huxley evolution and ethics.doc

8/12/2019 Huxley Evolution and ethics.doc

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Romanes T. H. H

Huxley at time of delivery of Romanes Lecture

Photograph by W. and D. Downey (!"#$

Evolution and Ethics

%The Romanes Lecture,!"#&

Collected Essays'

%)*& +oleo enim et in aliena castra transire, non tan-uam transfuga sed tan-uam explorator. (L.nnai +enec/

0pist. ''. ).$

1here is a delightful child2s story, 3nown by the title of 45ac3 and the 6ean7stal3,4 with whichmy contemporaries who are present will be familiar. 6ut so many of our grave and reverend

8uniors have been brought up on severer intellectual diet, and, perhaps, have become

ac-uainted with fairyland only through primers of comparative mythology, that it may be

needful to give an outline of the tale. 't is a legend of a bean7plant, which grows and grows

until it reaches the high heavens and there spreads out into a vast canopy of foliage. 1he hero,

being moved to climb the stal3, discovers that the leafy expanse supports a world composed

of the same elements as that below, but yet strangely new9 and his adventures there, on which

' may not dwell, must have com%):&pletely changed his views of the nature of things9 though

the story, not having been composed by, or for, philosophers, has nothing to say about views.

;y present enterprise has a certain analogy to that of the daring adventurer. ' beg you to

accompany me in an attempt to reach a world which, to many, is probably strange, by the help

of a bean. 't is, as you 3now, a simple, inert loo3ing thing.


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may be li3ened to the ascent and descent of a slung stone, or the course of an arrow along its

tra8ectory. ?r we may say that the living energy ta3es first an upward and then a downward

road. ?r it may seem preferable to compare the expansion of the germ into the full7grown

plant, to the unfolding of a fan, or to the rolling forth and widening of a stream9 and thus to

arrive at the conception of 2development,2 or 2evolution.2 Here as elsewhere, names are 2noise

and smo3e29 the important point is to have a clear and ade-uate conception of the factsignified by a name. nd, in this case, the fact is the +isyph/an process, in the course of

which, the living and growing plant passes from the relative simplicity and latent potentiality

of the seed to the full epiphany of a highly differentiated type, thence to fall bac3 to simplicity

and potentiality.

%)"& 1he value of a strong intellectual grasp of the nature of this process lies in the

circumstance that what is true of the bean is true of living things in general. @rom very low

forms up to the highestAin the animal no less than in the vegetable 3ingdomAthe process of

life presents the same appearanceof cyclical evolution. >ay, we have but to cast our eyes

over the rest of the world and cyclical change presents itself on all sides. 't meets us in the

water that flows to the sea and returns to the springs9 in the heavenly bodies that wax andwane, go and return to their places9 in the inexorable se-uence of the ages of man2s life9 in

that successive rise, apogee, and fall of dynasties and of states which is the most prominent

topic of civil history.

s no man fording a swift stream can dip his foot twice into the same water, so no man can,

with exactness, affirm of anything in the sensible world that it is. Bs he utters the words, nay,

as he thin3s them, the predicate ceases to be applicable9 the present has become the past9 the

2is2 should be 2was.2 nd the more we learn of the nature of things, the more evident is it that

what we call rest is only unperceived activity9 that seeming peace is silent but strenuous

battle. 'n every part, at every moment, the state of the cosmos is the expression of a transitory

ad8ustment of contending forces9 a scene of strife, in which all the combatants fall in turn.

What is %C& true of each part, is true of the whole. >atural 3nowledge tends more and more

to the conclusion that 4all the choir of heaven and furniture of the earth4 are the transitory

forms of parcels of cosmic substance wending along the road of evolution, from nebulous

potentiality, through endless growths of sun and planet and satellite9 through all varieties of

matter9 through infinite diversities of life and thought9 possibly, through modes of being of

which we neither have a conception, nor are competent to form any, bac3 to the indefinable

latency from which they arose. 1hus the most obvious attribute of the cosmos is its

impermanence. 't assumes the aspect not so much of a permanent entity as of a changeful

process, in which naught endures save the flow of energy and the rational order which

pervades it.

We have climbed our bean7stal3 and have reached a wonderland in which the common and

the familiar become things new and strange. 'n the exploration of the cosmic process thus

typified, the highest intelligence of man finds inexhaustible employment9 giants are subdued

to our service9 and the spiritual affections of the contemplative philosopher are engaged by

beauties worthy of eternal constancy.

6ut there is another aspect of the cosmic process, so perfect as a mechanism, so beautiful as a

wor3 of art. Where the cosmopoietic energy wor3s %C& through sentient beings, there arises,

among its other manifestations, that which we call pain or suffering. 1his baleful product of

evolution increases in -uantity and in intensity, with advancing grades of animal organi=ation,until it attains its highest level in man. @urther, the consummation is not reached in man, the

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mere animal9 nor in man, the whole or half savage9 but only in man, the member of an

organi=ed polity. nd it is a necessary conse-uence of his attempt to live in this way9 that is,

under those conditions which are essential to the full development of his noblest powers.

;an, the animal, in fact, has wor3ed his way to the headship of the sentient world, and has

become the superb animal which he is, in virtue of his success in the struggle for existence.1he conditions having been of a certain order, man2s organi=ation has ad8usted itself to them

better than that of his competitors in the cosmic strife. 'n the case of man3ind, the self7

assertion, the unscrupulous sei=ing upon all that can be grasped, the tenacious holding of all

that can be 3ept, which constitute the essence of the struggle for existence, have answered.

@or his successful progress, throughout the savage state, man has been largely indebted to

those -ualities which he shares with the ape and the tiger9 his exceptional physical

organi=ation9 his cunning, his sociability, his curiosity, and his imitativeness9 his ruthless %CB&

and ferocious destructiveness when his anger is roused by opposition.

6ut, in proportion as men have passed from anarchy to social organi=ation, and in proportion

as civili=ation has grown in worth, these deeply ingrained serviceable -ualities have becomedefects. fter the manner of successful persons, civili=ed man would gladly 3ic3 down the

ladder by which he has climbed. He would be only too pleased to see 2the ape and tiger die.2

6ut they decline to suit his convenience9 and the unwelcome intrusion of these boon

companions of his hot youth into the ranged existence of civil life adds pains and griefs,

innumerable and immeasurably great, to those which the cosmic process necessarily brings on

the mere animal. 'n fact, civili=ed man brands all these ape and tiger promptings with the

name of sins9 he punishes many of the acts which flow from them as crimes9 and, in extreme

cases, he does his best to put an end to the survival of the fittest of former days by axe and

rope.

' have said that civili=ed man has reached this point9 the assertion is perhaps too broad and

general9 ' had better put it that ethical man has attained thereto. 1he science of ethics

professes to furnish us with a reasoned rule of life9 to tell us what is right action and why it is

so. Whatever differences of opinion may exist among experts, there is a general consensus

that the ape and tiger %C#& methods of the struggle for existence are not reconcilable with

sound ethical principles.

1he hero of our story descended the bean7stal3, and came bac3 to the common world, where

fare and wor3 were ali3e hard9 where ugly competitors were much commoner than beautiful

princesses9 and where the everlasting battle with self was much less sure to be crowned with

victory than a turn7to with a giant. We have done the li3e. 1housands upon thousands of ourfellows, thousands of years ago, have preceded us in finding themselves face to face with the

same dread problem of evil. 1hey also have seen that the cosmic process is evolution9 that it is

full of wonder, full of beauty, and, at the same time, full of pain. 1hey have sought to discover

the bearing of these great facts on ethics9 to find out whether there is, or is not, a sanction for

morality in the ways of the cosmos.

1heories of the universe, in which the conception of evolution plays a leading part, were

extant at least six centuries before our era. Eertain 3nowledge of them, in the fifth century,

reaches us from localities as distant as the valley of the Fanges and the siatic coasts of the

Ggean. 1o the early philosophers of Hindostan, no less than to those of 'onia, the salient and

characteristic feature of the phenomenal world was its change%C)&fulness9 the unresting flowof all things, through birth to visible being and thence to not being, in which they could

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discern no sign of a beginning and for which they saw no prospect of an ending. 't was no less

plain to some of these anti-ue fore7runners of modern philosophy that suffering is the badge

of all the tribe of sentient things9 that it is no accidental accompaniment, but an essential

constituent of the cosmic process. 1he energetic Free3 might find fierce 8oys in a world in

which 2strife is father and 3ing29 but the old ryan spirit was subdued to -uietism in the 'ndian

sage9 the mist of suffering which spread over humanity hid everything else from his view9 tohim life was one with suffering and suffering with life.

