JAMES THORNTON, j
; 1 33 and 41, High St., Oyford.1
DARWIN AND HEGEL
ETC.
DARWIN AND HEGEL
WITH OTHER PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES
BY
DAVID G. RITCHIE, M.A.
Fellow and Tutor of Jesus College, Oxford; Author of '" Darwinism and Politics,"
" The Principles of State Interference" etc.
SWAN SONNENSCHE1N & CO.
NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.
1893
SUTLER & TANNER,
THE SELWOOD PRINTING Woiucs,
FKOME, ANO LONDON.
G45486
PREFACE.
THE papers collected in this volume have pre
viously appeared in Mind, The Proceedings of the
Aristotelian Society, The Philosophical Review, The
Economic Review, The Political Science Quarterly,
The Annals of the American Academy of Political
and Social Science, and The International Journal of
Ethics ; and I have to thank the respective Editors
for their kindness and courtesy in permitting repub-
lication. The " Notes " at the end of the first and
third essays have not been printed before.
Corrections and alterations of varying importance
have been made ; but I have not attempted to give
these essays, written at different times, an appearance
of greater unity than belongs to them from the fact
that the diverse subjects are looked at from a common
point of view. I have put in the title of the volume
the title of the second essay, because it indicates
with sufficient emphasis what that point of view is ;
it expresses my endeavour to reconcile a qualified
acceptance of the general principles of that idealist
VI PREFACE.
philosophy which is based on Kantian criticism (but
which, at the same time, carries us back to Plato and
Aristotle) with a full recognition of the revolutionary
change in our intellectual universe which is due to
the historical method of studying ideas and institu
tions, and, in particular, to the influence of the bio
logical theory of natural selection.
" Idealism" and "Materialism" are commonly
spoken of as antagonistic types of philosophy ; and,
in a sense, they are, I have tried to show that one
form of idealism is quite compatible with that
materialistic monism which is now-a-days the work
ing hypothesis of every scientific explorer in every
department, whatever other beliefs or denials he
may, more or less explicitly and more or less consis
tently, superadd. Materialistic monism, it seems to
me, only becomes false when put forward as a com
plete philosophy of the universe, because it leaves
out of sight the conditions of human knowledge,
which the special sciences l may conveniently dis
regard, but which a candid philosophy cannot ignore.
It is too probable that my Eirenicon, like other
efforts at peacemaking, may only result in provoking
a twofold hostility, and that " Darwinians" and
" Hegelians " will both look on me as a heretic.
But I cannot, as yet, see any other way out of a
hopeless controversy than that towards which I
1 Including, perhaps, even Psychology, as that is commonly
understood. Cf. below, p. 104, and p. 9, note.
PREFACE. Vll
have been led, especially by the teaching of the late
Thomas Hill Green on the one side, and by the in
fluence of scientific friends on the other. And this
Idealist Evolutionism (if a label is necessary) seems
to me to give the best starting point for an examin
ation of the concrete problems of ethics and politics,
which are, after all, the most urgent difficulties with
which we have to deal. In venturing to trespass to
some extent on the proper domains of the economist,
the lawyer and the historian, I trust that lack of
special knowledge and special training has not led
me into grave errors. I consider such applications of
philosophical criticism to be at once the best test of
the value of general philosophical theories and the
most useful service which the student of philosophy
can render to those who are pursuing special studies.
I hope the " benevolent reader " will pardon this
brief explanation. I must not make it longer, lest
by preliminary prolixity I should only add to the
offence (as it is often supposed to be) of publishing
a few detached essays instead of waiting to inflict a
big treatise on the public. I will only ask those,
who may do me the honour of considering carefully
what I have to say, to remember that I wish these
papers, though written at intervals, to be taken as
a whole ; so that statements in one essay must be
understood as qualifying those in another. A cer
tain amount of repetition will perhaps be excused,
and may even be useful, if it serves to remind the
Vlll PREFACE.
reader of this unity of purpose. It is not possible
to put the whole of one's philosophic creed, especi
ally when it is but partially formulated, into every
page or into every article. In fact, a formula that
professed to exhaust the truth would excite very
reasonable suspicion.
OXFORD,
May ist, 1893.
CONTENTS.
I. ORIGIN AND VALIDITY ... . 1-3*
Origin supposed to determine worth, in popular
thought, i, 2, and in the "metaphysical" stage of re
flection, 3-6. The philosophical problem distinct from
the historical and psychological, 6-8. What is of most
permanent value in Kant's Critical Philosophy, 8-14-
The relation between Critical Philosophy (Theory of
Knowledge) and Speculative Metaphysics, 14, 15. Il
lustrations of the importance of distinguishing questions
of origin and validity, in Logic, 16-22. (Axioms, 17 ;
the Syllogism, 18-20 ; Connotation of proper names,
20 ; Analytic and synthetic judgments, 21 ; Inconceiv
ability of the opposite, 21, 22) ; in other philosophical
sciences that are concerned with Ideals, 22-25 » m
Esthetics, 25, 26; in Ethics, 26, 27 ; in Politics, 27-30 ;
in Religion, 30, 31.
NOTE ON HEREDITY AS A FACTOR IN KNOW
LEDGE ..... . 32-37
The biological controversy between Lamarckian and
Weismannite, 32-35. Application to problem of know
ledge, 35. Relation of the Evolution theory to the
Kantian theory of knowledge, 36, 37.
X CONTENTS.
PAGES
II. DARWIN AND HEGEL ..... 38-76
Philosophy always affected by the predominant science
of the time, 38-41. The idea of development, especi
ally in biology, prevalent during Hegel's youth, 41-44.
His preference for Emanation over Evolution, 44 ; Ele
ment of truth in this — the lower must be explained by
the higher, 45-47. Hegel to be "read backwards";
illustration from categories of " Becoming " and " Simi
larity," 47-49. Risk of misunderstanding, when a
thought process is stated as if it were a time process,
50, 51. Hegel's mode of exposition due to (i) influence
of idea of Emanation, and (2) of his interpretation of
history, especially of the history of philosophy, 51-53.
Hegel's philosophy of nature, 53, 54. How it could
be adjusted to Darwin's theory of natural selection, 55,
56. The seeming irrationality of nature = the indefinite
variability presupposed by natural selection, 57, 58.
Modern science assumes that nature is not alogical,
59. Restored value of the Aristotelian concept of Final
Cause, 60-62.
Application of " natural selection " in ethics : Utili
tarianism corrected, 62, 63. History in the light of
natural selection — a dialectic movement, clearer in the
higher stages, 63-66. Mr. S. Alexander's analysis of
Punishment, at once Darwinian and Hegelian, 66, 67.
Hegel agrees with evolutionist ethics (i) in denying an
ultimate distinction between " ought " and " is " — with
some exaggeration, 68 ; " The Real is the Rational,"
69-72 ; (2) in repudiating individualism in ethics, 72, 73.
Self-consciousness the highest category, 74. Hegel's
system as a hypothesis ; reconciliation of " materialis
tic" science with "mystical" theology, 75, 76.
CONTENTS. XI
PAGES
III. WHAT is REALITY? 77-I05
Ambiguity in the term: (I.) "Real" used for every
actual psychical event (subjective reality), but generally
with suggestion of an objective reference, 77-80. (II.)
Objective reality tested by coherence in our own ex
perience and by coherence of our own experience with
that of others, 80. Are feelings more real than
thoughts? 81-83. Is the real what occupies space?
83, 84. (III.) Difference between reality for ordinary
belief and for science, 84, 85. The inconceivability of
the opposite as a test, 86, 87. Identity of thought
and being ; in what sense assumed by science, 87-89.
Ordinary antithesis of thought and things, 89, 91.
Matter, 90. (IV.) The " real " circle = the perfect circle,
91, 92. (V.) " Real," in the ethical sense, opposed to
"sham," 92, 93. What is an atom ? 93, 94. The "other"
of thought, 94, 95. Distinction of thought and things
falls within thought, 95, 96.
Objection that the individual alone is the real, 96.
What is the " individual?" (i) Everything that can be
spoken of as one ? 96, 97. (2) That which can be ex
pressed by a singular term ? 97, 98. (3) Are qualities
real as individual sensations ? 98. (4) Is the conscious
self the "real?" What is the "real person"? 98-101.
(5) The transcendental ego or unity of the cosmos?
101. Thought implies a subject, 101, 102. The ulti
mate subject of the logical judgment, 102, 103. The
self as subject and as object, 103, 104. Psychology and
Philosophy, 104. What is implied in saying, e.g., that
Matter is the potentiality of Thought, 105.
NOTE ON LOGICAL NECESSITY . . 106-108
(i) The necessity of the causal nexus, 106 ; (2) The
necessity of axioms, 106, 107 ; (3) Necessity in regard
to human actions, 108.
Xll CONTENTS.
PAGES
IV. ON PLATO'S PHMDO 109-150
(I.). Plato's "myths," how to be understood, 109-
126. The doctrines of (i) Recollection, 110-114; (2)
Pre-existence, 114-117; (3) Transmigration, 117-120.
The " myths " to be understood as approximations to
the truth, 120-123. Distinction between Platonism, as
interpreted and developed by Aristotle, and as it may
have existed for the mind of Plato himself, 123-126.
(II.). The arguments in the Phcedo : (i) (a} The
alternation of opposites, 127-129 ; and (b~) Recollection,
129. (2) The soul simple, not composite (Plato does
not say it is a substance), 130-135. Objection that the
soul is a Harmony, 135-137. (3) The soul partakes in
the Idea of life, 137, 138. Relation of the soul to the
Ideas, 138-142. The Arguments of the Phtzdo com
pared with those of the Phcedrus, 142 ; and with those
of the Republic, 143-146.
(III.). In what sense did Plato hold the immortality
of the soul? 146-150.
V. WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? . . . 151-177
(I.). Prof. Cunningham's objections to the use of the
terms " cause " and " law " in economics, 151. Ricardo's
analysis of Rent involves the conception of " cause,"
Z52> ltt- {Note on Causation, 153, 154.] (i) What is
the nature of scientific laws? 155, 156. (2) What is the
position of economics among the sciences? 156-159.
(3) In what sense there can be laws in a historical
science, 159, 160. All scientific laws, in different de
grees, abstract and hypothetical, 160-163. False anti
thesis between deductive and inductive (or historical)
methods, 163-165.
CONTENTS.
PAGES
(II.). Difference between physical and sociological
laws : the element of conscious purpose in human
phenomena, 165-167. Illustration from history of
language, 167-169 ; from history of political institutions,
169, 170. The volitional element (moral factor) in
economic evolution, 170-173. The " spiritual principle "
in Nature, 173.
(III.). Economic laws, how related to moral laws,
174-177.
VI. LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY . . 118-195
Locke derives property from labour, 178, 179. Rela
tion of the Law of Nature to the positive laws of par
ticular societies, 180-185. The theories of Hobbes and
Locke viewed in the light of the events of their life
time, 185, 1 86. Their theories not to be treated as
historical but as logical, 187. Logical difficulties in
Locke's theory of property, 188, 189. Property the
product, not of individual, but of social labour, 190-192.
Locke's theory no real improvement on the theories of
Grotius and Puffendorf, the distribution of wealth de
pending on arrangements (" compacts ") of particular
societies, 193-195-
VII. CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE HISTORY OF THE SOCIAL
CONTRACT THEORY .. 196-226
(I.). The theory held by some Greek Sophists and
by Epicurus, not by Plato and Aristotle, 196-199.
(II.). In the middle ages the idea of a contract be
tween king and people due to influence of Old Testa
ment and of Roman Law, 200-203. This form of the
theory the popular one in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, 203-205.
XIV CONTENTS.
PAGES
(III.). Locke's theory not that of a contract between
king and people, 205, 206 ; but essentially the same as
Rousseau's, 206-208 ; an unconscious return to that of
the Greek Sophists, 208, 209 ; this change in the form
of the theory connected with Hooker, 210-212 ; the
Scottish Covenant, 212,213; the "Mayflower" com
pact, 213,214; Grotius, 215; Milton, 215, 216. Hobbes
reverses the application of the theory, 216, 217.
