offspring than they can furnish with a healthy constitution, good moral training, and a sufficient education for self-support and comfort under conditions of normal labor. The term "health" is not an absolute one; but if we once suppose a start made in the direction of the decrease of pressure, we must suppose, other things being equal, that those lines of descent andparts of society in which it arises will be favored in the struggle for existence, and will come to supplant other parts. To suppose that the increase of pressure can go onad infinitumis, indeed, to reckon—if we look at the matter from the purely psychological side—without man's reason. Social development and moral theory have not favored any limitation of progeny as long as population was sparse. But certain facts are beginning to be recognized: (1) that the propagation of their kind by the criminally constituted and by the hopelessly diseased is immoral; (2) that the propagation of offspring to such poverty and ignorance as stunts them physically, and makes their entrance into the criminal or pauper classes a probability, is also immoral; and (3) that duty does not demand of men and women that they shall sacrifice health and happiness, and drag out a miserable, overworked, joyless existence in illy rearing an over-large and probably weakly family. The greatest favor, privilege, and luxury that parents can confer upon children is that of health, and the next greatest is that of healthy parents, neither ill-tempered with care nor morbid and dull with overwork, but alert to perceive and ready to sympathize in all their trials and aspirations, and endowed with sufficient leisure to give some attention to that quite as important duty as child-bearing—the character-training of children. Selfishness is, of course, possible in the direction of limitation of increase as in every other direction, and in this case it must defeat the end to a great extent; but such selfishness must tend to correct itself as sympathy develops and society, in its approval, recognizes and demands more and more what is for the good of all.

The course of our reasoning does not pretend to predict an absolute social equilibrium, which must include the immortality of man on the earth, together with the prevention of every accident and of every disappointment whatsoever. A word has already been said as to the probable necessity of the death of the individual; and with death are given also disease and age and their attendant mental evils. We may suppose, however, under an increased healthfulness of general conditions, an increase of vitality which shall make death, in an ever greater proportion of cases, rather the issue of a gradual failure of the powers than the result of violent illness. That the tendency is in this direction is demonstrated by the gradual increaseof the length of life. A high degree of mental, moral, and physical harmony in human society is no more "wonderful" or inconceivable than the high degree of harmony already attained in the movements of our own solar system. On the one hand, social progress means the attainment of results which call less and less for reform; and, on the other hand, we are accustoming ourselves to social change; reforms, the like of which would once have convulsed the world are now accomplished with little inconvenience, and we are able to go forward with a rapidity of which no former age was capable.

We may look at social development from still another point of view, as a process by which the preservation of the individual gradually becomes coördinate with the preservation and welfare of the species. Darwin surmises that the work of the benevolent or intellectually great man for his people may be as important for its welfare and the determination of its conquest in the struggle for existence as is the propagation of offspring. As social organization progresses, and the relations of men become more intimate and complex, all the acts of the individual grow to be of greater and greater significance for his kind, while, reciprocally, the health and happiness of the individual increase in importance for his kind. And thus, from both sides, virtue and health, virtue and happiness, also tend towards coincidence in the individual life, and environment comes more and more to favor the virtuous. Sympathy, which is for the general good in many relations, increases in strength as inward characteristic and acts with more and more certainty and universality, so that the society which has been merciful and helpful in a degree towards many individuals comes to show mercy and helpfulness in a greater degree, and with more uniformity, towards more and more individuals; while, at the same time, the welfare and the happiness of the individual become more and more coördinate with the welfare of society as a whole, and the latter is accordingly more universally sought. This does not necessarily mean that it is sought from motives of self-interest; on the contrary, as society progresses, the individual is more and more moulded to such harmony with its needs that he finds his happiness in seeking its welfare.

The earlier punishments of offenders were extreme and cruel; the majority, in endeavoring to protect itself, had little regard for the individual, as the individual also had little regard forthe welfare of the majority. With social progress, however, the majority become more humane even towards their enemy, the criminal. The checks which the fear of extreme physical punishment alone could impose at an earlier period are gradually succeeded by the checks furnished in the approval and disapproval of society as a whole, and of those to whom the individual is bound by ties of affection and of respect. That is, in the sympathetic feelings themselves a dependence on others is developed which acts as an effectual preventive and stimulus, and must become more and more effectual as society advances and the range of sympathy widens. This increasingly altruistic form of even the checks to evil is taken no account of by the pessimist. As the necessity for severity decreases, severity even in social disapproval must lessen; as the individual comes to yield more readily and promptly to a slight spur, extremer methods will be discarded. Thus fear will be, by degrees, replaced by hope. This development is seen not only in sectarian matters but also in the history of religious thought; nearly every religion has had its heaven and its hell, but with social progress and the broadening of sympathy, the hell falls more and more into disrepute, the motive of heavenly reward being rather emphasized.