'n Hindostan, as in 'onia, a period of relatively high and tolerably stable civili=ation had

succeeded long ages of semi7barbarism and struggle. ?ut of wealth and security had come

leisure and refinement, and, close at their heels, had followed the malady of thought. 1o the

struggle for bare existence, which never ends, though it may be alleviated and partially

disguised for a fortunate few, succeeded the struggle to ma3e existence intelligible and to

bring the order of things into harmony with the moral sense of man, which also never ends,

but, for the thin3ing few, becomes 3eener with every increase of 3nowledge and with every

step towards the reali=ation of a worthy ideal of life.

%CC& 1wo thousand five hundred years ago, the value of civili=ation was as apparent as it is

now9 then, as now, it was obvious that only in the garden of an orderly polity can the finest

fruits humanity is capable of bearing be produced. 6ut it had also become evident that the

blessings of culture were not unmixed. 1he garden was apt to turn into a hothouse. 1he

stimulation of the senses the pampering of the emotions, endlessly multiplied the sources of

pleasure. 1he constant widening of the intellectual field indefinitely extended the range of that

especially human faculty of loo3ing before and after, which adds to the fleeting present those

old and new worlds of the past and the future, wherein men dwell the more the higher their

culture. 6ut that very sharpening of the sense and that subtle refinement of emotion, which

brought such a wealth of pleasures, were fatally attended by a proportional enlargement of the

capacity for suffering9 and the divine faculty of imagination, while it created new heavens and

new earths, provided them with the corresponding hells of futile regret for the past and

morbid anxiety for the future.#@inally, the inevitable penalty of over7stimulation, exhaustion,

opened the gates of civili=ation to its great enemy, ennui9 the stale and flat weariness when

man delights not, nor woman neither9 when all things are vanity and vexation9 and life seems

not worth living except to escape the bore of dying.

%C*& 0ven purely intellectual progress brings about its revenges. Problems settled in a rough

and ready way by rude men, absorbed in action, demand renewed attention and show

themselves to be still unread riddles when men have time to thin3. 1he beneficent demon,

doubt, whose name is Legion and who dwells amongst the tombs of old faiths, enters intoman3ind and thenceforth refuses to be cast out. +acred customs, venerable dooms of ancestral

wisdom, hallowed by tradition and professing to hold good for all time, are put to the

-uestion. Eultured reflection as3s for their credentials9 8udges them by its own standards9

finally, gathers those of which it approves into ethical systems, in which the reasoning is

rarely much more than a decent pretext for the adoption of foregone conclusions.

?ne of the oldest and most important elements in such systems is the conception of 8ustice.

+ociety is impossible unless those who are associated agree to observe certain rules of

conduct towards one another9 its stability depends on the steadiness with which they abide by

that agreement9 and, so far as they waver, that mutual trust which is the bond of society is

wea3ened or destroyed. Wolves could not hunt in pac3s except for the real, thoughunexpressed, understanding that they should not attac3 one another during the chase. 1he

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most rudimentary polity is a pac3 of men living under the li3e tacit, %C:& or expressed,

understanding9 and having made the very important advance upon wolf society, that they

agree to use the force of the whole body against individuals who violate it and in favour of

those who observe it. 1his observance of a common understanding, with the conse-uent

distribution of punishments and rewards according to accepted rules, received the name of

8ustice, while the contrary was called in8ustice. 0arly ethics did not ta3e much note of theanimus of the violator of the rules. 6ut civili=ation could not advance far, without the

establishment of a capital distinction between the case of involuntary and that of wilful

misdeed9 between a merely wrong action and a guilty one. nd, with increasing refinement of

moral appreciation, the problem of desert, which arises out of this distinction, ac-uired more

and more theoretical and practical importance. 'f life must be given for life, yet it was

recogni=ed that the unintentional slayer did not altogether deserve death9 and, by a sort of

compromise between the public and the private conception of 8ustice, a sanctuary was

provided in which he might ta3e refuge from the avenger of blood.

1he idea of 8ustice thus underwent a gradual sublimation from punishment and reward

according to acts, to punishment and reward according to desert9 or, in other words, accordingto motive. Righteousness, that is, action from right motive, %C!& not only became synonymous

with 8ustice but the positive constituent of innocence and the very heart of goodness.

>ow when the ancient sage, whether 'ndian or Free3, who had attained to this conception of

goodness, loo3ed the world, and especially human life, in the face, he found it as hard as we

do to bring the course of evolution into harmony with even the elementary re-uirements of the

ethical ideal of the 8ust and the good.

'f there is one thing plainer than another, it is that neither the pleasures nor the pains of life, in

the merely animal world, are distributed according to desert9 for it is admittedly impossible

for the lower orders of sentient beings to deserve either the one or the other. 'f there is a

generali=ation from the facts of human life which has the assent of thoughtful men in every

age and country, it is that the violator of ethical rules constantly escapes the punishment

which he deserves9 that the wic3ed flourishes li3e a green bay tree, while the righteous begs

his bread9 that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children9 that, in the realm of nature,

ignorance is punished 8ust as severely as wilful wrong9 and that thousands upon thousands of

innocent beings suffer for the crime, or the unintentional trespass, of one.

Free3 and +emite and 'ndian are agreed upon %C"& this sub8ect. 1he boo3 of 5ob is at one with

the 4Wor3s and Days4 and the 6uddhist +utras9 the Psalmist and the Preacher of 'srael, with

the 1ragic Poets of Freece. What is a more common motive of the ancient tragedy in fact,than the unfathomable in8ustice of the nature of things9 what is more deeply felt to be true

than its presentation of the destruction of the blameless by the wor3 of his own hands, or by

the fatal operation of the sins of others +urely Idipus was pure of heart9 it was the natural

se-uence of eventsAthe cosmic processAwhich drove him, in all innocence, to slay his father

and become the husband of his mother, to the desolation of his people and his own headlong

ruin. ?r to step, for a moment, beyond the chronological limits ' have set myself, what

constitutes the sempiternal attraction of Hamlet but the appeal to deepest experience of that

history of a no less blameless dreamer, dragged, in spite of himself, into a world out of 8oint9

involved in a tangle of crime and misery, created by one of the prime agents of the cosmic

process as it wor3s in and through man

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1hus, brought before the tribunal of ethics, the cosmos might well seem to stand condemned.

1he conscience of man revolted against the moral indifference of nature, and the microcosmic

atom should have found the illimitable macrocosm guilty. 6ut few, or none, ventured to

record that verdict.

%*& 'n the great +emitic trial of this issue, 5ob ta3es refuge in silence and submission9 the'ndian and the Free3, less wise perhaps, attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable and plead for

the defendant. 1o this end, the Free3s invented 1heodicies9 while the 'ndians devised what, in

its ultimate form, must rather be termed a Eosmodicy. @or, though 6uddhism recogni=es gods

many and lords many, they are products of the cosmic process9 and transitory, however long

enduring, manifestations of its eternal activity. 'n the doctrine of transmigration, whatever its

origin, 6rahminical and 6uddhist speculation found, ready to hand,) the means of

constructing a plausible vindication of the ways of the cosmos to man. 'f this world is full of

pain and sorrow9 if grief and evil fall, li3e the rain, upon both the 8ust and the un8ust9 it is

because, li3e the rain, they are lin3s in the endless chain of natural causation by which past,

present, and future are indissolubly connected9 and there is no more in8ustice in the one case

than in the other. 0very sentient being is reaping as it has sown9 if not in this life, then in oneor other of the infinite series of antecedent existences of which it is the latest term. 1he

present distribution of good and evil is, therefore, the algebraical sum of accumulated positive

and negative deserts9 or, rather, it depends on the floating balance of the account. @or it was

not thought necessary that a complete %*& settlement should ever ta3e place. rrears might

stand over as a sort of 2hanging gale29 a period of celestial happiness 8ust earned might be

succeeded by ages of torment in a hideous nether world, the balance still overdue for some

remote ancestral error.C

Whether the cosmic process loo3s any more moral than at first, after such a vindication, may

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this way is by no means so certain9 it is not so sure that the transmitted character of an evil

liver is worse, or that of a righteous man better, than that which he received. 'ndian

philosophy, however, did not admit of any doubt on this sub8ect9 the belief in the influence of

conditions, notably of self7discipline, on the 3arma was not merely a necessary postulate of its

theory of retribution, but it pre%*#&sented the only way of escape from the endless round of

transmigrations.