Spinoza's criticism of Hobbes, 217. Was Hobbes in
consistent ? 218. Locke's difference from Hobbes and
similarity to Rousseau, 219, 220. Rousseau's theory
adopted by Kant, 220-222 ; and by Fichte, 222, 223.
(IV.) Criticism of the theory by Hume, 223, 224 ;
by Bentham, 224. Decay of the theory through growth
of the historical spirit, 224, 225 ; Burke quoted, 225.
Relative truth of the theory recognised by Hegel and
M. Fouillee, 226.
VIII. ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY . 227-264
Austin's definitions of Sovereignty and Law, 227.
These conceptions peculiar to English Jurisprudence,
228, 229. Historical objections, 229, 230. Attempts to
obviate them, 230-233. Value of analytic method, 231 ;
but danger of abstraction, 232, 233.
Austin's conception applied to the British Constitu
tion, 234-242. Necessity of distinguishing between the
nominal, legal, and political sovereigns, as Locke does,
238, 239. Hobbes's theory of sovereignty, 239, 240.
The ultimate political sovereign not a determinate body
of persons, 241, 242. Austin's conception of legal
sovereignty applied to the United States of America :
difficulty in finding the "determinate persons," 242-
246. The nominal sovereign not always a determinate
person or body of persons, 246, 247. Mr. Spencer's
CONTENTS. XV
PAGES
objections to the view that Sovereignty is unlimited,
247-249. Austin's conception of sovereignty as un
limited avoids confusions such as those of Bluntschli,
249, 250.
The ultimate political sovereign — " Opinion " or
" Sovereignty of the people," 250-252. Distinction be
tween sovereignty de facto and de jure, 252, 253. How
the "General Will" may express itself, 253-255.
Confusion about " tyranny of majority" and "rights of
minority," 255, 256. Public opinion, 257. Might and
Right, 258-260.
Limits of political sovereignty, 260-264. Sovereignty
in its external aspects, 260-262. International law, 262,
263. The problem of the Philosophy of History, 263,
264.
IX. THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES . . . 265-285
In the past, majorities have had to struggle for free
dom, 265, 266. As against modern democracy, rights
are claimed for minorities, 266-268. Distinction be
tween authority of the few in scientific and in practical
matters, 269, 270. Difference in practical matters with
respect to means and ends, 271, 272. Difficulties in
schemes for representation of minorities, 273, 274.
Public opinion, its power and organs, 275. The right
of spreading opinions, 276, 277. Toleration, and use of
discussion, 277-280. Prof. Bryce on " the tyranny of
the majority" and "the fatalism of the multitude," 280-
282. Resistance to law never a right, sometimes a
duty, 282-284. Individual responsibility in regard to
opinions, 284, 285.
DARWIN AND HEGEL:
WITH OTHER PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES.
I.
ORIGIN AND VALIDITY.1
WHEN Aristotle, after tracing the progress of human
society from the patriarchal family to the city-state
of the Hellenes, says that the city-state comes into
being for the sake of life, but has its being for the
sake of the good life, he gives an admirable illustra
tion of a distinction, which he is always ready to
recognise, between the origin of anything (its ma
terial cause — e£ o$) and its final cause (re'Ao?), i.e.,
the end which it comes to serve : this latter must be
known if we are to know the true nature of a thing
(f\ <^e <j)va-i$ re'Ao? «rr/). This distinction has not lost
its significance, though it has been overlooked in
many philosophical and other controversies. The
question that sometimes arises in social circles which
are careful of their dignity: " Who is so-and-so ?"
is frequently solved by consultation of the Peerage
or, at a lower elevation, of some old lady : and the
oracle answers by telling who his great-grandfather
or great-grandmother was, the value of a man (or
1 Reprinted from Mind, Vol. XIIL, No. 49 (1888).
D. H. B
2 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
woman) for certain purposes of society being sup
posed to depend not on what he himself is, but on
what some ancestor had the reputation of being.
Pride of birth is, indeed, sometimes supported by
the scientific doctrine of heredity, though it is apt
to be forgotten that the kind of eminence which has
qualified men in times past for elevation to the
peerage has not always been such as to make the
transmission of it desirable in the interests of the
whole social organism as that now is. And, further,
it is forgotten that, if a man's great-great-grandfather
was a really great person, the man is probably only in
respect of one-sixteenth part of himself the heredi
tary representative of that ancestor. And, yet again,
it is forgotten that not merely inherited capacity,
but a favourable environment in which it can be
exercised, is requisite for the production of the best
type of individual ; and that such favourable en
vironment is not always provided by an atmosphere
of adulation and the absence of the stimulus to in
dustry. The popular respect for pedigrees involves
to a great extent the confusion of origin and worth.
11 He is nobody" means, being translated, he is with
out father or mother — of note : and when such a
person really impresses the world, it is often found
expedient to discover for him some dignified descent,
in order to satisfy the popular prejudice. This
prejudice has invaded more important spheres. The
great men, not of Hellas only, came to be looked on
as the sons of gods and demigods. People have
found it difficult to believe that those, whom they
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 3
felt to be immeasurably above them, could be born
of ordinary parents and according to the ordinary
laws of human generation.
There are many estimable persons who derive
great comfort from abusing metaphysics ; and it is a
pity that they should not be able to indulge their
inclinations in a harmless way. Therefore it would
be desirable if we could mark off a certain meaning
of "metaphysics" and "metaphysical" in which
they shall denote what is bad, reserving the liberty
to employ these terms also for something that is not
only unobjectionable, but necessary. Let us say
then that, from an Idealist point of view, we are
ready to admit all the hard things that Comte has said
of the old Ontologies, and to declare that we are as
anxious as he to eliminate the influence of them
from theory and practice ; but that we consider such
clearing of the ground will be even more effectually
carried out, if we do not shirk an investigation of
the conditions under which knowledge and nature
and conduct are possible. Nay, we are prepared to
argue that just those persons who disclaim meta
physics are sometimes the most apt to be infected
with the disease they profess to abhor — and not to
know when they have it.
One of the chief characteristics of the "meta
physical " stage of thought is its anxiety to vindicate
the value of moral and other ideas by tracing them
back to an origin which can be regarded as in itself
great and dignified, whether the greatness and
4 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
dignity be such as come from the clearness of reason
or such as is supposed to come from the darkness of
mystery. Thus, the true religion has been repre
sented as a primitive revelation from which man
afterwards fell away. " Degraded savages" have
been supposed to be all degraded in the literal sense
—degenerate from an originally better condition.
There has been a preference for regarding man " as
a fallen archangel, not as an elevated ape." The
natural rights of man, i.e., those rights which it is
felt man ought to have guaranteed to him in a well-
ordered society, have been thought of, or at least
spoken of, as if they had been originally possessed
by him and stolen away by the wickedness of tyrants
and oppressors. The poet uses the language of
such " Vorstellungen" to express ideas : and so we
find Heine saying that the Holy Spirit " renews
ancient rights " (erneut das alte Recht\ Reform has
been again and again brought in under the guise of
restoration, sometimes indeed (as in the struggles of
the English Parliament in the seventeenth century)
with some degree of historical truth. So also with
regard to the individual mind. Ideas, whether in
logic or in morals, which are of peculiar importance,
have been called "innate," They have been "im
planted by God (or Nature) in our breasts." We
have only to look deep enough to find them beneath
the super-imposed crust of prejudice, experience and
conventional belief. The voice of God and Nature
may be heard if we go back to primitive simplicity :
and thus we have the " noble savage" of eighteenth
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 5
century imagination and the pseudo-Platonism of
Wordsworth's " Ode on Intimations of Immortality
from Recollections of Early Childhood." But very
little can be found by the searcher after primitive,
uncorrupted intuitions, either in the infant or in the
savage, except what he manages to read into their
undeveloped minds out of his own theories. Yet
the temptation is strong to regard the inexplicable
(or at least the unexplained), the unanalysable (or
at least the unanalysed), with peculiar veneration,
and to feel jealousy and suspicion of any attempt to
examine the elements and origin of anything that is
valued or admired.
" I ask not proud philosophy to teach me what thou art,"
says Campbell, as if the colours of the rainbow
became less beautiful when we knew scientifically
how they arose, than they seemed when supposed
to be provided by a mechanical miracle at the dis-
embarcation of Noah. To the poet, certainly, the
physical cause of the rainbow is less attractive than
its use as the symbol of a message of peace and
promise. But such feelings are out of place when
they intrude themselves, as they sometimes do, into
the estimate of the truth of a scientific theory. The
prejudice against the Darwinian theory implies that,
if the higher organism be the product of the lower,
the higher loses in worth and dignity, as if " man
came from a beast" implied " therefore man is only
a beast." The prejudice against anthropological
investigation of the origin of religious ideas and
6 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
customs and of institutions such as marriage has a
similar source — a prejudice to be found even amongst
those who have themselves done notable service in
the application of comparative and historical methods
to the study of human society and ideas. It is sup
posed that religion would lose all meaning if even
its highest forms had an ancestry so low as fetish-
worship, and that marriage would lose its ethical
value if " primitive marriage " turned out to be a
euphemism for promiscuous sexual relations.1
Perhaps, however, there is an element of truth in
the suspicion with which scientific analysis is regarded
by most poets and by some philosophers. It is a
true instinct which warns us, that we have not suffi
ciently disposed of a subject when we have given
an historical account of how it came to be what it
is : but this takes a false form, when it becomes a
denial of the historical account. As against the
" metaphysical " theories of Nature, Innate Ideas,
Inexplicable Intuitions (which may happen to
be only local or personal prejudices), the scientific
methods of analysis and theories of evolution may
be completely accepted, and it may yet be main
tained that the real importance of ideas in logic, in
ethics or in religion is not affected, though it has
been shown that they have a history in the minds
of the race and of the individual. This history is
1 The theory of an original " promiscuity " is rendered ex
tremely doubtful by the habits of many of the higher animals.
But if such theories were completely proved, they would decide
nothing as to the social and ethical questions of our day.
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. J
important for our knowledge, and may alter many
things in the way in which ideas have been accepted
and institutions regarded ; but, over and above this
natural history, we have the task of philosophy — of
" metaphysics " in the sense in which the world never
can and never must dispense with it. This is,
of course, a proposition which may be disputed.
Either it may be denied that we need anything
more than an explanation of how things have come
to be, in order rightly to understand what they are,
or it may be denied that we can discover any an
swer to the questions which we inevitably find our
selves asking after the sciences have spoken their
last word. To the latter position (that of the Posi-
tivist) the objection is the same as that which may
be made to all theories of absolute phenomenalism :
How can you know the limitations of the mind,
unless you who are limited are also in some way
outside your limitation? It may be said: "We
find out our limitations only too surely by beating
fruitlessly against the bars of our prison-house."
But why do we do so ? Why have mankind always
done so, if it is not from the instinct that a larger
life is their natural one, in the sense of being their
due ? " Yes," it may be said, " but we learn wisdom
with time and shall give up trying to avoid the in
evitable." But how, if in every step of advance
made within the limits, there are already involved
assumptions which imply that we in some way set
our own limits ? With the complete sceptic it is
impossible to argue : he must be left to doubt his
8 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
own scepticism, and so to contradict himself. As
sume the validity of the processes of scientific
knowledge. Assume, as the mathematician does,
the absolute certainty of his processes and of his
results, so far as they conform to his processes.
Assume, as the student of nature does, the relative
certainty of his methods and results. How can we
make these assumptions about the necessities of
thought, about space, about the orderliness of the
physical universe? J. S. Mill boldly faced this
objection to the satisfactoriness of psychological
analysis : he denied the certainty of mathematics,
and based the most trustworthy of inductive pro
cesses upon the least certain — the inductio per enu-
merationem sitnplicem. But this mode of defence
really leads to a complete scepticism or to a com
plete surrender of the problem to be solved.