As sympathy broadens, we come to feel, not alone pain at the pain of others, but in an increased degree and with regard to ever wider circles, pleasure also in their pleasure. The altruistic pleasure afforded by the relief of pain, as the more necessary to the preservation of existence, has been the earliest developed. A great good in its province, it may contain, nevertheless, an element of vanity that opposes itself to a further evolution. There is no doubt that a certain kind of benevolence would greatly miss the gratification and self-aggrandizement experienced in the relief of poverty and suffering. The higher but not yet so universal capacity is that of rejoicing in others' good and happiness as well as sympathizing in their sorrow. This capacity shows itself as yet chiefly in the more intimate relations of love and friendship. In these, too, the influence of approval and disapproval is powerful, and the pleasure we give a friend in being worthy of his esteem may make our best happiness. Here we have a hint of an increasing union of love for the individual and love for the ideal which must tend to raise friendship itself to the highest plane.

As a result of our considerations, we may deny the truth ofRolph's assertion that the stimulus of want will be forever necessary in order to secure exertion—that is, if by want is meant misery or great pain of any sort; if merely desire is meant, which the anticipation and early accomplishment of satisfaction may prevent from becoming pain, we may admit the statement. In this case, however, the argument which Rolph deduces against the possibility of a final state of social harmony is invalid.

But it is not the intention of our argument to assert that all desires without exception will be fulfilled in any future condition of society. What may be said is that, in an increasing degree, sympathy will endeavor to satisfy the wants of the individual, while, on the other hand, the approval and fellow-feeling of society, and the consciousness of having performed his duty, will come to represent to the individual, in a greater and greater degree, recompense for personal loss. This change of direction in desire and gratification is no weakening of it: it is no more necessarily true that the man of perfect principle is poorer in emotion than the man whose passions lead him to sacrifice his fellow men than it is true that the average man of civilized society is poorer in emotion than the brutal savage. Merely, human evolution is a continual development of higher and more complex emotions, which rise into force on the proper occasion to modify the more primitive ones, or, more accurately speaking, the lower emotions of the savage themselves take on a higher form through organization with later ones.

Spencer, in criticising theories of altruistic morals, endeavors to show that time and energy are lost in the distribution, through others, of the happiness or means of happiness which might with more profit, because a better understanding of need, be sought by the individual himself; and he remarks, that it is a question how much of the happiness which means also vitality the individual may rightly sacrifice to society. But the refusal of individuals to sacrifice anything of personal gratification must lead, under present conditions of desire, to extreme sacrifice on the part of other individuals; so that the principle of the illegitimacy of sacrifice logically contradicts itself. It is not perfectly clear what is meant by a "division and redistribution" of happiness, or the means of happiness, against which Spencer directs his argument. It is probable that the author has in mind, and is especially opposing, a particular school of theorists whose ideaswe will consider later on. Suffice it to say, at this point, that social harmony can never be reached by the stubborn continuance of each in his line of inharmonious conduct, but can only be attained by such gradual moulding of habit and desire that by natural organization individuals will come to be in harmony with each other. It is the history of social evolution that the individual, though always determining what are his own needs, as it is obvious that he can best do, is increasingly aided in satisfying them by coöperation, while he also gives increasing aid in return. Against the list of the advantages of egoism enumerated by Spencer and others, I would muster the advantages of altruism, for by coöperation alone can the individual attain the pleasures which now so often lie beyond his reach; by it alone can society attain a higher plane; and the pleasures of altruism are the highest and the most unfailing. The selfish man will suffer disappointment and loss as well as the benevolent man, and he will lack the refuge of sympathy and of the power to find happiness in the happiness of others. What man who has felt the joys of sympathy would exchange even the hardships it brings for the brutal liberty and unmoved selfishness of the savage! what man who has known the joys of the higher, the more unselfish love, would exchange them for the ungoverned and quickly-palling pleasures of the profligate! These joys first lend life worth and meaning; through association and altruism, coöperation in action and feeling, man first becomes a power in the world. Yet the man who is capable of the higher sympathy is incapable of a selfish calculation of its personal advantages to him.