1he earlier forms of 'ndian philosophy agreed with those prevalent in our own times, in

supposing the existence of a permanent reality, or 2substance,2 beneath the shifting series of

phenomena, whether of matter or of mind. 1he substance of the cosmos was 26rahma,2 that of

the individual man 2tman29 and the latter was separated from the former only, if ' may so

spea3, by its phenomenal envelope, by the casing of sensations, thoughts and desires,

pleasures and pains, which ma3e up the illusive phantasmagoria of life. 1his the ignorant ta3e

for reality9 their 2tman2 therefore remains eternally imprisoned in delusions, bound by the

fetters of desire and scourged by the whip of misery. 6ut the man who has attained

enlightenment sees that the apparent reality is mere illusion, or, as was said a couple of

thousand years later, that there is nothing good nor bad but thin3ing ma3es it so. 'f the cosmos4is 8ust and of our pleasant vices ma3es instruments to scourge us,4 it would seem that the

only way to escape from our heritage of evil is to destroy that fountain of desire whence our

vices flow9 to refuse any longer to be the instruments of the evolutionary process, and

withdraw from the struggle for existence. 'f the 3arma is modifiable by self7discipline, if its

coarser desires, one after another, can be extinguished, the ultimate funda%*)&mental desire of

self7assertion, or the desire to be, may also be destroyed.:1hen the bubble of illusion will

burst, and the freed individual 2tman2 will lose itself in the universal 26rahma.2

+uch seems to have been the pre76uddhistic conception of salvation, and of the way to be

followed by those who would attain thereto. >o more thorough mortification of the flesh has

ever been attempted than that achieved by the 'ndian ascetic anchorite9 no later monachism

has so nearly succeeded in reducing the human mind to that condition of impassive -uasi7

somnambulism, which, but for its ac3nowledged holiness, might run the ris3 of being

confounded with idiocy.

nd this salvation, it will be observed, was to be attained through 3nowledge, and by action

based on that 3nowledge9 8ust as the experimenter, who would obtain a certain physical or

chemical result, must have a 3nowledge of the natural laws involved and the persistent

disciplined will ade-uate to carry out all the various operations re-uired. 1he supernatural, in

our sense of the term, was entirely excluded. 1here was no external power which could affect

the se-uence of cause and effect which gives rise to 3arma9 none but the will of the sub8ect ofthe 3arma which could put an end to it.

?nly one rule of conduct could be based upon the remar3able theory of which ' have

endeavoured to give a reasoned outline. 't was folly to continue %*C& to exist when an overplus

of pain was certain9 and the probabilities in favour of the increase of misery with the

prolongation of existence, were so overwhelming. +laying the body only made matters worse9

there was nothing for it but to slay the soul by the voluntary arrest of all its activities.

Property, social ties, family affections, common companionship, must be abandoned9 the most

natural appetites, even that for food, must be suppressed, or at least minimi=ed9 until all that

remained of a man was the impassive, extenuated, mendicant mon3, self7hypnotised into

cataleptic trances, which the deluded mystic too3 for foretastes of the final union with6rahma.

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1he founder of 6uddhism accepted the chief postulates demanded by his predecessors. 6ut he

was not satisfied with the practical annihilation involved in merging the individual existence

in the unconditionedAthe tman in 6rahma. 't would seem that the admission of the existence

of any substance whateverAeven of the tenuity of that which has neither -uality nor energy

and of which no predicate whatever can be assertedAappeared to him to be a danger and a

snare. 1hough reduced to a hypostati=ed negation, 6rahma was not to be trusted9 so long asentity was there, it might conceivably resume the weary round of evolution, with all its train

of immeasurable miseries. Fautama got rid of even that %**& shade of a shadow of permanent

existence by a metaphysical tour de forceof great interest to the student of philosophy, seeing

that it supplies the wanting half of 6ishop 6er3eley2s well73nown idealistic argument.

Franting the premises, ' am not aware of any escape from 6er3eley2s conclusion, that the

2substance2 of matter is a metaphysical un3nown -uantity, of the existence of which there is no

proof. What 6er3eley does not seem to have so clearly perceived is that the non7existence of a

substance of mind is e-ually arguable9 and that the result of the impartial applications of his

reasonings is the reduction of the ll to co7existences and se-uences of phenomena, beneath

and beyond which there is nothing cognoscible. 't is a remar3able indication of the subtlety of'ndian speculation that Fautama should have seen deeper than the greatest of modern

idealists9 though it must be admitted that, if some of 6er3eley2s reasonings respecting the

nature of spirit are pushed home, they reach pretty much the same conclusion.!

ccepting the prevalent 6rahminical doctrine that the whole cosmos, celestial, terrestrial, and

infernal, with its population of gods and other celestial beings, of sentient animals, of ;ara

and his devils, is incessantly shifting through recurring cycles of production and destruction,

in each of which every human being has his transmigratory %*:& representative, Fautama

proceeded to eliminate substance altogether9 and to reduce the cosmos to a mere flow of

sensations, emotions, volitions, and thoughts, devoid of any substratum. s, on the surface of

a stream of water, we see ripples and whirlpools, which last for a while and then vanish with

the causes that gave rise to them, so what seem individual existences are mere temporary

associations of phenomena circling round a centre, 4li3e a dog tied to a post.4 'n the whole

universe there is nothing permanent, no eternal substance either of mind or of matter.

Personality is a metaphysical fancy9 and in very truth, not only we, but all things, in the

worlds without end of the cosmic phantasmagoria, are such stuff as dreams are made of.

What then becomes of 3arma Jarma remains untouched. s the peculiar form of energy we

call magnetism may be transmitted from a loadstone to a piece of steel, from the steel to a

piece of nic3el, as it may be strengthened or wea3ened by the conditions to which it is

sub8ected while resident in each piece, so it seems to have been conceived that 3arma mightbe transmitted from one phenomenal association to another by a sort of induction. However

this may be, Fautama doubtless had a better guarantee for the abolition of transmigration,

when no wrac3 of substance, either of tman or of 6rahma, was left behind when, in short, a

man had but to %*!& dream that he willed not to dream, to put an end to all dreaming.

1his end of life2s dream is >irvana. What >irvana is the learned do not agree. 6ut, since the

best original authorities tell us there is neither desire nor activity, nor any possibility of

phenomenal reappearance for the sage who has entered >irvana, it may be safely said of this

acme of 6uddhistic philosophyA4the rest is silence.4"

1hus there is no very great practical disagreement between Fautama and his predecessorswith respect to the end of action9 but it is otherwise as regards the means to that end. With 8ust

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insight into human nature, Fautama declared extreme ascetic practices to be useless and

indeed harmful. 1he appetites and the passions are not to be abolished by mere mortification

of the body9 they must, in addition, be attac3ed on their own ground and con-uered by steady

cultivation of the mental habits which oppose them9 by universal benevolence9 by the return

of good for evil9 by humility9 by abstinence from evil thought9 in short, by total renunciation

of that self7assertion which is the essence of the cosmic process.

Doubtless, it is to these ethical -ualities that 6uddhism owes its marvellous success.

system which 3nows no Fod in the western sense9 which denies a soul to man9 which counts

the belief in immortality a blunder and the hope of it a sin9 %*"& which refuses any efficacy to

prayer and sacrifice9 which bids men loo3 to nothing but their own efforts for salvation9

which, in its original purity, 3new nothing of vows of obedience, abhorred intolerance, and

never sought the aid of the secular arm9 yet spread over a considerable moiety of the ?ld

World with marvellous rapidity, and is still, with whatever base admixture of foreign

superstitions, the dominant creed of a large fraction of man3ind.

Let us now set our faces westwards, towards sia ;inor and Freece and 'taly, to view therise and progress of another philosophy, apparently independent, but no less pervaded by the

conception of evolution.

1he sages of ;iletus were pronounced evolutionists9 and, however dar3 may be some of the

sayings of Heracleitus of 0phesus, who was probably a contemporary of Fautama, no better

expressions of the essence of the modern doctrine of evolution can be found than are

presented by some of his pithy aphorisms and stri3ing metaphors.B 'ndeed, many of my

present auditors must have observed that, more than once, ' have borrowed from him in the

brief exposition of the theory of evolution with which this discourse commenced.