The lasting and permanent contribution of Kant
to philosophy is his recognition of what the real
problem of the theory of knowledge is, and what
are the conditions of its solution. Assuredly there
are different interpretations of Kant and different
estimates of the relative importance of different parts
of his system : but I consider that the point on which
we must all always go " back to Kant " and on which
we cannot go back behind him, if we are profitably
to face the problems of philosophy now, is his con
ception of a " transcendental proof," and his view of
the a priori element in all knowledge. The Kantian
recognition of an a priori element in knowledge has
almost nothing in common with psychological theo-
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 9
ries of intuitionism, which are only revivals or sur
vivals of the old " metaphysical " (in the bad sense)
doctrines of innate ideas. The name a priori is
unfortunate because it suggests a reference to time,
which is irrelevant and misleading. Kant does not
mean that the individual begins with certain mental
forms and then goes on to fill them up with a content
derived from experience. If that were the a priori
theory, as it is often supposed to be, it would be a
theory very easy to refute, and a very absurd de
lusion to maintain. " The baby new to earth and
sky " does not start with a knowledge of geometrical
or other axioms. The psychologist has every right
in saying that knowledge begins as sensation. That
is true as a matter of mental history. He is only
wrong when he goes on to say that knowledge is
nothing but sensation and the products of sensation,
unless in the term "products" (or any equivalent term)
he has tacitly implied the recognition of thought as
what makes the development of knowledge out of
sensation possible. Kant's individualist mode of
treating the problem of knowledge certainly seems
to countenance a psychological x interpretation. But
so far as it does, that must be put aside as the per
ishable part of Kant's theory. I may be interpret
ing wrongly ; but I take the essence of the transcen
dental proof to be what I am going to state, and I
cannot see that such a proof admits of any refutation,
1 If the meaning of Psychology were so extended as to cover
Kant's theory of knowledge, that would involve an inconvenient
deviation from the general use of the word.
IO ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
except from the consistent sceptic, who, as said
before, must be left to refute himself. It is not en
tirely a discovery of Kant's : Plato and Aristotle
were at least on the verge of it ; and the various
systems of Metaphysical Idealism may all be con
sidered as, amid many errors, feeling after it.
If knowledge be altogether dependent on sensation,
knowledge is impossible. But knowledge is possible,
because the sciences exist. Therefore knowledge is
not altogether dependent on sensation. It is no
refutation of this argument to say : " Here is a his
tory of the genesis of knowledge from sensation " ;
because the argument is not a statement of a fact
in psychology (psychogenesis), but is entirely logical.
The denial of it involves all our experience in
contradiction. That is the ultimate argument, and,
as we have said, it can be denied only by the com
plete sceptic.
What this non-sensational element is, must be
discovered by taking the different stages and kinds
of knowledge separately. And there is no reason
why Kant should be right at every step here. The
details of the Kantian philosophy may come to have
little more than an antiquarian interest. The
simplest act of knowledge is the judgment. Judging
involves comparison. Comparison requires that the
different sensations should be held together in unity.
(This follows logically without any reference to
psychology, though psychological experience may
well come in as a test.) If I say " It (i.e., anything
what is presented to my senses) is warm," I am
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. I I
asserting an identity along with difference, as exist-
ing for me. One sensation could make no know
ledge, nor one series of uniform sensations ; nor a
series of different sensations, unless they could be
brought together for comparison, and this bringing
together cannot be actual, but must be ideal, i.e., a
Self is implied in the simplest act of knowledge. If
it is said, " It is true that as we know now, a con
scious self is implied in our knowledge, but that
conscious self is the result of a long process "•
that may be accepted (or not) as a true statement
of the history of mental development ; but that
does not do away with the logical force of the
argument. It is not asserted that at an elementary
stage human beings have any conception of self-
consciousness or any word for it, nor that they
have reflected on it, but only that the self-conscious
ness must be there potentially, implicitly. " But what
about the lower animals ? If we cannot draw a
hard and fast line between lower and higher, is not
the recognition that man may be developed from
lower animal forms fatal to the recognition of a
non-sensational element in human knowledge ? "
To this it may be answered : (i) All inferences
about the " knowledge" possessed by the lower
animals are rendered extremely uncertain, because
we have no means whatever of communicating with
them by language, and consequently interpret their
actions on the analogy of externally similar actions
done by ourselves. All tales about the cleverness
of dogs, etc., are full of unscientific anthropomor-
12 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
phism. It is well known how difficult it is fairly
to interpret the ideas of lower human races, because
of the imperfections of their language. When
language is wanting, the difficulty becomes in
superable. (2) There seems no objection to
admitting that, so far as lower animals possess
anything that can be called knowledge, i.e., so far
as they can be imagined actually to make judgments,
as in applying human analogies to them we always
suppose them to do, so far they must have a con
sciousness of a self, though at a lower and less
explicit stage. If we say their life is one of mere
sensation, and yet ascribe to them a power of
making judgments, their " sensation " must be a
sort of " obscure thinking."
Thus, when all has been said that can be said by
physiology and psychology about the way in which
thought arises out of sense, this, however true as a
statement of historical facts, does not solve the pro
blem of what knowledge is, unless it be regarded as
a process in which consciousness (thought) is coming
to itself. What we find at the higher stage is no
new element suddenly inserted alongside of other
elements, nor is it a mere chemical product of
elements different from it (chemical analogies lie
at the base of many current psychological theories),
but it is what we are logically bound to regard as
present throughout, though only fully realised and
known at the higher stages. If it be said that this
is only importing a mystical metaphysics into what
was already clear, then we must answer that with-
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 13
out this mystical metaphysics the theory was not
clear, because it could only be expressed by the
use of a number of terms which had not been
explained. It is sometimes thought that, by saying
" The lower is potentially the higher," or " contains
the potency and promise of the higher," all has been
said that need be said. But what is meant by
saying "A (e.g., the acorn) is potentially B (e.g., the
oak")? If it merely means " Here you have A,
afterwards you will have B," it would be better
simply to say so ; for then it would be made
obvious that no explanation of B has been given,
and that neither A nor B is understood. "A is
potentially B," if it means anything, must mean
that in some way A already is B, and that B is
needed to explain A. The late G. H. Lewes
was not prejudiced in favour of old philosophies,
but he most fully recognised the fact that we can
only understand the lower from the point of view
of the higher : " We can only understand the
Amoeba and the Polype by a light reflected from
the study of Man." * So that even within the
sciences it is not really possible to "begin at the
beginning." The attempt to do so will generally
mean that some dimly accepted view about the
"end" is influencing the observations of the begin
ning ; for, as Lewes reminds us, " our closest
observation is interpretation." Even for the study
of origins an examination of the end or most
complete state as it exists is not superfluous, and
1 Study of Psychology, p. 122.
14 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
such an examination, apart from historical methods,
must be analytic, or, in Kant's phrase, critical.
Before we proceed to ask what history tells us,
it may be worth while to ask what history can
tell us. By knowing what something was, we do
not always know what it is, sometimes only what
it (now) is not.
To discover the a priori element in knowledge,
i.e., that element wrhich, though known to us only
in connection with sense-experience, cannot be
dependent upon sense-experience for its validity,
is the business of a philosophical theory of know
ledge. And if we call that a part of Metaphysics,
it is a Metaphysics with which we cannot dispense.
Suppose that " Self-consciousness," " Identity,"
" Substance," " Cause," " Time," " Space," be
amongst the "Categories" so discovered, to arrange
these categories in a system, to see their relations
to one another and to the world of nature and of
human action, will be the business of Philosophy
or Metaphysics in a wider sense. " Speculative
Metaphysics," as distinct from Critical, we might
call it, because the method it must adopt can never
have the logical precision and certainty of the
Critical Method. The only test of the validity
of a system of Speculative Metaphysics must be
its adequacy to the explanation and arrangement
of the whole Universe as it becomes known to
us. Thus this Metaphysics can never be complete,
but must always be attempted anew by each thinker.
The Critical examination of the nature of knowledge
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 15
may logically precede any or all of the special
sciences, although it is only the advance of science
that has suggested the need of such an exami
nation ; but the Metaphysician in this second sense
can never be independent of any of the sciences or
of any branch of human knowledge or effort. They
are his material.1
To make knowledge possible there must (in
Green's phrase) be "a comparing and distinguishing
self" ; but since Time, though relatively a form is
yet also one of the contents of knowledge, this
self must in some way be independent of Time. I
know I am a series of experiences in Time. There
fore, in some way, I am not in Time — but an
eternal (i.e., time-less) self-consciousness. But the
Critical Philosophy can tell us nothing further, can
tell us nothing as to what this eternal self-conscious
ness is or how it is related to our individual selves,
which are the subject matter of Psychology. The
attempt to find some expression for this relation, i.e.,
to show how an eternal self-consciousness reveals
itself in Time and in Space is the business of
Speculative Philosophy or Metaphysics. That there
is an eternal self-consciousness we are logically com
pelled to believe, and that it is in some way present
in our individual selves ; but in what way is a
matter of speculation : and it is still quite com-
1 It will be seen, from this, that while ready to recognise a
distinction between Epistemology and Metaphysics, I recognise
no Metaphysics as sound which is not based upon Epistemology.
Ontology, as an independent science, is a sham science.
1 6 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
petent to any one who accepts the main result of
the critical examination of knowledge to maintain
that this latter problem is altogether insoluble ;
although it is a problem (or rather series of prob
lems) which we cannot leave alone, because we are
met by it at every step in our ordinary experience,
if we once begin to reflect on the meaning and
mutual relations of the conceptions we are obliged
to use.
It is not my present concern to give an exhaus
tive list of the a priori conceptions and principles
which are involved in ordinary knowledge and in
the procedure of scientific investigation and proof.
An Intuitionist Philosophy, which professes to get
at these principles by a simple introspection into the
contents of consciousness, may fairly be met with
the challenge to produce its list of intuitive prin
ciples. But if the term a priori be understood in
the way which has been explained above, no such
challenge can be justly made. It is only as ex
perience progresses that we can become fully aware
of and can formulate the conceptions and principles
which that experience logically involves. Only if
knowledge were completed could we know all that
knowledge implied : and it is only as knowledge
approximates to that apparently ever-receding goal
that we can enlarge our view of what has been
there implicitly from the first. Thus, in the very
simplest acts of thought the principle of Identity
and the principle of Contradiction (A is A ; A is
not not-A) are involved ; and yet it was late in the
I.J ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. IJ
history of mankind when the science of Logic was
first enabled to discover and formulate these prin
ciples. Nevertheless they are a priori in the sense
that without them all knowledge would be im
possible. So it is with the axioms of the science
of quantity. That " Things which are equal to the
same thing are equal to one another " is implied in
all the experience which Mill thought went to
prove the principle. Every carpenter who uses a
foot-rule, every barmaid who draws off half-a-pint,
implies the principle and acts on it, though totally
ignorant of the elements of Geometry. Similarly,
the rudest ideas about Nature imply the conception
of a Cosmos, of an order of nature, though that
order may include gods, demons, fairies, and goblins,
of whom the modern scientific man takes no account,
and may exclude gravitation, electricity, and other
forces which he has come to recognise. The prin
ciple that every event has a cause, i.e., is related to
some other event (or events) without which it would
not happen and with which it must happen, — the
two clauses of this definition of cause are sometimes
mistakenly separated as the principles of Causation
and Uniformity of Nature respectively, — is involved
in the mental action of the savage who hears the
thunder and looks round for an explanation, though
he may be quite wrong in his explanation, and though
it may be late in time before any human being comes
to reflect on the processes of experience and to
formulate its principles. But the history of how
men came to recognise Uniformity of Nature and
D. H. c
1 8 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
how their conceptions of Cause and of Nature have
varied is one thing : the logical character of the
presupposition of all inductive inference is another.
The former is a question of historical psychology ;
the latter is a question of philosophical criticism.