Wundt has an objection to Evolutional Ethics as it is understood by this treatise, on the score of the assumptions with regard to moral inheritance involved. "How, out of tendencies stored up in the nervous system, moral conceptions arise, is, and remains, a mystery," he says.[265]The problem is nothing more or less than that of the connection of brain-function and psychical process, in inheritance; and we may say again that we no more perceive the necessity of explaining the "how" of this before accepting the evident facts, than we see the necessity of explaining, in the same sense, the connection between light and heat, or between the seen vibrations and the heard note. Moreover, the "mystery" belongs as much to the conservation of characterin the individual life as to its conservation in the race; if an explanation be necessary before acceptance of the facts in the one case, it is assuredly necessary in the other also; and its necessity must be fatal to Physiological Psychology. It is time that that ancient scarecrow of superstition, "a mystery," were removed from the field of science. When Wundt further proceeds to interpret Spencer's theory of heredity as one of the inheritance of distinct and definite ideas in their original form, he reads into the theory what Spencer himself, with his conceptions of instinct and reflex action, never put there, and what, moreover, no modern writer on philosophy has distinctly asserted. This present treatise is much more open to Wundt's criticism than is Spencer's work, though it makes no positive assertion as to the nature of "instinct" and so-called "automatism," but leaves the question as to their unconscious character open. The appearance of common psychical phenomena at the period of puberty, and with characteristics peculiar, moreover, to the particular lines of descent, would be enough to establish the fact of heredity, if no other testimony were forthcoming; and yet no one can "explain" the sudden appearance of these phenomena at a certain age.

But the most of the objections to Evolutional Ethics are not on such score as this. A while ago, the conservatives in Ethics declared that the theory of Evolution, even if true, had nothing to do with morals, which occupied a region far above the plane of science. Now, the most of the conservative schools content themselves with merely asserting that evolution may be true even in application to Ethics, but that it is useless in this province, since it adds nothing of value to theory or practice. It may be well to examine into this assertion.A priori, we could scarcely suppose that increased knowledge in any branch could fail to be of importance to that branch and to affect it in some manner. Knowledge is power, and we should presume not less so in Ethics than in any other science.

The assertion that Evolution adds nothing to theory would indeed be as just with regard to other sciences as with regard to Ethics; or, rather, it would be more just with regard to the natural sciences. For they at least recognized, before the appearance of the theory of Evolution, the element of constancy ordinarily called law, and attempted to formulate this constancy as a basisof thought and action. To these concepts of constancy and the predictions founded upon them, the theory of Evolution merely added greater certainty and a more extended range, supplying the bond of union between various branches, and showing the inner relation of many before disconnected theories; its whole force was one of clarification. But the work of Evolution for Ethics, though of a similar nature, has been of even greater degree and significance; it has unified and clarified the attempts made to discover a basis for moral principles and has rendered that foundation for the first time secure; it has cleared away, with one sweep, the rubbish of ancient superstition, made exact methods possible, and raised Ethics to the plane of a Science. If it had added anything absolutely new and entirely unconnected with previous theory, it would be as unintelligible to us as Calculus to a Fiji-Islander; if it had no intimate and vital connection with foregoing ideas, it would meet with no comprehension or acceptance. Science, too, is an evolution, not a creation. The value of the theory of Evolution lies in the very fact that it is simply an addition, though a large one, to previous thought, a higher phase of conception which rises naturally out of the old. But the cavillers say on the one hand: "It teaches a theory of conscience as instinct, therefore we may still cling to the old and unaltered doctrine of the veiled and sacred 'mystery of Feeling'"; and on the other hand: "We already accepted a basis of reason and Utility, therefore our theory, not being overthrown, needs no alteration." Both schools forget that, in science as elsewhere, the new develops from the old, but evolution brings with it, nevertheless, a difference of degree that finally issues in difference of kind. It has been said even by one belonging to the advanced school of Ethics, that, if the course of Evolution could be shown to prescribe immoral conduct, the duty of the moral man would be to oppose evolution even if he perished in the attempt. The conception which lies at the basis of this assertion is as erroneous as that which asserts that man must go forward on the path taken by evolution whether he will or no.[266]To suppose the will of society opposing the course of Evolution is to suppose a self-contradiction. Nature and man's will are not two different things in this process; manisthe part of nature which is involved in the evolution considered. Our predictionof the direction of social development is a prediction of his will; hewillwill in certain ways constant in the broad sense in which all nature is constant, constant as character and reason are constant. The individual has assuredly the power to oppose himself to all other individuals, if he so wills; and his influence will not be lost;but it is exactly this willing and the mutual influence of individuals upon each other which the theory of Evolution, as applied to Ethics, endeavors to take into account. The result in prediction cannot be properly likened, as it is likened by Stephen,[267]to the inference of the future of an organic whole from its present parts. It does not define the progress in society as a whole from a study of the individual; it is, on the contrary, an inference of the future of the whole from its past and present considered in the light of general natural laws, and is as legitimate as the computation of the future position of heavenly bodies from their observed past movements and present position; though we can doubtless make only general predictions from general observations. Or, if we approach the question from another side, we may say that the science of Ethics endeavors to ascertain the ideal by which the welfare of all may be attained, and that the solution of this problem cannot be given otherwise than through rules for the attainment of the general health in the broadest sense of the word; for this corresponds to a final harmony of desires through survival of the fittest.

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