6ut when the focus of Free3 intellectual activity shifted to thens, the leading minds

concentrated %:& their attention upon ethical problems. @orsa3ing the study of the macrocosm

for that of the microcosm, they lost the 3ey to the thought of the great 0phesian, which, '

imagine, is more intelligible to us than it was to +ocrates, or to Plato. +ocrates, more

especially, set the fashion of a 3ind of inverse agnosticism, by teaching that the problems of

physics lie beyond the reach of the human intellect9 that the attempt to solve them is

essentially vain9 that the one worthy ob8ect of investigation is the problem of ethical life9 and

his example was followed by the Eynics and the later +toics. 0ven the comprehensive

3nowledge and the penetrating intellect of ristotle failed to suggest to him that in holding the

eternity of the world, within its present range of mutation, he was ma3ing a retrogressive step.

1he scientific heritage of Heracleitus passed into the hands neither of Plato nor of ristotle,but into those of Democritus. 6ut the world was not yet ready to receive the great conceptions

of the philosopher of bdera. 't was reserved for the +toics to return to the trac3 mar3ed out

by the earlier philosophers9 and, professing themselves disciples of Heracleitus, to develop the

idea of evolution systematically. 'n doing this, they not only omitted some characteristic

features of their master2s teaching, but they made additions altogether foreign to it. ?ne of the

most influential of these importations was the transcen%:&dental theism which had come into

vogue. 1he restless, fiery energy, operating according to law, out of which all things emerge

and into which they return, in the endless successive cycles of the great year9 which creates

and destroys worlds as a wanton child builds up, and anon levels, sand castles on the

seashore9 was metamorphosed into a material world7soul and dec3ed out with all the attributes

of ideal Divinity9 not merely with infinite power and transcendent wisdom, but with absolutegoodness.

"
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1he conse-uences of this step were momentous. @or if the cosmos is the effect of an

immanent, omnipotent, and infinitely beneficent cause, the existence in it of real evil, still less

of necessarily inherent evil, is plainly inadmissible. #


11/25


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1hus the extremes touch. Free3 thought and %::& 'ndian thought set out from ground common

to both, diverge widely, develop under very different physical and moral conditions, and

finally converge to practically the same end.

1he Medas and the Homeric epos set before us a world of rich and vigorous life, full of 8oyous

fighting men

41hat ever with a frolic welcome too3

1he thunder and the sunshine ....4

and who were ready to brave the very Fods themselves when their blood was up. few

centuries pass away, and under the influence of civili=ation the descendants of these men are

2sic3lied o2er with the pale cast of thought2Afran3 pessimists, or, at best, ma3e7believe

optimists. 1he courage of the warli3e stoc3 may be as hardly tried as before, perhaps more

hardly, but the enemy is self. 1he hero has become a mon3. 1he man of action is replaced by

the -uietist, whose highest aspiration is to be the passive instrument of the divine Reason. 6y

the 1iber, as by the Fanges, ethical man admits that the cosmos is too strong for him9 and,destroying every bond which ties him to it by ascetic discipline, he see3s salvation in absolute

renunciation.!

;odern thought is ma3ing a fresh start from the base whence 'ndian and Free3 philosophy set

out9 and, the human mind being very much what %:!& it was six7and7twenty centuries ago,

there is no ground for wonder if it presents indications of a tendency to move along the old

lines to the same results.

We are more than sufficiently familiar with modern pessimism, at least as a speculation9 for '

cannot call to mind that any of its present votaries have sealed their faith by assuming the rags

and the bowl of the mendicant 6hi33u, or the cloa3 and the wallet of the Eynic. 1he obstacles

placed in the way of sturdy vagrancy by an unphilosophical police have, perhaps, proved too

formidable for philosophical consistency. We also 3now modern speculative optimism, with

its perfectibility of the species, reign of peace, and lion and lamb transformation scenes9 but

one does not hear so much of it as one did forty years ago9 indeed, ' imagine it is to be met

with more commonly at the tables of the healthy and wealthy, than in the congregations of the

wise. 1he ma8ority of us, ' apprehend, profess neither pessimism nor optimism. We hold that

the world is neither so good, nor so bad, as it conceivably might be9 and, as most of us have

reason, now and again, to discover that it can be. 1hose who have failed to experience the

8oys that ma3e life worth living are, probably, in as small a minority as those who have never

3nown the griefs that rob existence of its savour and turn its richest fruits into mere dust andashes.

%:"& @urther, ' thin3 ' do not err in assuming that, however diverse their views on

philosophical and religious matters, most men are agreed that the proportion of good and evil

in life may be very sensibly affected by human action. ' never heard anybody doubt that the

evil may be thus increased, or diminished9 and it would seem to follow that good must be

similarly susceptible of addition or subtraction. @inally, to my 3nowledge, nobody professes

to doubt that, so far forth as we possess a power of bettering things, it is our paramount duty

to use it and to train all our intellect and energy to this supreme service of our 3ind.

B


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Hence the pressing interest of the -uestion, to what extent modern progress in natural

3nowledge, and, more especially, the general outcome of that progress in the doctrine of

evolution, is competent to help us in the great wor3 of helping one another

1he propounders of what are called the 4ethics of evolution,4 when the 2evolution of ethics2

would usually better express the ob8ect of their speculations, adduce a number of more or lessinteresting facts and more or less sound arguments in favour of the origin of the moral

sentiments, in the same way as other natural phenomena, by a process of evolution. ' have

little doubt, for my own part, that they are on the right trac39 but as the immoral sentiments

have no less been evolved, there is, so far, as much natural sanction for the %!& one as the

other. 1he thief and the murderer follow nature 8ust as much as the philanthropist. Eosmic

evolution may teach us how the good and the evil tendencies of man may have come about9

but, in itself, it is incompetent to furnish any better reason why what we call good is

preferable to what we call evil than we had before. +ome day, ' doubt not, we shall arrive at

an understanding of the evolution of the /sthetic faculty9 but all the understanding in the

world will neither increase nor diminish the force of the intuition that this is beautiful and that

is ugly.

1here is another fallacy which appears to me to pervade the so7called 4ethics of evolution.4 't

is the notion that because, on the whole, animals and plants have advanced in perfection of

organi=ation by means of the struggle for existence and the conse-uent 2survival of the fittest29

therefore men in society, men as ethical beings, must loo3 to the same process to help them

towards perfection. ' suspect that this fallacy has arisen out of the unfortunate ambiguity of

the phrase 2survival of the fittest.2 2@ittest2 has a connotation of 2best29 and about 2best2 there

hangs a moral flavour. 'n cosmic nature, however, what is 2fittest2 depends upon the

conditions. Long since,"' ventured to point out that if our hemisphere were to cool again, the

survival of the fittest might bring about, in the vegetable 3ingdom, a population of more and

more stunted and humbler and %!& humbler organisms, until the 2fittest2 that survived might

be nothing but lichens, diatoms, and such microscopic organisms as those which give red

snow its colour9 while, if it became hotter, the pleasant valleys of the 1hames and 'sis might

be uninhabitable by any animated beings save those that flourish in a tropical 8ungle. 1hey, as

the fittest, the best adapted to the changed conditions, would survive.

;en in society are undoubtedly sub8ect to the cosmic process. s among other animals,

multiplication goes on without cessation, and involves severe competition for the means of

support. 1he struggle for existence tends to eliminate those less fitted to adapt themselves to

the circumstances of their existence. 1he strongest, the most self7assertive, tend to tread down

the wea3er. 6ut the influence of the cosmic process on the evolution of society is the greaterthe more rudimentary its civili=ation. +ocial progress means a chec3ing of the cosmic process

at every step and the substitution for it of another, which may be called the ethical process9

the end of which is not the survival of those who may happen to be the fittest, in respect of the

whole of the conditions which obtain, but of those who are ethically the best.B

s ' have already urged, the practice of that which is ethically bestAwhat we call goodness or

virtueAinvolves a course of conduct which, in all %!B& respects, is opposed to that which leads

to success in the cosmic struggle for existence. 'n place of ruthless self7assertion it demands

self7restraint9 in place of thrusting aside, or treading down, all competitors, it re-uires that the

individual shall not merely respect, but shall help his fellows9 its influence is directed, not so

much to the survival of the fittest, as to the fitting of as many as possible to survive. 'trepudiates the gladiatorial theory of existence. 't demands that each man who enters into the

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en8oyment of the advantages of a polity shall be mindful of his debt to those who have

laboriously constructed it9 and shall ta3e heed that no act of his wea3ens the fabric in which

he has been permitted to live. Laws and moral precepts are directed to the end of curbing the

cosmic process and reminding the individual of his duty to the community, to the protection

and influence of which he owes, if not existence itself, at least the life of something better

than a brutal savage.