The proposition, " Every event must have a cause "
is not a priori because it convinces every person the
moment he understands it, but because no know
ledge of natural events is possible without a con
nection of them with other events as belonging to
one system of nature. That nature is a system is
the assumption underlying the earliest mythologies :
to fill up this conception is the aim of the latest
science. A capacity for discovering true causes
may be capable of development as the race
advances ; so may be a capacity for philosophical
analysis ; but the presupposition of all investigation
of causes cannot itself be derived from the experience
either of the individual or of the race.1
The question for the logician is not : " How have
I (or mankind generally) come to believe this ? "
That is a question for the psychologist and the socio
logist. The logical question is : " Why am I or any
one else justified in believing this ?" A confusion
between these two questions underlies Mill's famous
attack on the Syllogism. The essential and perma
nently significant portion of the Aristotelian doctrine
of the Syllogism is the recognition that all inference
(and a-vXXoyia-fjio? just means " inference ") implies a
1 See Note on " Heredity as a Factor in Knowledge " at the
end of this Essay.
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 19
Universal. As a psychological fact there may
(though even this may be questioned) be in our
minds a particular proposition and then immediately
afterwards another particular proposition suggested
by it. But, if the one can be described as an
inference from the other, we must be able to answer
the question, how we get the one from the other.
And the answer to the question must, if we
formulate it, take the form of a universal pro
position, of which, till we have to face the ques
tion, we may be perfectly unconscious, and it will
constitute the major premiss of the Aristotelian
Syllogism {Barbara or Darii being taken as
typical), the middle term being, in the scientific
inference, the cause or ground (sufficient reason) of
the conclusion. Thus the death of some one I
know may suggest to me my own mortality ; but
the reason of the inference is our common possession
of the attributes of human and so of animal life.
It is always with a question of validity that the
logician as such has to deal: "Are we justified in
inferring that ? " —not with the psychological pro
cess through which any particular person or persons
have gone in arriving at their beliefs. Psychological
introspection can, therefore, never solve logical
difficulties. The formula of the Syllogism (major
premiss, minor premiss, conclusion) is not an expo
sition of what actually takes place in any one's
mind, but a logical exposition of that to which any
actual inference must conform in order to be correct.
It would not even be accurate to say it is the form
2O ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
according to which the normal reasoner actually
reasons ; because a man may reason quite correctly
and be the normal reasoner, while quite unconscious
of logical analysis. The reasonings of the normal
reasoner are those which will conform best to the
strict syllogistic form when they are so analysed by
the logician. The incorrectness of an apparent
inference becomes clear, when the reasoner is com
pelled to formulate the universal according to which
he is reasoning though without being aware of it.
If he were fully aware of it, he could not commit
fallacies. If we were fully aware of everything that
every proposition implies, we could not assert false
propositions.
Take another logical illustration, a minor matter.
Mill says that proper names have no connotation.
It may be true enough that the name " John Smith "
suggests nothing to me or to you ; but, if I am a
philological ethnologist, it may suggest a good deal ;
if I have a friend of that name, it may suggest a
good deal more. These are matters of psychological
interest, and no definite answer independent of time,
place, circumstances and persons can be given. But
the name of an individual, not as a mere word, but
as the name of an individual, as appropriated (and
that is what "proper name " ought to mean) must
logically have an infinite connotation. That we can
say quite definitely, and that is the reason why the
proper name cannot be defined. Any given person
may be unable to say anything about any given
proper name ; whether he can or not is a matter of
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 21
fact. But logic has to do with the ideal possibilities
of definition. And we can answer quite certainly :
We never can exhaust the signification of the in
dividual.
The controversy whether mathematical judgments
are analytic or synthetic is of a similar kind. As a
psychological question it is a matter of degree, and,
in the case of arithmetic, will depend solely on the
extent to which a person has learned the multiplica
tion table, etc. This is one of the merely psycho
logical distinctions that intrude themselves into
Kant's theory of knowledge. Whether any pro
position conveys any new information to a person is
always a question which cannot be answered irrespec
tive of time, place, etc. In one sense nothing we
ever can learn is new, else we could not learn it : it
would be quite irrelevant to our already existing
knowledge. (This is the truth in the old Sophistic
paradox.) In this way all reasoning is reasoning in
a circle ; but it is a circle so large— as large as the
Universe — that we need be under no immediate fear
of completing it. To omniscience all propositions
must be analytic (identical). That is the ideal of
knowledge, and it is the standard by which all state
ments and all professed inferences are ultimately
judged. This amounts to saying, in other words,
that the inconceivability of the opposite is the ulti
mate test of all truth. But it is a test that we can
not safely apply in practice, except where we can be
perfectly sure that we have eliminated all risks of
ambiguity and have fully realised all the conditions
22 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
under which we are making an assertion. Thus we
can only apply it safely in very abstract sciences,
such as geometry. We know exactly what we
mean and what others will understand by a " straight
line " and by "enclosing a space": and therefore
we can quite certainly say, "Two straight lines can-
cannot enclose a space " ; because to suppose that
they do involves us in contradiction, and would
make us assert that the straight line was also not a
straight line. But if any one at the beginning of
this century had said, " It is inconceivable that a
message should be sent from London to New York
in a few seconds," his statement would only have
been correct if he had inserted the qualification :
" the modes of transmitting messages being such as
I know of " ; for then it would be true that we could
not really think of the carrier pigeon, being what we
know it to be, traversing space with such velocity.
Logic, then, is concerned not with what actually
goes on in the mind of any individual or of the
average individual. That is the business of psycho
logy. Logic is concerned with the rules or ideal
standards to which the mental processes of every
one must conform if they are to attain truth. Parallel
with logic there are at least two other "regulative"
philosophical sciences (branches of philosophy)—
concerned respectively with those rules or ideals
which must be fulfilled for the attainment of beauty
in art, and with those which must be fulfilled for the
realisation of goodness in conduct. The presup
position of knowledge was found to be the presence
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 23
of a Self which is eternal and which yet is never
completely realised in any one of us, and which thus
remains as an Ideal (Sollen) perpetually urging to its
realisation. If we approach the study of mankind
from the side of Nature, we find everywhere a
"groaning and travailing," not, as has been too
readily supposed, a universal pursuit of pleasure,
but a universal struggle and a seemingly hopeless
struggle to escape pain, whether the pain of physical,
emotional or intellectual suffering. A dispassionate
view of the process of evolution alone seems to leave
no escape from a philosophy of despair ; for, as the
struggle for existence eliminates some physical evils,
it intensifies the acuteness of emotional and intel
lectual desires, and increases the ever-recurring pain
that comes from the perpetual incapacity of satisfy
ing wants and cravings which grow with every
satisfaction. But, if the necessity of endeavouring
to explain how knowledge is possible compels us to
recognise an eternal Self ever demanding realisation,
may we not, looking back now from the standpoint
of the Ideal, regard all the blind struggle of Nature
as the lower and unconscious phases of this process
of the realisation of the eternal Self ? This identi
fication would be a hypothesis of Speculative Philo
sophy, and could not have the certainty of the mere
recognition of an eternal Self: but it is the theory
which seems best to explain all the phenomena, and
it does not conflict with any scientific fact, although
undoubtedly incapable of scientific verification.
From the side of origins the struggle seems vain,
24 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
and yet we can only pronounce it vain, because we
have in us an ideal standard by which we judge.
We can only know that the crooked is crooked if we
have an ideal of the straight ; we can only know
that the world is evil if we have in us an ideal of
absolute good. We know our ignorance, because
we have an ideal of perfect knowledge ; we know
the ugliness and discord of the world, because we
have an ideal of perfect beauty and harmony ; we
know its wickedness, because we have an ideal of a
perfected society ; we are conscious of sin, because
we know that our true self is God, from whom we
are severed. How these various ideals grow up in
the minds of mankind, and how their content varies
at different periods, are matters for the psychologist
and the historian. But why there are such ideals at
all can only be explained if we start from the side of
philosophical analysis — looking at things as a whole.
In saying that we have ideals of knowledge, of
beauty, of goodness, I most certainly do not mean
to assert that they are the same for all human
beings at all times and in all places : that would be
a very difficult proposition to maintain, in the light
of anthropology and history. The only thing that
is common to every reflecting and yet incomplete
consciousness is the presence of an ideal, confronting
the actual. The content of the ideal varies with
time, place, and person. The form of " ought to
be," as distinct from " is," is alone a priori ; and
it requires something more to explain it than a
" natural history " of ideals. The contradiction of
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 25
the actual by thought, which is involved in the very
existence of ideals, raises the whole question of the
relation of thought to nature — the one question
which, in all its various aspects, a speculative philo
sophy attempts to solve.
^Esthetics might, on grounds of etymology, be
considered most properly to be concerned with the
question, how we (whoever the " we " may be) have
come to judge this or that to be beautiful — which is
a question of psychology. But we want some name
for the philosophical science which attempts to solve
the question, why this or that is beautiful ; or ratner,
to put the question in a form that seems better to
avoid the assumptions of the old ontological meta
physics which we have discarded, why this or that
ought to be considered beautiful. For it will not do
to say : " That is beautiful which is generally con
sidered beautiful," since, least of all in matters of
artistic taste, is the person of taste ready to accept
the opinion of any chance persons. If we say, "That
ought to be considered beautiful which is considered
beautiful by the person of taste," we have only trans
ferred the ideal to the person, because then we mean
that he is the person whose judgment ought to be
accepted. He says " I now consider this beautiful,
and, if I am right, people will gradually come to
acknowledge it," i.e., he gives out his judgment as
his own, and yet not as a judgment of a mere sub
jective liking, but as one that has a claim to have an
objective validity — to be valid for all, if they could
only come to see as he sees. I am assuming the
26 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
person of taste to be a healthy-minded critic who
expects and wishes his judgments to be accepted
and does not pride himself on having a peculiar
taste, which no one except himself and his own
small set will ever share ; others may not share it
as yet, but unless he expects others to share it, his
judgment only claims a subjective validity, i.e., it
means only "This pleases me," not "This is beauti
ful." Neither in explaining the work of the artist
nor in explaining the judgment of the lover of art
can we leave out the conception of an ideal — an
ought to be. All the attempts to reduce this to a
statement of " what is " bring in the conception in
some concealed form.
Similarly in Ethics. If the moral law be ex
pressed as "that which the good man does" (as by
Mr. Leslie Stephen), then in " good man" we have
brought in the conception of ought which has been
eliminated from "law." How we (the race or the
individual) have come to think this or that right is
a matter for sociology and psychology — it would be
the history of moral ideas and the psychology of the
moral sentiments ; but these do not explain why
there should be any thinking right or wrong at all.
The old Intuitional Ethics assumes certain absolute
principles of right and wrong, and thus comes into
direct conflict with scientific investigations into the
origin of moral ideas. The theory of Idealism for
which I am contending only maintains that all ac
counts of the evolution of morality are inadequate
to supply a complete theory of Ethics, unless the
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 27
presence of an ideal to all human effort be recognised
as involved in the presence of the eternal Self which
any account of knowledge or conduct presupposes.
What the ideal at any time may be, i.e., the content
of the ideal, is a matter for historical investigation.
And it is on the evolution of this content that the
theory of natural selection has thrown so much
light.1 The ideal must vary, else progress would
be impossible. But there must be an ideal, a
judgment of -"ought," else morality would be im
possible.
• The same thing becomes clear when we pass to
Politics. Intuitions as to natural rights only prove
delusive. We cannot settle in that way what the
State ought to do and what not. As already said,
''natural rights " is a misleading phrase if supposed
to refer to some original rights of man ; practically it
can only mean "What man ought to have." So,
too, it is unhistorical and, what is worse, illogical to
say that society originated in a contract ; for contract
presupposes society. But there may be a very
good sense in saying that society ought to be
u contractual " (M. Fouillee's phrase2), i.e., that mem
bers of a good state ought to feel that the laws
which they obey are not the commands of an alien
force but are self-imposed, so that obedience to
them becomes the highest realisation of freedom.
Theories which treat the state as analogous to a
1 In the following essay I attempt to deal briefly with the rela
tion between idealism and evolutionist ethics. See p. 62 ff.