't is from neglect of these plain considerations that the fanatical individualismBof our time

attempts to apply the analogy of cosmic nature to society. ?nce more we have a

misapplication of the stoical in8unction to follow nature9 the duties of the individual to the

state are forgotten, and his tendencies to self7assertion are dignified by the name of rights. 't is

seriously debated whether the members of a community are 8ustified in %!#& using their

combined strength to constrain one of their number to contribute his share to the maintenance

of it9 or even to prevent him from doing his best to destroy it. 1he struggle for existence,

which has done such admirable wor3 in cosmic nature, must, it appears, be e-ually beneficent

in the ethical sphere.


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downward route will be commenced. 1he most daring imagination will hardly venture upon

the suggestion that the power and the intelligence of man can ever arrest the procession of the

great year.

;oreover, the cosmic nature born with us and, to a large extent, necessary for our

maintenance, is the outcome of millions of years of severe training, and it would be folly toimagine that a few centuries will suffice to subdue its masterfulness to purely ethical ends.

0thical nature may count upon having to rec3on with a tenacious and powerful enemy as long

as the world lasts. 6ut, on the other hand, ' see no limit to the extent to which intelligence and

will, guided by sound principles of investigation, and organi=ed in common effort, may

modify the conditions of existence, for a period longer than that now covered by history. nd

much may be done to change the nature of man himself.B# 1he intelligence which has

converted the brother of the wolf into the faithful guardian of the floc3 ought to be able to do

something towards curbing the instincts of savagery in civili=ed men.

6ut if we may permit ourselves a larger hope of abatement of the essential evil of the world

than was possible to those who, in the infancy of exact %!*& 3nowledge, faced the problem ofexistence more than a score of centuries ago, ' deem it an essential condition of the reali=ation

of that hope that we should cast aside the notion that the escape from pain and sorrow is the

proper ob8ect of life.

We have long since emerged from the heroic childhood of our race, when good and evil could

be met with the same 2frolic welcome29 the attempts to escape from evil, whether 'ndian or

Free3, have ended in flight from the battle7field9 it remains to us to throw aside the youthful

overconfidence and the no less youthful discouragement of nonage. We are grown men, and

must play the man

4 strong in will

1o strive, to see3, to find, and not to yield,4

cherishing the good that falls in our way, and bearing the evil, in and around us, with stout

hearts set on diminishing it. +o far, we all may strive in one faith towards one hopeK

4't may be that the gulfs will wash us down,

't may be we shall touch the Happy 'sles,

... but something ere the end,

+ome wor3 of noble note may yet be done.4B)

%!:& >?10+

Note(p. )"$.

' have been careful to spea3 of the 4appearance4 of cyclical evolution presented by living things9 for, on criticalexamination, it will be found that the course of vegetable and of animal life is not exactly represented by the

figure of a cycle which returns into itself. What actually happens, in all but the lowest organisms, is that one partof the growing germ (A$ gives rise to tissues and organs9 while another part (B$ remains in its primitive

condition, or is but slightly modified. 1he moietyAbecomes the body of the adult and, sooner or later, perishes,while portions of the moietyBare detached and, as offspring, continue the life of the species. 1hus, if we trace

bac3 an organism along the direct line of descent from its remotest ancestor,B,as a whole, has never suffereddeath9 portions of it, only, have been cast off and died in each individual offspring.

C
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0verybody is familiar with the way in which the 4suc3ers4 of a strawberry plant behave. thin cylinder of living

tissue 3eeps on growing at its free end, until it attains a considerable length. t %!!& successive intervals, itdevelops buds which grow into strawberry plants9 and these become independent by the death of the parts of the

suc3er which connect them. 1he rest of the suc3er, however, may go on living and growing indefinitely, and,circumstances remaining favourable, there is no obvious reason why it should ever die. 1he living substanceB,

in a manner, answers to the suc3er. 'f we could restore the continuity which was once possessed by the portions

ofB,contained in all the individuals of a direct line of descent, they would form a suc3er, orstolon,on whichthese individuals would be strung, and which would never have wholly died.

species remains unchanged so long as the potentiality of development resident inBremains unaltered9 so long,

e.g.,as the buds of the strawberry suc3er tend to become typical strawberry plants. 'n the case of the progressiveevolution of a species, the developmental potentiality ofBbecomes of a higher and higher order. 'n retrogressive

evolution, the contrary would be the case. 1he phenomena of atavism seem to show that retrogressive evolution,that is, the return of a species to one or other of its earlier forms, is a possibility to be rec3oned with. 1he

simplification of structure, which is so common in the parasitic members of a group, however, does not properly

come under this head. 1he worm7li3e, limblessLernahas no resemblance to any of the stages of developmentof the many7limbed active animals of the group to which it belongs.

%!"&NoteB(p. )"$.

Heracleitus says, ;but, to be strictly accurate, the river remains,though the water of which it is composed changesA8ust as a man retains his identity though the whole substance

of his body is constantly shifting.

1his is put very well by +eneca (0p. 'vii. i. B, 0d. Ruh3opf$K 4Eorpora nostra rapiuntur fluminum more,-uid-uid vides currit cum tempore9 nihil ex his -u/ videmus manet. 0go ipse dum lo-uor mutari ista, mutatus

sum. Hoc est -uod ait Heraclitus 2'n idem flumen bis non descendimus.2 ;anet idem fluminis nomen, a-ua

transmissa est. Hoc in amne manifestius est -uam in homine, sed nos -uo-ue non minus velox cursuspr/tervehit.4

Note#(p. CC$.

4;ulta bona nostra nobis nocent, timoris enim tormentum memoria reducit, providentia anticipat. >emo tantum

pr/sentibus miser est.4 (+eneca, 0d. v. :.$

mong the many wise and weighty aphorisms of the Roman 6acon, few sound the realities of life more deeply

than 4;ulta bona nostra nobis nocent.4 'f there is a soul of good in things evil, it is at least e-ually true that thereis a soul of evil in things goodK for things, li3e men, have 4les defauts de leurs -ualites.4 't is one of the last

lessons one learns from experience, but not the least important, that a %"& heavy tax is levied upon all forms ofsuccess9 and that failure is one of the commonest disguises assumed by blessings.

Note)(p. *$.

41here is within the body of every man a soul which, at the death of the body, flies away from it li3e a bird outof a cage, and enters upon a new life . . . either in one of the heavens or one of the hells or on this earth. 1he onlyexception is the rare case of a man having in this life ac-uired a true 3nowledge of Fod. ccording to the pre7

6uddhistic theory, the soul of such a man goes along the path of the Fods to Fod, and, being united with Him,enters upon an immortal life in which his individuality is not extinguished. 'n the latter theory, his soul is directly

absorbed into the Freat +oul, is lost in it, and has no longer any independent existence. 1he souls of all othermen enter, after the death of the body, upon a new existence in one or other of the many different modes of

being. 'f in heaven or hell, the soul itself becomes a god or demon without entering a body9 all superhumanbeings, save the great gods, being loo3ed upon as not eternal, but merely temporary creatures. 'f the soul returns

to earth it may or may not enter a new body9 and this either of a human being, an animal, a plant, or even amaterial ob8ect. @or all these are possessed of souls, and there is no essential difference between these souls and

the souls of menAall being ali3e mere spar3s of the Freat +pirit, who is the only real %"& existence.4 (RhysDavids,Hiert Lectures,!!, p. !#.$

*
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@or what ' have said about 'ndian Philosophy, ' am particularly indebted to the luminous exposition of primitive

6uddhism and its relations to earlier Hindu thought, which is given by Prof. Rhys Davids in his remar3ableHiert Lecturesfor !!, andBuddhism(!"$. 1he only apology ' can offer for the freedom with which '

have borrowed from him in these notes, is my desire to leave no doubt as to my indebtedness. ' have also foundDr. ?ldenberg2sBuddha(0d. B, !"$ very helpful. 1he origin of the theory of transmigration stated in the above

extract is an unsolved problem. 1hat it differs widely from the 0gyptian metempsychosis is clear. 'n fact, since

men usually people the other world with phantoms of this, the 0gyptian doctrine would seem to presuppose the'ndian as a more archaic belief.