2 See below, p. 226.
28 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
natural organism err in an opposite way from those
which regard it as resulting from a contract. Theories
of contract state a question of value as if it were a
question of origin. Theories which apply the con
ceptions of organism and evolution to society as if
they were as adequate in politics as in biology,
while they may give a correct account of the origins
of society, leave us without a criterion by which to
judge of the goodness or badness of any social con
dition. The only logically available criterion would
be the ultimate success of any given society in the
struggle for existence. In practical politics we can
not wait for that ; we are safer with the Utilitarian
method. But why ? Just because it brings in a
standard of worth, though too narrowly conceived.
It estimates goodness by the end to which a society
tends, i.e., by reference to an ideal.
We have heard much lately of the historical
method in politics — so much that it is time to hear
something on the other side. The historical method
has done great services to the study of human
society in ridding us of the "metaphysical" fictions
of a Law of Nature, State of Nature, Original
Contract, Natural Rights, etc. ; but those who are
strongly possessed by the historical spirit are some
times disposed to think that, when they have shown
how an institution came into being, they have
said all that is worth saying on the matter. It is a
mistake to suppose that, because an institution now
serves certain purposes, it was created for these
purposes ; but, when we know how an institution
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 29
came into being, we have still, as practical persons,
to ask ourselves : " What purposes does it now
serve?"- — else we do not estimate it rightly. Be
cause the House of Lords was not invented as a
check on legislation, it does not follow that the
House of Lords is not a check on legislation — for
good or for evil. Because the English State never
at any moment in history selected a certain religious
body and gave it certain endowments and privileges,
it does not follow that the phrases " State Church,"
" Established Church " are altogether meaningless
as representing the present relation of the Church to
the State. And it is this present relation, and not
historical facts about the Church in the time of the
Heptarchy or the proceedings of Convocation in the
time of Henry VIII., which the practical politician
has to take into account. He is concerned with
value, not with origins. Again, when it is asked by
what right an individual owns half a county, history
may lead us back to the dissolution of the monas
teries, the Norman conquest, the Saxon invasion,
and so on, till we come to the first blue-painted
barbarian who stuck a rude spade into the ground,
half cleared from brushwood. But all this, however
interesting, is irrelevant to the question, how far
the present system of land tenure can be justified or
not. Existing rights may be explained by reference
to the past, but can only be justified if it is shown that
they subserve social well-being now and are likely to
do so in the future. Similarly with the whole ques
tion of endowments. " What was" must not blind
30 ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. [l.
us to "what ought to be," though of course the in
convenience of disturbing customs and expectations,
where that is unnecessary, has always to be taken
into account. The practical reformer will move, as
far as possible, in the line of least resistance. But
it is a pity when a scientific theory or the spirit of
antiquarianism interferes with the removal of abuses.
Philosophy performs a useful function in criticising
the conceptions which are being used : in default of
a sound metaphysics, strong practical instincts and
a sense of humour are the best safeguards.
Lastly, I must refer to the application of this
distinction between questions of origin and of
validity in the domain of Religion. The theory of
knowledge obliges us to assume the existence of an
eternal Self-consciousness partially revealed in our
selves. This, which is the ideal of knowledge, of
beauty, of goodness, is the God of religion. It is
not asserted that there is an intuitive knowledge of
the existence of one God. Such an assertion is
difficult to maintain in the face of what we know of
the history of religions. The idea of God, as held
by the religious thinkers of the highest types of
religion, is of slow and late growth. The identi
fication of a power (or powers) outside us with our
highest ideals of knowledge, of beauty, and of
goodness is not dreamt of by the primitive savage,
just because he has not our ideals. Nor can the
idea be completed till these ideals are completed,
i.e., the growth of the idea of God, which we may call
the revelation of God, is continuous and is com-
I.] ORIGIN AND VALIDITY. 31
mensurate with human progress. The criticism of
science must be allowed full weight as against the
belief that religious truth was conveyed by some
inexplicable means to certain individuals at a definite
time, and then handed down like some treasure of
silver or gold. The prejudice against Biblical
Criticism and against the scientific study of re
ligions implies that the value of a religious idea
is altogether derived from the channel through
which it was first conveyed to mankind — a prophet,
a sacred book, an infallible church. But the value
of a religious idea cannot be dependent upon an
external authority of any kind, but solely on its own
adequacy to express, in a manner fitted to appeal at
once to the intellect and the emotions, the highest
possible beliefs of the time. This is implicitly re
cognised by Christian apologists, when they appeal
to the excellence of Christian morality ; but what
is the value of such an appeal if the morality is
itself dependent for its validity upon the authority
of miraculous persons or writings ? So far as
Christianity is a system of spiritual doctrines and
beliefs about the relation between the soul of the
individual and that Divine Spirit which is ever
operating in the universe, it finds a philosophical
counterpart and an intellectual interpretation in
Idealism ; but, so far as it is represented as neces
sarily including certain statements about alleged
matters of fact, Idealism can lend no support to
the apologist in his controversy with historical
critics.
32 NOTE ON HEREDITY
NOTE ON HEREDITY AS A FACTOR IN
KNOWLEDGE.1
WE cannot face the question of the degree to which know
ledge consists in, or depends upon, inherited elements, till
we know what heredity means and what things can, and
what cannot be inherited : and therefore the question must
be carried back from psychology into biology. This is
unfortunate for the psychologist who is hasting to lay the
foundations of all philosophy ; but, in this matter, he must
wait till the biological controversy between Lamarckian and
Weismannite is settled. As to the biological question, I
think it is important to distinguish between the negative
and the positive part of Weismann's theory. If Weis-
mann's theory of the continuity of the germ- plasm be
accepted, the hereditary transmission of "acquired char
acters " is impossible ; but apart altogether from this special
theory, and without accepting any theory to explain the
fact of heredity, it is possible to hold that the hereditary
transmission of acquired characters is " not proven." And
I shall not attempt to maintain anything more than this
negative position. The onus probandi lies with those who
maintain the doctrine of " Use-inheritance " (to adopt the
convenient abbreviated formula suggested by Mr. W. Platt
Ball). Entia non sunt multiplicanda prceter necessitate™.
Lin the first place, the consensus humani generis, though it
may be an important consideration in matters of conduct,
is no argument whatever in regard to a scientific belief.
The very fact that the traditional pre-scientific bias is in
favour of the Lamarckian theory seems to me a reason why
we should be especially strict in our examination of any
" facts " alleged in support of it. " The fathers have eaten
1 Originally written as part of a " Symposium " for the
Aristotelian Society (London). Printed with some omissions. In
the revision of this Note I am indebted to Mr. E. B. Poulton,
F.R.S., for some valuable suggestions.
AS A FACTOR IN KNOWLEDGE. 33
sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge."
Such sayings and the many legends about inherited curses,
etc., predispose people to accept the Lamarckian view
without sufficient grounds : and the popular versions or
travesties of what is supposed to be Darwinism are
generally Lamarckian in character.
II. So far as I am able to judge, no undoubted fact has
yet been brought forward which can only be explained on
the Lamarckian theory. Natural selection, the cessation of
natural selection (Weismann's panmixia}, the effects of
imitation, training, and other influences of the environ
ment within the individual lifetime — seem to be adequate
causes to account for facts, which might of course also
be explained by the transmitted effects of use and disuse,
were such transmission otherwise certainly proved to take
place. Thus, if a cat is taught to beg and her kittens
spontaneously beg, it is still possible that the kittens
may have inherited the combined tendency of their
parents to beg, apart from special instruction. Against
such cases (supposing them all reported with perfect ac
curacy) we must put the experience of horse-breeders, that
the foals of trained jumpers are not more easily trained to
be good hunters than the foals of horses that have never
been trained to jump but whose general build is what is
desired for a good hunter. My authority for this statement
is an article on " Hunter's Dams " in the Saturday Review
a year or two ago, the writer of which evidently believed
that he had started a puzzle for the " Darwinians ! " He
was clearly not a scientific student but a hunting man. If
acquired characters (bodily or mental) were transmissible,
breeders would surely have made use of the fact, whereas
(whatever theories any of them may have held) they have
depended entirely in practice on the judicious pairing of
sires and dams — as on Weismann's theory they must do.
That young birds in some species are at once able to
feed themselves on coming out of the shell, is quite ex-
D. H. D
34 NOTE ON HEREDITY
plicable by the working of natural selection alone. Mr.
Platt Ball (to whom I have already referred) has made a
searching examination of all the cases brought forward by
Spencer and Darwin in support of Use-inheritance, and
decides that it is " not proven." ( The Effects of Use and
Disuse in " Nature Series " : London, 1 890.)
The biological controversy must be fought out in the
realm of subhuman organisms. Because (a) with regard to
human beings, it is so much more difficult to distinguish
what is due to biological inheritance and what to socio
logical inheritance. A child is not only the child of its
parents, but as a rule is brought up with its parents or
among those of the same family. (&) The prolongation of
infancy and the possibility of transmitting experience
independently of race-inheritance would, on the principles
of natural selection and panmixia, tend to make heredity
relatively less important than in the lower animals, where
heredity is the only means of transmitting any favourable
variations, (c) It is more possible to study the question in
regard to the lower animals without bias.
III. Lastly, the argument sometimes used from preva
lent psychological theories to a biological theory seems to
me entirely illegitimate. If it be true, as Mr. Spencer
thinks, that the past experience of the race has produced
innate ideas and feelings, Weismann's denial of Use-
inheritance would be refuted. Certainly : but it is just
possible that Mr. Spencer's theory is not true.
It needs perhaps to be pointed out that there will often,
for practical purposes, be sufficient agreement between
Lamarckian and " Weismannite." Neither would recom
mend marriage with the descendant of a long line of
lunatics, or drunkards, or criminals, though the Weisman
nite would insist on discriminating more exactly than the
Lamarckian between the inherited taint and the effects of
bad education.
Mr. Sully (Outlines of Psychology r, 4 edit, p. 61) says :
AS A FACTOR IN KNOWLEDGE. 35
" When we talk of inherited mental tendencies, we mean
that the transmitted tendency is a result of ancestral ex
perience." This of course is the Spencerian view. And on
p. 482 he argues that the infant's pleasure at the sight of
familiar faces and fear at the sight of strange faces are
probably due to the experience of its ancestors. But it is
much more likely that the child inherits these tendencies
from animals whose young were less completely helpless
and less cared for by others than the human infant, and
whose instinctive fears and confidences have thus been
directed into advantageous channels by the working of
natural selection.
Now, to limit myself to the special problem of the in
fluence of heredity in knowledge — (i) first of all, we must
endeavour to mark off what is due to the experience which
takes place in the life-time of the individual, a factor that
counts for a good deal even in the case of birds and other
animals lower than man (cf. Wallace, Darwinism, p. 442).
(2) We must note that in human beings the acquisition of
knowledge by the individual is enormously facilitated by
what G. H. Lewes calls " the social factor " (see his Study
of Psychology, pp. 78-80). We are apt to ignore the
" inheritance " of ideas that comes to us e.g. in the language
we are taught to speak. Difference in language makes a
vast difference in the mental habits of different peoples.
Thus we find that a Frenchman thinks differently from a
German. We are not entitled at once to say, this is because
the one is a "Celt" and the other a "Teuton." Our
Frenchman might happen to be mostly of Teutonic race,
and our German might happen to be a mixture of Jew and
Slav : and yet each " inherits " a type of thinking in the
language he is taught to speak and, therefore, in the books
and in the persons to whose influence that language ex
poses his mind. (3) Only the residual phenomena can be
ascribed to heredity ; and the inherited or " connate "
36 NOTE ON HEREDITY
element in knowledge can, I think, be adequately explained
by " natural selection " without calling in the help of Use-
inheritance.