Prof. Rhys Davids has fully insisted upon the ethical importance of the transmigration theory. 4?ne of the latest

speculations now being put forward among ourselves would see3 to explain each man2s character, and even hisoutward condition in life, by the character he inherited from his ancestors, a character gradually formed during a

practically endless series of past existences, modified only by the conditions into which he was born, those veryconditions being also, in li3e manner, the last result of a practically endless series of past causes. Fotama2s

speculation might be stated in the same words. 6ut it attempted also to explain, in a way different from %"B& that

which would be adopted by the exponents of the modern theory, that strange problem which it is also the motiveof the wonderful drama of the boo3 of 5ob to explainAthe fact that the actual distribution here of good fortune, or

misery, is entirely independent of the moral -ualities which men call good or bad. We cannot wonder that a

teacher, whose whole system was so essentially an ethical reformation, should have felt it incumbent upon him

to see3 an explanation of this apparent in8ustice. nd all the more so, since the belief he had inherited, the theoryof the transmigration of souls, had provided a solution perfectly sufficient to any one who could accept thatbelief.4 (Hiert Lectures,p. "#.$ ' should venture to suggest the substitution of 2largely2 for 2entirely2 in the

foregoing passage. Whether a ship ma3es a good or a bad voyage is largely independent of the conduct of thecaptain, but it is largely affected by that conduct. 1hough powerless before a hurricane he may weather many a

bad gale.

NoteC(p. *$.

1he outward condition of the soul is, in each new birth, determined by its actions in a previous birth9 but by eachaction in succession, and not by the balance struc3 after the evil has been rec3oned off against the good. good

man who has once uttered a slander may spend a hundred thousand years as a god, in conse-uence of his

goodness, and when the power of his good actions is exhausted, may be born %"#& as a dumb man on account ofhis transgression9 and a robber who has once done an act of mercy, may come to life in a 3ing2s body as the

result of his virtue, and then suffer torments for ages in hell or as a ghost without a body, or be re7born manytimes as a slave or an outcast, in conse-uence of his evil life.

41here is no escape, according to this theory, from the result of any act9 though it is only the conse-uences of its

own acts that each soul has to endure. 1he force has been set in motion by itself and can never stop9 and its effectcan never be foretold. 'f evil, it can never be modified or prevented, for it depends on a cause already completed,

that is now for ever beyond the soul2s control. 1here is even no continuing consciousness, no memory of the pastthat could guide the soul to any 3nowledge of its fate. 1he only advantage open to it is to add in this life to the

sum of its good actions, that it may bear fruit with the rest. nd even this can only happen in some future lifeunder essentially the same conditions as the present oneK sub8ect, li3e the present one, to old age, decay, and

death9 and affording opportunity, li3e the present one, for the commission of errors, ignorances, or sins, which in

their turn must inevitably produce their due effect of sic3ness, disability, or woe. 1hus is the soul tossed aboutfrom life to life, from billow to billow in the great ocean of transmigration. nd there is no escape save for thevery few, who, during their birth as men, attain to a right 3nowledge of the great +piritK and thus enter into

immortality, or, as the later philosophers taught, are absorbed into the %")& Divine 0ssence.4 (Rhys Davids,Hiert Lectures,pp. !C, !*.$

1he state after death thus imagined by the Hindu philosophers has a certain analogy to the purgatory of theRoman Ehurch9 except that escape from it is dependent, not on a divine decree modified, it may be, by

sacerdotal or saintly intercession, but by the acts of the individual himself9 and that while ultimate emergence

into heavenly bliss of the good, or well7prayed for, Eatholic is professedly assured, the chances in favour of the

attainment of absorption, or of >irvana, by any individual Hindu are extremely small.

Note*(p. *B$.

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but, so far as ' can see, the words $ill, soul, spirit,%"!& do not stand for different ideas or, in truth, for any idea at

all, but for something which is very different from ideas, and which, being an agent, cannot be li3e unto orrepresented by any idea whatever %though it must be owned at the same time, that we have some notion of soul,

spirit, and the operations of the mind, such as willing, loving, hating, inasmuch as we 3now or understand themeaning of these words4&. (The !rinciples of Human %no$ledge,lxxvi. +ee also OO 'xxxix., cxxxv., cxlv.$

't is open to discussion, ' thin3, whether it is possible to have 2some notion2 of that of which we can form no2idea.2

6er3eley attaches several predicates to the 4perceiving active being mind, spirit, soul or myself4 (Parts '. ''.$. 'tis said, for example, to be 4indivisible, incorporeal, unextended, and incorruptible.4 1he predicate indivisible,

though negative in form, has highly positive conse-uences. @or, if 2perceiving active being2 is strictly indivisible,man2s soul must be one with the Divine spiritK which is good Hindu or +toical doctrine, but hardly orthodox

Ehristian philosophy. 'f, on the other hand, the 2substance2 of active perceiving 2being2 is actually divided into the

one Divine and innumerable human entities, how can the predicate 2indivisible2 be rigorously applicable to it

1a3ing the words cited, as they stand, they amount to the denial of the possibility of any 3nowledge ofsubstance. 2;atter2 having been resolved into mere affections of 2spirit,2 2spirit2 melts away into an admittedly

inconceivable and un3nowable hypostasis %""& of thought and powerAconse-uently the existence of anything inthe universe beyond a flow of phenomena is a purely hypothetical assumption. 'ndeed a pyrrhonist might raise

the ob8ection that if 2esse2 is 2percipi2 spirit itself can have no existence except as a perception, hypostati=ed into a2self,2 or as a perception of some other spirit. 'n the former case, ob8ective reality vanishes9 in the latter, there

would seem to be the need of an innate series of spirits each perceiving the others.

't is curious to observe how very closely the phraseology of 6er3eley sometimes approaches that of the +toicsKK

thus (cxlviii.$ 4't seems to be ageneral pretense of the unthin&ingherd that they cannot see 'od.....6ut, alas, weneed only open our eyes to see the +overeign Lord of all things with a more full and clear view, than we do any

of our fellow7creatures... we do at all times and in all places perceive manifest to3ens of the DivinityK everythingwe see, hear, feel, or any wise perceive by sense, being a sign or effect of the power of Fod 4...... cxlix. 4't is

therefore plain, that nothing can e more e"identto any one that is capable of the least reflection, than thee(istence of 'od,or a spirit who is intimately present to our minds, producing in them all that variety of ideas or

sensations which continually affect us, on whom we have an absolute and entire dependence, in short, in whom$e li"e and mo"e and ha"e our eing.4 cl. %6ut you will say hath >ature no share in the production of naturalthings, and must they be all ascribed to the immediate and sole operation of Fod ......if by Natureis meant some

%& being distinct from Fod, as well as from the laws of nature and things perceived by sense, ' must confess

that word is to me an empty sound, without any intelligible meaning annexed to it.& >ature in this acceptation isa vain Chimraintroduced by those heathens, who had not 8ust notions of the omnipresence and infinite

perfection of Fod.4

Eompare +eneca ()e Beneficiis,iv. :$K

4>atura, in-uit, h/c mihi pr/stat. >on intelligis te, -uum hoc dicis, mutare >omen Deo uid enim est aliud>atura -uam Deus, et divina ratio, toti mundo et partibus e8us inserta uoties voles tibi licet aliter hunc

auctorem rerum nostrarum compellare, et 5ovem illum optimum et maximum rite dices, et tonantem, et statoremK-ui non, ut historici tradiderunt, ex eo -uod post votum susceptum acies Romanorum fugientum stetit, sed -uod

stant beneficio e8us omnia, stator, stabilitor-ue estK hunc eundem et fatum si dixeris, non mentieris, nam -uumfatum nihil aliud est, -uam series implexa causarum, ille est prima omnium causa, ea -ua c/ter/ pendent.4 't

would appear, therefore, that the good 6ishop is somewhat hard upon the 2heathen,2 of whose words his ownmight be a paraphrase.

1here is yet another direction in which 6er3eley2s philosophy, ' will not say agrees with Fautama2s, but at any

rate helps to ma3e a fundamental dogma of 6uddhism intelligible.

4' find ' can excite ideas in my mind at pleasure, and vary and shift the scene as often as ' thin3 fit. 't is no morethan willing, and straightway this or that idea arises in my fancyKand by the same power, %& it is obliterated,

and ma3es way for another. 1his ma3ing and unma3ing of ideas doth very properly denominate the mind active.

1his much is certain and grounded on experience....4 (!rinciples,xxviii.$

"


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good many of us, ' fancy, have reason to thin3 that experience tells them very much the contrary9 and are

painfully familiar with the obsession of the mind by ideas which cannot be obliterated by any effort of the willand steadily refuse to ma3e way for others. 6ut what ' desire to point out is that if Fautama was e-ually

confident that he could 2ma3e and unma3e2 ideasAthen, since he had resolved self into a group of idealphantomsAthe possibility of abolishing self by volition naturally followed.

Note"(p. *!$.

ccording to 6uddhism, the relation of one life to the next is merely that borne by the flame of one lamp to the

same of another lamp which is set alight by it. 1o the 2rahat2 or adept 4no outward form, no compound thing, nocreature, no creator, no existence of any 3ind, must appear to be other than a temporary collocation of its

component parts, fated inevitably to be dissolved.4A(Rhys Davids,Hiert Lectures,p. B.$

1he self is nothing but a group of phenomena held together by the desire of life9 when that desire shall haveceased, 4the Jarma of that particular chain of lives will cease to influence any longer any distinct individual, and

there will be no more birth9 for %B& birth, decay, and death, grief, lamentation, and despair will have come, so

far as regards that chain of lives, for ever to an end.4

1he state of mind of the rahat in which the desire of life has ceased is >irvana. Dr. ?ldenberg has very acutelyand patiently considered the various interpretations which have been attached to 2>irvana 2in the wor3 to which 'have referred (pp. B!C et se*.$. 1he result of his and other discussions of the -uestion may ' thin3 be briefly

stated thusK

. Logical deduction from the predicates attached to the term 2>irvana2 strips it of all reality, conceivability, or

perceivability, whether by Fods or men. @or all practical purposes, therefore, it comes to exactly the same thingas annihilation.

B. 6ut it is not annihilation in the ordinary sense, inasmuch as it could ta3e place in the living rahat or 6uddha.

#. nd, since, for the faithful 6uddhist, that which was abolished in the rahat was the possibility of further

pain, sorrow, or sin9 and that which was attained was perfect peace9 his mind directed itself exclusively to this8oyful consummation, and personified the negation of all conceivable existence and of all pain into a positive

bliss. 1his was all the more easy, as Fautama refused to give any dogmatic definition of >irvana. 1here issomething analogous in the way in which people commonly tal3 of the 2happy release2 of a man who has been

long suffering from mortal disease. ccording to their own views, it must always be extremely doubtful whetherthe man will be any happier after the 2release2 than %#& before. 6ut they do not choose to loo3 at the matter in

this light.

1he popular notion that, with practical, if not metaphysical, annihilation in view, 6uddhism must needs be a sad

and gloomy faith seems to be inconsistent with fact9 on the contrary, the prospect of >irvana fills the truebeliever, not merely with cheerfulness, but with an ecstatic desire to reach it.

Note(p. *!$.

1he influence of the picture of the personal -ualities of Fautama, afforded by the legendary anecdotes whichrapidly grew into a biography of the 6uddha9 and by the birth stories, which coalesced with the current fol3lore,

and were intelligible to all the world, doubtless played a great part. @urther, although Fautama appears not to

have meddled with the caste system, he refused to recogni=e any distinction, save that of perfection in the way ofsalvation, among his followers9 and by such teaching, no less than by the inculcation of love and benevolence to

all sentient beings, he practically levelled every social, political, and racial barrier. third important conditionwas the organi=ation of the 6uddhists into monastic communities for the stricter professors, while the laity were

permitted a wide indulgence in practice and were allowed to hope for accommodation in some of the temporaryabodes of bliss. With a few hundred thousand years of immediate paradise in sight, the average man could be

content to shut his eyes to what might follow.

%)&Note(p. *"$.

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'n ancient times it was the fashion, even among the Free3s themselves, to derive all Free3 wisdom from 0astern

sources9 not long ago it was as generally denied that Free3 philosophy had any connection with ?rientalspeculation9 it seems probable, however, that the truth lies between these extremes.

1he 'onian intellectual movement does not stand alone. 't is only one of several sporadic indications of thewor3ing of some powerful mental ferment over the whole of the area comprised between the Ggean and

>orthern Hindostan during the eighth, seventh, and sixth centuries before our era. 'n these three hundred years,prophetism attained its apogee among the +emites of Palestine9 Noroasterism grew and became the creed of a

con-uering race, the 'ranic ryans9 6uddhism rose and spread with marvellous rapidity among the ryans ofHindostan9 while scientific naturalism too3 its rise among the ryans of 'onia. 't would be difficult to find

another three centuries which have given birth to four events of e-ual importance. ll the principal existingreligions of man3ind have grown out of the first threeK while the fourth is the little spring, now swollen into the

great stream of positive science. +o far as physical possibilities go, the prophet 5eremiah and the oldest 'onianphilosopher might have met and conversed. 'f they had done so, they would probably have disagreed a good

deal9 and it is interesting to reflect that their discussions might have %C& embraced -uestions which, at the

present day, are still hotly controverted.

1he old 'onian philosophy, then, seems to be only one of many results of a stirring of the moral and intellectuallife of the ryan and the +emitic populations of Western sia. 1he conditions of this general awa3ening were

doubtless manifold9 but there is one which modern research has brought into great prominence. 1his is theexistence of extremely ancient and highly advanced societies in the valleys of the 0uphrates and of the >ile.

't is now 3nown that, more than a thousandAperhaps more than two thousandAyears before the sixth century6.E., civili=ation had attained a relatively high pitch among the 6abylonians and the 0gyptians. >ot only had

painting, sculpture, architecture, and the industrial arts reached a remar3able development9 but in Ehaldl/a, atany rate, a vast amount of 3nowledge had been accumulated and methodi=ed, in the departments of grammar,

mathematics, astronomy, and natural history. Where such traces of the scientific spirit are visible, naturalisticspeculation is rarely far off, though, so far as ' 3now, no remains of an ccadian, or 0gyptian, philosophy,

properly so called, have yet been recovered.

Feographically, Ehald/a occupied a central position among the oldest seats of civili=ation. Eommerce, largely

aided by the intervention of those colossal pedlars, the PhQnicians, had brought Ehald/a into connection withall of them, for a thousand years before the epoch at present under consideration. %*& nd in the ninth, eighth,and seventh centuries, the ssyrian, the depositary of Ehald/an civili=ation, as the ;acedonian and the Roman,

at a later date, were the depositaries of Free3 culture, had added irresistible force to the other agencies for the

wide distribution of Ehald/an literature, art, and science.

' confess that ' find it difficult to imagine that the Free3 immigrantsAwho stood in somewhat the same relation to

the 6abylonians and the 0gyptians as the later Fermanic barbarians to the Romans of the 0mpireAshould nothave been immensely influenced by the new life with which they became ac-uainted. 6ut there is abundant

direct evidence of the magnitude of this influence in certain spheres. ' suppose it is not doubted that the Free3went to school with the ?riental for his primary instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic9 and that +emitic

theology supplied him with some of his mythological lore. >or does there now seem to be any -uestion about thelarge indebtedness of Free3 art to that of Ehald/ea and that of 0gypt.

6ut the manner of that indebtedness is very instructive. 1he obligation is clear, but its limits are no less definite.>othing better exemplifies the indomitable originality of the Free3s than the relations of their art to that of the

?rientals. @ar from being subdued into mere imitators by the technical excellence of their teachers, they lost notime in bettering the instruction they received, using their models as mere stepping stones on the way to those

unsurpassed and unsurpassable achievements which are all their own. 1he shibboleth of rt is %:& the human

figure. 1he ancient Ehald/ans and 0gyptians, li3e the modern 5apanese, did wonders in the representation ofbirds and -uadrupeds9 they even attained to something more than respectability in human portraiture. 6ut their

utmost efforts never brought them within range of the best Free3 embodiments of the grace of womanhood, or of

the severer beauty of manhood.

't is worth while to consider the probable effect upon the acute and critical Free3 mind of the conflict of ideas,

social, political, and theological, which arose out of the conditions of life in the siatic colonies. 1he 'onianpolities had passed through the whole gamut of social and political changes, from patriarchal and occasionally

oppressive 3ingship to rowdy and still more burdensome mobshipAno doubt with infinitely elo-uent and copious

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argumentation, on both sides, at every stage of their progress towards that arbitrament of force which settles

most political -uestions. 1he marvellous speculative faculty, latent in the 'onian, had come in contact with;esopotamian, 0gyptian, PhQnician theologies and cosmogonies9 with the illuminati of ?rphism and the

fanatics and dreamers of the ;ysteries9 possibly with 6uddhism and Noroasterism9 possibly even with 5udaism.nd it has been observed that the mutual contradictions of antagonistic supernaturalisms are apt to play a large

part among the generative agencies of naturalism.