Lewes and Spencer consider it the special trimuph of
their theory of heredity as a factor in knowledge, that they
are able to reconcile the theories of the a priori and a
posteriori schools. This opinion seems to me a complete
ignoratio elenchi. Kant's " critical " theory is not psycho
logical but logical. The name a priori is of course most
unfortunate : it suggests priority in time. What Kant urges
is, that the possibility of science, or in fact of anything that
we can call "knowledge," implies certain necessary elements.
Hume had already shown that sense-experience can never
give necessity. Therefore, argues Kant, this necessity
comes from the very nature of thought. Let me take the
usual illustration— Causality. J. S. Mill says (in effect) :
" I seem to be unable to think of any event as altogether
isolated, because I happen to have found that A was always
followed by B, C by D, etc." Spencer says (in effect) : " I
am unable to think of any event as isolated, because my
great-grandfathers found out that A was the cause of B,
C of D, etc." Now suppose Use-inheritance possible, if all
my great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers had spent
all their lives in scientific investigation, this might make
me better able than the average person to find the real
cause of particular events, but it could never explain, why
I cannot think events as isolated. Even the lowest savage
does not and cannot. That is the very reason for his
grotesque mythologies. They are his attempts to satisfy
the demands of his thinking, which requires him to believe
that whatever happens is necessarily linked to other things.
Now this incapacity of really thinking of anything without
thinking of it as connected with other things, must already
exist in germ among the higher animals below man, though
of course we only recognise it distinctly in the highest
human thought. It forms part of what thinking implies.
AS A FACTOR IN KNOWLEDGE. 37
And, if we are considering the appearance of thinking
(reflection) as an event in time, there seems no reason why
it may not be sufficiently accounted for by natural selec
tion. The Kantian criticism deals not with our beliefs,
ideas, etc., as events, but with their character and value.
The distinction between a priori and a posteriori would be
better expressed as the distinction between the necessary
or universal element and the particular element which
varies with time, place and person. Understood in this
way, the Kantian theory of knowledge contains nothing
which the theory of heredity can either explain or destroy.
II.
DARWIN AND HEGEL.1
IN every age philosophy has been affected by the
sciences,2 i.e., the methods and conceptions which
are used in the attempt to make some particular
province or aspect of the Universe intelligible have
exercised a fascination over those who are seeking to
understand the universe as a whole. And this is
only natural : for the philosopher, who is really the
philosopher of his own age and not the survival
from an earlier epoch, is the product of the same
intellectual movement which has led to the adoption
of new methods and new conceptions among those
who are pursuing special branches of knowledge.
The difference between the genuine philosopher and
the average seeker for "completely unified know
ledge " is that the former has a fuller and clearer
consciousness of the methods and conceptions he is
1 Read before the Aristotelian Society (London), and published
in their Proceedings, Vol. I., No. 4, Part II. (1891).
2 1 do not mean that the sciences alone have determined the
character and object of philosophy, which are affected by every
thing that concerns man's spiritual life — religion, art, politics ; but
only that the method and leading conceptions of philosophy are
specially affected by the sciences.
3*
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 39
using, and is less likely to apply them uncritically
and in disregard of the subject-matter to which he
is applying them.
Mathematics was the only science that had out
grown the merest infancy among the Greeks. And
in the Pythagoreans we have an example of philo
sophers who were completely carried away by the
fascination of the conceptions of number and figure.
In defining justice as "a square number," the Py
thagoreans were for the first time attempting to
make ethics " scientific," i.e., to lift reflection on
human conduct out of the region of proverbial
moralising by applying to it the most scientific cate
gories of which they knew. Plato has puzzled many
generations of commentators by those mystic num
bers which he introduces into his philosophy ; in all
likelihood he only half believed in them (if so much
as that), and he seems to be playing an elaborate
and rather cruel joke on literal-minded persons,
hinting all the while at the inadequacy of the Pytha
gorean symbols. Aristotle introduced mathematical
formulae into ethics, but only with carefully ex
pressed modifications. His conception of scientific
method comes, indeed, too exclusively from mathe
matics ; but he is in advance of many modern
moralists in seeing that human conduct at least is
too complex to be studied by mathematical methods.
It might be objected, that in mediaeval philosophy
the principle I have laid down did not hold, but that
the reverse was the case, that philosophy was not
affected by the sciences, but that the sciences were
4O DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
" corrupted by metaphysics." The study of nature,
however, was by no means that on which the medi
aeval intellect exercised itself. There were in truth
only two " sciences " in which the mediaeval mind
took a living interest, viz., moral theology and law
—that is to say, the application of a supposed divine
code to the particular cases of human conduct, and
the application in the same way of a human code
assumed to be of supreme excellence. Physics was
only a tradition (of course I am speaking roughly of
what is true " on the whole "). The words of Aris
totle or of Galen were accepted on authority. In
these sciences, however, where authority is a matter
of necessity, the utmost ingenuity of mind could be
exercised in bringing general principles to bear on
particular cases. Thus the abstract, deductive, and
argumentative method actually employed in the
sciences of legal and moral casuistry reacted on the
interpretation given to Aristotelian logic and on the
general theory of method adopted. Aristotelian
logic was itself based on the method of geometry.
Add to this the mediaeval habit of bowing to the
authority of the written word in every department
of thought and life, and we can easily see the source
of the mediaeval conception of system in philosophy.
In the seventeenth century the effect of geomet
rical method on Hobbes and on Spinoza is suffi
ciently conspicuous.1 The conceptions of mechanical
1 With regard to Hobbes, compare Aubrey's story, quoted by
Professor G. Croom Robertson, Hobbes^ p. 31 : " He was forty
years old before he looked on geometry, which happened acciden-
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 4!
physics assert themselves throughout this, and still
more in the following century, even where the philo
sopher, in the interests of literary form, is careful
to eschew the appearance of science. John Stuart
Mill's phrase, " mental chemistry" {Examination of
Hamilton, p. 357, ed. 5), suggests a new set of cate
gories which raise the " association " psychologists
above the level of their predecessors who used the
categories of mechanics. In the present age the
most conspicuously advancing science is biology ;
and the categories of organism and evolution are
freely transferred to philosophy with the great ad
vantage of lifting it out of the more abstract concep
tions of mathematics or mechanics, but too often
with insufficient consciousness of what is being done,
so that striking metaphors are mistaken for indis
putable facts or laws.
Now, there were " evolutionists " before Darwin,
and even before Mr. Herbert Spencer, who seems
to wish to take out a patent for the invention of the
theory, and conspicuously calls the attention of a
careless public to the fact that his essay on Progress :
its Law and Cause, appeared in April, 1857, where
as the Origin of Species did not see the light till
October, 1859 (see preface to 4th edition of First
tally : being in a gentleman's library in , Euclid's Elements
lay open, and it was the 47th Prop., Lib. I. So he reads the pro
position. ' By G — ,' says he, ' this is impossible ! ' So he reads
the demonstration, which referred him back to another, which he
also read, et sic deinceps, that at last he was demonstratively con
vinced of that truth. This made him in love with geometry."
42 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
Principles). Evolution is in every one's mouth
now, and the writings of Mr. Spencer have done a
great deal (along with the discoveries of Darwin) to
make the conception familiar. But nothing grows
up quite suddenly. During the latter half of last
century many isolated thinkers had, in this or that
department of science, come to apply the idea of de
velopment. Though in Kant as a philosopher the
idea of evolution, and indeed the whole conception
of historical growth, is conspicuously absent,1 yet the
same Kant, as a man of science, was the author of
the nebular hypothesis. Vico and Montesquieu had,
still earlier, suggested a way of looking at human
institutions, which was not fully understood till
several generations had passed. Above all, in bio
logy, Erasmus Darwin (Zoonomia, 1794) fore
shadowed the work of his grandson. Buffon,
Geoffrey St. Hilaire, Lamarck, had all attacked the
orthodox dogma of immutable species ; and perhaps
Lord Monboddo should not be forgotten, for his
speculations on the origin of man became widely
1 Of course such a statement is only relatively true — i.e., if we
compare Kant with Hegel and other philosophers of this century.
Kant does maintain the idea of progress in human society, and
explains it as due to the "unsocial sociability of men " — by which
he clearly means " repulsion " and " attraction " (concepts
borrowed from physics). He is quite aware that the "original
contract " never took place as a matter of fact in history, but he
prefers to think out problems of politics with the help of these
unhistorical fictions. Here, as everywhere, the abstract line which
Kant draws between what is a priori and what is a posteriori —
between the form of thought and the matter of experience — pre
vents him from seeing a thought process in the time-process.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 43
familiar, since the very shallowest wits could raise a
laugh about them. Goethe, who, as an old man of
eighty-one, was more excited by the news of the
dispute between Cuvier and St. Hilaire than by the
news of the July Revolution, had forty years before
(1790) published his Metamorphoses of Plants.
Thus Hegel grew up in an intellectual atmosphere
in which the conception of evolution, and especially
of biological evolution, was no inconsiderable ele
ment. For Goethe's general view of nature he had
the greatest sympathy — so much so indeed that he
was led to defend Goethe's theory of colour against
the Newtonian theory, a defence which has brought
Hegel into much discredit with the modern scientific
mind. What attracted Hegel in Goethe's view of
nature (as Mr. S. Alexander has well pointed out in
Mind, xi. p. 511), was that sense of unity or totality
in nature which the poet's feeling grasps, but which
is apt to escape the analysis of the scientific under
standing (cf. N at iir phi Los op hie, pp. 317, 318, 483) :
and it was perhaps worth while to remind the world
that to regard light as composed of different colours
is only a way of making the concrete facts of nature
intelligible to ourselves. In the same spirit Hegel
complains (p. 489) that the botanists of his time did
not appreciate Goethe's Metamorphoses of Plants,
and " did not know what to make of it, just because
what was represented therein was a totality (eben
weil ein Ganzes darin dargestellt Wurde)" Goethe
gets behind the difference which to the ordinary eye
and mind splits up a plant into a combination of un-
44 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
like parts (root, stem, branch, leaves, blossoms, fruit)
and sees all these as the differentiations of an iden
tical nature (Grundwesen).
In his Zur Morphologic (written in 1795, pub
lished in 1807) Goethe formulates the law that " the
more imperfect a being is the more do its individual
parts resemble each other, and the more do these
parts resemble the whole. The more perfect the
being is, the more dissimilar are its parts. In the
former case the parts are more or less a repetition of
the whole ; in the latter case they are totally unlike
the whole. The more the parts resemble each
other, the less subordination is there of one to the
other. Subordination of parts indicates high grade of
organisation" (Lewes, Life of Goethe, p. 358). We
are familiar with this in another form : "the change
from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a
definite coherent heterogeneity." Goethe has an
ticipated Von Baer's law, enunciated in respect of
embryology (1828), which forms the essential part
of the formula that Mr. Spencer as a philosopher
has applied to the whole universe.
Evolution was thus familiar to Hegel, both the
theory and the word. Everywhere in Hegel we
read about Entwickelung ; but of Evolution he does
not speak in so friendly a manner. " The two forms
in which the series of stages in nature have been ap
prehended are Evolution and Emanation " (Natur-
phil., p. 34). By the first, he explains, is meant the
process from the less perfect to the more perfect ;
by the second the process from the more perfect to
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 45
the less perfect. Of the two he prefers the concep
tion of Emanation, because it explains the lower
from the point of view of the higher, whereas Evolu
tion carries one back " into the darkness of the
past," and only gives us a series of stages following
one another in time. " The time-difference has no
interest whatever for thought " (p. 33). This is un
doubtedly a hard saying. The man who can prefer
the Oriental conception of Emanation to the modern
scientific conception of Evolution might seem to be
more fit to be expounded by the Theosophical
Society than to be seriously considered by the con
temporaries of Mr. Herbert Spencer. " We must
interpret the more developed by the less developed,"
says Mr. Spencer (Data of Ethics, p. 7) ; and at
least ninety-nine out of every hundred scientific
students would cry " Amen." But is this what they
are themselves doing ? They tell us about the less
developed organisms or societies (or whatever may
be the subject of investigation), and then they go on
to tell us about the more developed. But are they
really interpreting the higher by the lower ? Let us
listen to another philosopher who approached philo
sophy from the side of biology. In his Study of
Psychology, G. H. Lewes writes as follows : — "Once
recognising the necessity of observing the sentient
activities of men and of animals, and of interpreting
these by reference to their organic conditions, what
more natural suggestion than that our study should
begin with animals ? The comparative simplicity of
their organisms and their manifestations would seem
46 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
to mark them as furnishing the safest prolegomena
to Human Psychology. I have already stated (in
the preface to Problems of Life and Mind] that in
1860 I was led to collect materials with this view,
but that fuller consideration showed it to be imprac
ticable. To show why it was impracticable will be
an answer to my Russian critic, M. Wyrouboff, who
objects to my ' sin against scientific method ' in not
proceeding from phenomena that are general and
simple to those that are special and complex ; I
ought, he thinks, to have made the exposition of the
simpler cerebral phenomena in animals precede that
of the more complex phenomena in man. This was
my own opinion till experience proved its mistake.