1hus, various external influences may have contributed to the rise of philosophy among the 'onian Free3s of the

sixth century. 6ut the assimilative %!& capacity of the Free3 mindAits power of Helleni=ing whatever ittouchedAhas here wor3ed so effectually, that, so far as ' can learn, no indubitable traces of such extraneous

contributions are now allowed to exist by the most authoritative historians of Philosophy. >evertheless, ' thin3 itmust be admitted that the coincidences between the Heracleito7stoical doctrines and those of the older Hindu

philosophy are extremely remar3able. 'n both, the cosmos pursues an eternal succession of cyclical changes. 1hegreat year, answering to the Jalpa, covers an entire cycle from the origin of the universe as a fluid to its

dissolution in fireA4Humor initium, ignis exitus mundi,4 as +eneca has it. 'n both systems, there is immanent in

the cosmos a source of energy, 6rahma, or the Logos, which wor3s according to fixed laws. 1he individual soulis an efflux of this world7spirit, and returns to it. Perfection is attainable only by individual effort, through ascetic

discipline, and is rather a state of painlessness than of happiness9 if indeed it can be said to be a state of anything,

save the negation of perturbing emotion. 1he hatchment motto 4'n EQlo uies4 would serve both Hindu and

+toic9 and absolute -uiet is not easily distinguishable from annihilation.

Noroasterism, which, geographically, occupies a position intermediate between Hellenism and Hinduism, agreeswith the latter in recogni=ing the essential evil of the cosmos9 but differs from both in its intensely

anthropomorphic personification of the two antagonistic principles, to the one of which it ascribes all the good9and, to the other, all the evil. %"& 'n fact, it assumes the existence of two worlds, one good and one bad9 the

latter created by the evil power for the purpose of damaging the former. 1he existing cosmos is a mere mixtureof the two, and the 2last 8udgment2 is a root7and7branch extirpation of the wor3 of hriman.

NoteB(p. *"$.

1here is no snare in which the feet of a modern student of ancient lore are more easily entangled, than that which

is spread by the similarity of the language of anti-uity to modern modes of expression. ' do not presume tointerpret the obscurest of Free3 philosophers9 all ' wish is to point out, that his words, in the sense accepted bycompetent interpreters, fit modern ideas singularly well.

+o far as the general theory of evolution goes there is no difficulty. 1he aphorism about the river9 the figure of

the child playing on the shore9 the 3ingship and fatherhood of strife, seem decisive. 1he expresses with singular aptness, the cyclical aspect of the one process of organic evolution in individual plants

and animalsK yet it may be a -uestion whether the Heracleitean strife included any distinct conception of thestruggle for existence. gain, it is tempting to compare the part played by the Heracleitean 2fire2 with that

ascribed by the moderns to heat, or rather to that cause of motion of which heat is one expression9 and a littleingenuity might find a foreshadowing of the doctrine of the conservation of energy, in the saying that all the

%& things are changed into fire and fire into all things, as gold into goods and goods into gold.

Note#(p. :$.

Pope2s lines in theEssay on +an(0p. i. B*:7!$,

4ll are but parts of one stupendous whole,

Whose body >ature is, and Fod the soul.4

simply paraphrase +eneca2s 4-uem in hoc mundo locum deus obtinet, hunc in homine animusK -uod est illic

materia, id nobis corpus est.4 (0p. xv. B)$9 which again is a Latin version of the old +toical doctrine,

, .

+o far as the testimony for the universality of what ordinary people call 2evil2 goes, there is nothing better thanthe writings of the +toics themselves. 1hey might serve as a storehouse for the epigrams of the ultra7pessimists.

Heracleitus (circaC 6.E.$ says 8ust as hard things about ordinary humanity as his disciples centuries later9 and

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there really seems no need to see3 for the causes of this dar3 view of life in the circumstances of the time of

lexander2s successors or of the early 0mperors of Rome. 1o the man with an ethical ideal, the world, includinghimself, will always seem full of evil.

Note)(p. :#$.

' use the well73nown phrase, but decline responsibility for the libel upon 0picurus, whose doctrines were far lesscompatible with existence in a style %& than those of the Eynics. 'f it were steadily borne in mind that theconception of the 2flesh2 as the source of evil, and the great saying 2'nitium est salutis notitia peccati,2 are the

property of 0picurus, fewer illusions about 0picureanism would pass muster for accepted truth.

NoteC(p. :C$.

1he +toics said that man was , a rational, a political, and an altruistic orphilanthropic animal. 'n their view, his higher nature tended to develop in these three directions, as a plant tends

to grow up into its typical form. +ince, without the introduction of any consideration of pleasure or pain,whatever thwarted the reali=ation of its type by the plant might be said to be bad, and whatever helped it good9

so virtue, in the +toical sense, as the conduct which tended to the attainment of the rational, political, and

philanthropic ideal, was good in itself, and irrespectively of its emotional concomitants.

;an is an 4animal sociale communi bono genitum.4 1he safety of society depends upon practical recognition ofthe fact. 4+alva autem esse societas nisi custodia et amore partium non possit,4 says +eneca. ()e. ra,ii. #.$

Note*(p. :C$.

1he importance of the physical doctrine of the +toics lies in its clear recognition of the universality %B& of the

law of causation, with its corollary, the order of natureK the exact form of that order is an altogether secondaryconsideration.

;any ingenious persons now appear to consider that the incompatibility of pantheism, of materialism, and of

any doubt about the immortality of the soul, with religion and morality, is to be held as an axiomatic truth. 'confess that ' have a certain difficulty in accepting this dogma. @or the +toics were notoriously materialists andpantheists of the most extreme character9 and while no strict +toic believed in the eternal duration of the

individual soul, some even denied its persistence after death.


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of Neus in everything but the duration of his existence. nd, in my 8udgment, there is as little pride about it,

often as it serves for the text of discourses on stoical arrogance. Frant the stoical postulate that there is no goodexcept virtue9 grant that the per%)&fected wise man is altogether virtuous, in conse-uence of being guided in all

things by the reason, which is an effluence of Neus, and there seems no escape from the stoical conclusion.

Note:(p.:*$.

?ur 4pathy4 carries such a different set of connotations from its Free3 original that ' have ventured on usingthe latter as a technical term.

Note!(p. !$.

;any of the stoical philosophers recommended their disciples to ta3e an active share in public affairs9 and in the

Roman world, for several centuries, the best public men were strongly inclined to +toicism. >evertheless, thelogical tendency of +toicism seems to me to be fulfilled only in such men as Diogenes and 0pictetus.

Note"(p. !$.

4Eriticisms on the ?rigin of +pecies,4 !*). Collected Essays,vol. ii. p. ". %!").&

NoteB(p. !$.

?f course, strictly spea3ing, social life, and the ethical process in virtue of which it advances towards perfection,

are part and parcel of the general process of evolution, 8ust as the gregarious habit of in%C&numerable plantsand animals, which has been of immense advantage to them, is so. hive of bees is an organic polity, a society

in which the part played by each member is determined by organic necessities. ueens, wor3ers, and drones are,

so to spea3, castes, divided from one another by mar3ed physical barriers. mong birds and mammals, societiesare formed, of which the bond in many cases seems to be purely psychological9 that is to say, it appears to

depend upon the li3ing of the individuals for one another2s company. 1he tendency of individuals to over self7

assertion is 3ept down by fighting. 0ven in these rudimentary forms of society, love and fear come into play, and

enforce a greater or less renunciation of self7will. 1o this extent the general cosmic process begins to be chec3edby a rudimentary ethical process, which is, strictly spea3ing, part of the former, 8ust as the 2governor2 in a steam7engine is part of the mechanism of the engine.

NoteB(p. !B$.

+ee 4FovernmentK narchy or Regimentation,4 Collected Essays,vol. i. pp. )#A)!. 't is this form of political

philosophy to which ' conceive the epithet of 2reasoned savagery2 to be strictly applicable. %!").&

NoteBB(p. !#$.

4L2homme n2est -u2un roseau, le plus faible de la nature, mais c2est un roseau pensant. 'l ne faut %*& pas -ue

l2univers entier s2arme pour l2Scraser. ne vapeur, une goutte, d2eau, suffit pour le tuer. ;ais -uand l2universl2Scraserait, l2homme serait encore plus noble -ue ce -ui le tue, parce -u2il sait -u2il meurt9 et l2avantage -ue

l2univers a sur lui, '2univers n2en sait rien.4A!ens/es de !ascal.

NoteB#(p. !C$.

1he use of the word 4>ature4 here may be criticised.


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