I found myself constantly thwarted by the fallacies of
anthropomorphic interpretation. It was impossible,
even approximately, to eliminate these before a clear
outline of the specially human elements was secured,"
etc. (pp. 1 1 8, 119). Farther on he says: " It is
clear that we should never rightly understand vital
phenomena were we to begin our study of Life by
contemplating its simplest manifestations in the ani
mal series ; we can only understand the Amceba and
the Polype by a light reflected from the study of
Man" (p. 122). What makes it seem possible for
the scientific investigator " to begin at the beginning"
is the fact that he is not doing so. The student of
the Amoeba happens to be, not an Amoeba, but a
specimen of a highly developed vertebrate, and
knows at least something about the differentiated
organs and functions of his own body. Professor
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 47
Freeman "explains" the English Constitution by
quoting Tacitus about the Germans, and by describ
ing the Landesgemeinden of Uri and Appenzell, etc.,
etc. : but then we all know something about our
present constitution.
Now this I take to be the element of truth in
Hegel's preference for Emanation over Evolution.
We only understand a part of anything when we
can look at it as the part of a whole, and we only
understand the elementary stages when we know
them as the elementary stages of something more
highly developed. This is true in each special
branch of knowledge, and it is true in the attempt
to think the universe as a whole.
Hegel's "development" ( Entwickelung] is not a
time-process, but a thought-process ; yet Hegel's
method of exposition is such that the thought-
process is apt to be read as if it were meant to be
a time-process. To avoid misunderstanding him we
must, as has been said, "read Hegel backwards."
;' He presents everything synthetically," says Pro
fessor Seth (Hegelianism and Personality, p. 90),*
" though it must first have been got analytically by
an ordinary process of reflection upon the facts which
are the common property of every thinker." There
has been much innocent laughter over Hegel's
absurdity in saying that Being is the same thing as
Nothing, and that Being and Nothing between them
produced Becoming. But, if we take the concep
tion of "Becoming" and analyse it, we find that it
1 p. 96, in edit. 2.
48 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
does imply both Being and Not-being. That which
becomes is that which was not but now is. The
Eleatics were puzzled by the conception of Motion,
just because they were trying to think the whole of
reality under the category of Being, and did not see
that Not-being was involved as well. So, on the
other hand, the Heracleiteans seemed to make every
thing slip away in a flux, because they took the cate
gory of Becoming as ultimate and did not recognise
that it implied the category of Being. The begin
ning of Hegel's Logic is, among other things, a
memorandum of Plato's solution of these old con
troversies.1
So again, if we are told that Identity passes over
into Difference, and that the two produce Likeness
and Unlikeness (I am not attempting to follow the
minutiae of Hegel's statement here), we shall see
the point of this better by taking the concept of
1 In his learned and admirable work on Early Greek Philo
sophy, Professor J. Burnet has argued forcibly for the view that
the Eleatics and Heracleitus were materialists, as much as the
early lonians. But even if his contention be fully admitted,
there is a great difference between " materialism " before there was
any philosophy that was not materialistic, and the conscious and
explicit materialism of those who are in revolt against idealism
of any kind. In other words, though we admit that the early
philosophers were conscious only of discussing cosmological
questions, yet they were incidentally discussing logical and onto-
logical questions also (just as many religious and some political
controversialists have discussed metaphysics without knowing it) :
and it was the logical and ontological aspects of their philosophies
which had most interest for Plato and for Aristotle — and for
Hegel.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 49
Likeness and asking what it implies — a question
that is by no means superfluous, for English philo
sophy has tended to take the category of similarity
as if it were ultimate. Thus J. S. Mill says,
" Likeness and Unlikeness cannot be resolved into
anything else " (Logic, i. p. 75). Hume in his
Treatise of Human Nature, resolves ''identity"
into " resemblance." " This propension," he says,
" to bestow an identity on our resembling perceptions
produces the fiction of a continued existence " (p.
209, edit. Selby-Bigge). In treating of the Laws of
Association, Mr. Spencer aims at reducing contiguity
to similarity (Principles of Psychology, § 120, vol. i.,
p. 267). Mr. Bosanquet has pointed out that " Mr.
Spencer is more of an atomist than any one else
has ever been, for he says that the syllogism must
have four terms, i.e., the middle term is not identical
in its two relations, but only similar " (Essays and
Addresses, p. 167). Mr. Bosanquet is working out
the subject from the other side, attacking the delu
sion of English philosophers that identity necessarily
excludes difference. It is because of their abstract
conception of identity that some of them have been
led on to attempt to get rid of identity altogether in
psychology and logic.
If, then, we read Hegel backwards, wre find that
his logic and the whole of his philosophy consist in
this perpetual " criticism of categories," i.e., in an
analysis of the terms and concepts which ordinary
thinking and the various special sciences use as cur
rent coin without testing their real value. But the
D. H. E
5O DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
results of this "criticism of categories" Hegel
arranges so as to present the appearance of a com
pleted system — the self-development of thought from
the simplest to the most complex stages, the less
adequate conceptions showing their imperfections,
and so by criticising themselves, as it were, leading
us on to the more adequate, fuller, and "truer,"
ways of thinking. This is Hegel's manner of satis
fying- the demand for " completely unified know
ledge." But because of this method of exposition
he is peculiarly liable to be misunderstood and mis
represented. The tendency to mistake a thought-
process for a time-process arises from our desire to
substitute the easier form of picture-thinking for the
more difficult effort of grasping the separate elements
in their totality. And it is a tendency which may
mislead even philosophers themselves and still more
their followers. Thus Aristotle carefully defines the
logical term as that " into which the proposition is
resolved " («V ov Sia\verai tj TTporaa-i^. But when
" terms" come to be treated of as the first part of
logic, then the temptation is to explain the propo
sition as arising out of a combination of terms. So
again, when the process of inference has been
analysed into premises and conclusion, the premises
come to be regarded as if they existed first in time
and as if the conclusion was afterwards tacked on to
them — a piece of picture-thinking which has exposed
to unmerited attack the Aristotelian analysis of
reasoning. So, too, because we can think of society
as recognising certain rights in its members, the in-
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 51
dividuals with their rights come to be pictured as
existing prior to the formation of society, in an
imaginary state of nature. To take an example
from another region — Space is analysed into its
three dimensions; then the geometrician, for method's
sake, treats of two dimensions first and afterwards
goes on to treat of three dimensions. And so some
people fancy that you can go on to spaces of four,
five, or any number of dimensions ; whereas, there
is, as a matter of fact, no " going on" at all-
Space of one or of two dimensions with which we
are supposed to start is an abstraction from the only
real space.
Why, it may be asked, did Hegel adopt this
treacherous mode of exposition ? Two, reasons
may be given. In the first place, he was influenced,
as we have seen, by the Neoplatonic idea of Ema
nation ; but there is this all-important difference
between Hegel and the Neoplatonists, that he gets
beyond the idea of differentiation as mere loss or
evil, and sees in it a necessary step in the move
ment to a higher unity. Thus the idea of Emana
tion in his hands passes over into the idea of
development from the abstract to the concrete.
But, in the second place, this development or
thought-process does show itself as a time-process.
Hegel's remark in the Natur philosophic (p. 33)
must not be taken to mean anything more than that
a mere after-one-another in time is of no philosophical
or scientific interest; thus, e.g., the scientific his.-
torian will not write mere annals. Annals are the
52 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
materials for history, and are not yet history.
Above all in the history of philosophy does the
connection between the thought-process and the
time-process come to the surface. The history of
philosophy gave Hegel his clue to the logical
development of the categories. The simpler and
more abstract categories come first in time in the
process by which the human consciousness becomes
gradually aware of the conceptions underlying
ordinary thought and language. In the history of
philosophy we have a development from the
simpler to the more complex, like that which
Evolutionists see in the physical universe. Pro
fessor Wallace has well compared Hegel's discovery
of the self-development of thought by means of the
clue given him in the history of philosophy to
Darwin's discovery of the process of evolution in
the organic world by the help of the clue given
him by " artificial selection." " Philosophy," says
Professor Wallace, " is to the general growth of
intelligence what artificial breeding is to the varia
tion of species under natural conditions " ( The Logic
of Hegel, Prolegomena, p. ex.).
I should quite agree with Prof. Seth (Hegelianism
and Personality, p. lyoj1 that Hegel's greatest
strength lies just in his interpretation of history—
i.e., of the process of human evolution in all its
departments. But Prof. Seth blames Hegel for
transferring to the development in time the thought-
process described in the Logic, without any justifica-
1 p. 179 in edit. 2.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 53
tion except the ambiguity in the word " development "
(p. I59).1 I have just tried to show that the his
tory of philosophy itself is Hegel's justification
for the transference ; and I think that if he is to be
blamed at all, it should rather be for stating the
thought-process in the Logic, so that it looks like a
time-process.
I suppose the belief still prevails about Hegel that
he is an a priori metaphysician who spins theories
out of his head regardless of facts. And this re
proach is held to apply with special force to his
Philosophy of Nature. What Hegel himself says is
something very different. " Not only must philo
sophy be in harmony with experience, but empirical
natural science is the presupposition and condition
of the rise and formation of the philosophical
science of nature." 2 The synthetic thinking of the
philosopher must follow after and depend upon the
results of the analytic process of scientific research.
This being so, it must be remembered in respect of
Hegel's Philosophy of Nature, that much of the
natural science which supplied him with his material
and his problems is now out of date ; so that his
Philosophy of Nature cannot have the same interest
and value for us as his /Esthetic, or his Philosophy
of Religion, or his Philosophy of History, though
even in these departments we occasionally feel that
the philosopher is working with somewhat antiquated
materials, and not always dealing with what have
1 p. 1 68 in edit. 2.
2 Naturphilosophie^ p. u.
54 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
come to be our chief problems. Secondly, Hegel's
warmest admirers must admit that Hegel has his
prejudices — patriotic prejudices in the main. His
sympathy with Goethe's conception of nature was,
on the whole, a beneficial influence ; but it helped to
make him unappreciative of Newton. And, thirdly,
Hegel has less interest in nature than in the works
of the human mind. He is undergoing the reaction
against the deification of Nature, as something
higher and better than man. " Vanini says that a
straw is enough to reveal the being of God " ; but
adds Hegel, "any idea of the mind, the poorest of
its fancies, the play of its most accidental moods,
every word is a more excellent reason for recog
nising the being of God than any single natural
object whatever" (Natiirp kilo sop hie, p, 29). Again,
" Even an arbitrary volition — nay, even a bad voli
tion — is infinitely higher than the regular movements
of the stars or than the innocence of the plants ; for
a wrong human volition is the error of a thinking
spiritual being" (#., p. 13. )*
Grant all this, it may be said, and what then is the
use of bringing Hegel's name into connection with
1 Cf. the passage near the beginning of the " Introduction " to
the ^Esthetic: " If we look at informally — i.e., only considering
in what way it exists, not what there is in it — even a silly fancy
such as may pass through a man's head is higher than any product
of Nature ; for such a fancy must at least he characterised by -
intellectual being and by freedom." (Bosanquet's Translation,
p. 3.)
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 55
Darwin's ? There might be some reason for con
sidering his attitude to evolution, as he saw it repre
sented in the Biologic (1802-5) of Treviranus and
in the Philosophic Zoologique (1809) of Lamarck,
and some reason, perhaps, for blaming him for his
want of appreciation of the first beginnings of the
great scientific revolution of this century. I think,
however, it is worth while to see whether we can
get any help, not from details in Hegel, but from
his general method and spirit of philosophising, in
making the attempt to think nature and human
society as they present themselves to us now, in
the light of Darwin's theory of natural selection. Of
evolution Hegel had heard — somewhat impatiently,
perhaps — but not of natural selection. But neither
had Treviranus nor Lamarck; neither had Mr.
Herbert Spencer when he elaborated the ground
work of his system. Even in the fifth edition
(1884) of First Principles, "natural selection " is
only allowed to appear in a footnote, which footnote
is intended to minimise the importance of Darwin's
discovery (p. 447). Now it is " natural selection "
which seems to me the really epoch-making scientific
theory: it is this that has produced that "change
of categories " which, as Hegel says {Naturphil.> p.
19), is the essential thing in all revolutions, whether
in the sciences or in human history. Evolution in
the form in which Mr. Spencer, for instance, formu
lates it, is only a further carrying out of an idea which
may be traced back to the Ionian hylicists; "natural
selection " introduces a quite new method of looking
56 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
at nature, and it has the further advantage of being,
not a metaphysical speculation, but an undeniable
fact.
What, then, is the effect of the theory of natural
selection on Hegel's philosophy ? Hegel's method
of philosophising Nature could adjust itself quite
easily to the new scientific theory. The factors
which Darwin assumes for his theory are — Varia
tion, Heredity, Struggle for Existence. Now are
not Heredity and Variation just particular forms of
the categories of Identity and Difference, whose
union and interaction produce the actually existing
kinds of living beings, i.e., those determinate simila
rities and dissimilarities which constitute "species" ?
But this result — definite, clearly marked kinds —
comes about through struggle, i.e., through nega
tion, the constant elimination of the less fit. Sur
vival of the fittest, on Darwin's theory, comes about
only through the negative process of destruction.
In the stage of mere Nature this negativity is me
chanical and external. In the higher stage of con
sciousness (spirit) this negativity is self-determined,
free — as I shall try to show later on.
This attempt at Hegelianising natural selection
may seem fanciful. We know that Hegel's formulae
have been read into Shakespeare's plays and into
various inconsistent types of religious creed : and
people become suspicious of formulae so very elastic.
I think, however, my interpretation is valid so far
as it goes, though it would not count for much
except for reasons I now go on to consider.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 57
There is one matter on which I think that most
admirers of Hegel, unless they be of the very
straitest orthodoxy, would allow that his view of
Nature needs some correction. I mean his con
ception of " the Contingent " (das Zufallige}. That
infinite variety which is sometimes praised as " the
freedom of Nature," or even as " the divinity of
Nature," Hegel regards as, not the glory, but the
defect and impotency of Nature. (NaturphiL, p.
37 ; cf. the small Logic ; Werke, vi. pp. 288, 290 ;
Wallace's Translation, pp. 227, 228.) Thought has
in nature gone out of itself into its " other"-— its
extreme opposite — irrationality. And that is why
nature is like a wild Bacchantic god (Naturphil.^
p. 24).
This conception of the " contingency " and
"weakness" of nature is a survival in Hegel of
the Platonic and Aristotelian conception of matter.
In Plato's view the world in space and time must,
just because it is in space and time, fall short of
what its Artificer wished. So with Aristotle,
"Chance" is an objective cause working in rerum
natura, not a name for our ignorance. Professor
Seth seems to hold that nature is illogical or non-
rational, but that Hegel falls into a "most trans
parent fallacy " in saying that contingency is itself
a category — a form of the Idea which " has no less
than other forms of the Idea its due office in the
world of objects." " To say that a thing is con
tingent or accidental," argues Professor Seth, " is
to say in so many words that we can give no
5 8 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
rational account of why it is as it is, and not other
wise. " (Hegelianism and Personality, p. 1 3 7. x )
In this criticism I think that Professor Seth has
approved of the more defective part of Hegel's
statement, and has condemned the part in which
Hegel shows most insight. Darwin's theory of
natural selection seems to me, while helping, as all
modern science does, to correct the despair of giving
a rational account of what appears to us merely ac
cidental, at the same time completely to justify
Hegel in regarding this seeming non-rationality of
nature as itself a form of the rational. The theory
of natural selection presupposes (it is sometimes
even made an objection to it that it does so pre
suppose) a tendency to variation in nature. There
must be this for natural selection to work upon.
Thus the non- rationality (indefinite variability) has
its reason — in a sense in which that was never re
cognised before. Of course this tendency to varia
tion is of itself a fact to be explained ; and biologists
feel themselves obliged now to face problems that
might have been put aside as insoluble in the days
before this new conception of natural selection
revolutionised their science.
Professor Seth asks: "What logical connection is
there between the different qualities of things — be
tween the smell of a rose, for example, and its shape;
or between the taste of an orange and its colour?"2
1 p. 146, in edit. 2.
2 P. 133 in edit, i ; p. 142 in edit. 2. Prof. Seth would, I
believe, defend his question by laying stress on the term "logical";
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 59
This seems to me rather an unlucky question. We
feel sure now that there must be some. The scent
of flowers, the taste of fruits, their colours, shapes,
etc., are not regarded now as "accidental " results of
a fortuitous concourse of atoms or as the mere fancy-
work of a capricious maker, but as connected in
some way with the means through which the plant
is reproduced, and the species aided in its compe
tition with others by the insects which carry its
pollen and the birds which carry its seeds. Thus,
in some plants, successive adoption of self-fertili
sation and insect-fertilisation can be read off from
the complicated shape of the corolla.1 I do not
know whether the particular problems, suggested by
Professor Seth, about the rose and the orange have
been solved. But quite analogous problems have
been, such as — Why do white flowers often give
out their scent only by night ?2 Cats and red clover
might seem to have no more logical connection than
we cannot infer the smell (e.g.} from the shape of a flower. If
we cannot, it is only because of our ignorance in respect of the
particular problem. From the parallel veins in the leaf of a
flowering plant I can infer that its petals will be arranged in three's
or in multiples of three, in the same sort of way, if not with
quite the same certainty, with which I infer that, if one • angle of
a rectilineal triangle is a right angle, the sum of the other angles
must be a right angle. To assume that logical connection is
something absolutely different in kind from the connection between
things (real connection) seems to me to make scientific knowledge
impossible. See Note at the end of next essay.
1 Cf. A. R. Wallace, Darwinism, p. 331.
2 Ibid., p. 316. "White flowers are often fertilised by moths,
and very frequently give out their scent only by night."
6O DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
Tenterden Steeple and Goodwin Sands ; but Mr.
Darwin has shown how the flourishing of red clover
depends on the flourishing of cats, who eat the
field-mice, who eat the humble-bees, who fertilise the
red clover.1
What distinguishes Darwin's theory from other
theories of evolution is the kind of explanation it
gives. Hegel complains, and I think justly, that
merely to go back " into the darkness of the past,"
or merely to say, " first there was the simple and
then the complex was evolved out of it," and so on,
is not to explain nature ; it is only to give a chrono
logical table of events — real or imaginary. We
want to know " Why?" To refer us back to the
homogeneous and undifferentiated is to give " the
material cause " (TO e£ o5) of what has happened : it
is not to explain why what has happened has hap
pened. But the theory of natural selection does
explain " Why." Such a form or characteristic has
been of advantage, of utility to the species, and
therefore has favoured its continuance. Darwin
restores " final causes " to their proper place in
science — final causes in the Aristotelian, not in the
Stoic or " Bridge water Treatise," sense.2
" The Good" as a means of explanation thus re
gains the importance which Plato claimed for it.
He makes Socrates complain that Anaxagoras, after
asserting that Reason was the cause or principle of
1 Darwin, Origin of Species -, pp. 57, 58.
2 Cf. Hegel's small Logic, Werke, vi. pp. 378, 379 ; Wallace's
Transl., p. 299.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 6 1
all things, went on to assign only " material" causes
of things, whereas if we are to give a rational ex
planation we must do so by showing how the good
was realised in the world (Phcedo, 97, 98). Plato
was too hastily trying to see everything in the light
of the one supreme good— the end of the universe
as a whole. And Aristotle's caution was not unne
cessary — "the good for man is not the same as the
good for fishes " (Et/i. NIC., vi. 7, § 4). This con
ception of Final Causes, which the theory of Natural
Selection restores, is not the cruder form of teleology
which attempts to explain everything in the universe
by showing that it serves the good of man. Each
species has come to be what it is by pursuing (if
we may speak metaphorically) its own good. Each
individual is preserved by its own good. In the
conflict between individuals and between kinds
that which is better equipped for the particular
struggle is selected. From many points of view,
e.g., from ours — ours either as the species of human
beings, or ours, as members of this or that society,
or ours, as individuals — what happens may be very
far from what we consider our good, yet it must be
the better adapted for success which succeeds. This
is a truism when stated thus : but from this it
follows that the explanation of structures, habits,
etc., must be found in the end or purpose that they
serve. This substitution of Final Cause for Efficient
or Material Cause as the more important category
is as significant for us now as it seemed to be to
Aristotle. And of all modern philosophers Hegel
62 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
has recognised most fully this significance of the
conception of End. On this head his critic, Pro
fessor Seth, allows that he represents " what is
profoundest and best in modern philosophy " (Hege-
lianism and Personality, p.
Let me trace some consequences of the theory of
natural selection in Ethics — where the applications
of it are perhaps the most interesting to us. In
Ethics the theory of natural selection has vindicated
all that has proved most permanently valuable in
Utilitarianism, while correcting those parts of the
theory which made the negative work of the Intui-
tionalist critic very easy. Right and wrong appear
now as what help or hinder the good of the society
—whatever the society may be. The happiness of
the individual, as Professor Clifford pointed out
(Lectures and Essays, ii. p. 173), is of no use to the
community, except in so far as it makes him a more
efficient citizen. Thus ethics is again, as to Aristotle
and to Hegel, closely bound up with politics. The
ethical end for the individual must be a social end —
a common good (whatever the community may be).
Natural selection (as I have tried to show more
fully elsewhere) 2 is a perfectly adequate cause to
account for the rise of morality — in that same sense
of " cause " in which we use the term in scientific
1 p. 89 in edit. 2.
2 Art. on " Natural Selection and the Spiritual World," in West
minster Review, May, 1890, reprinted in 2nd edit, of Darwinism
and Politics (1891). See esp. pp. 96-106.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 63
explanations of natural phenomena. Regarded as
events in time, the appearance of consciousness and
the capacity for language with the consequent possi
bility of storing up the results of experience, may be
accounted for by natural selection, i.e., they favoured
in the struggle for existence those species which
happened to possess them. The facts of conscious
ness, of reflection, of self-consciousness, however,
make an enormous difference in the character of this
struggle. Natural selection in its lower stages—
those with which the naturalist is familiar — works
solely by the destruction of the less favourably cir
cumstanced organisms and species. Natural selec
tion among " articulate-speaking," thinking mortals,
who can " look before and after," works in other
ways as well. Morality, to begin with, means those
feelings and acts and habits which are advantageous
to the welfare of the community. Morality comes
to mean the conscious and deliberate adoption of
those feelings and acts and habits which are
advantageous to the welfare of the community ;
and reflection makes it possible to alter the con
ception of what the community is, whose welfare
is to be considered.
In human history, except where there has been
retrogression, we find an advance in the ideals of
life, i.e., man has been coming to a fuller and fuller
consciousness of the end or good at which from
the first, merely as a social animal, he has been
blindly striving. It is worth while referring to
retrogressions, because such cases show us to what
64 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
an extent morality and all other differences between
man and the animals, between the highest and the
lowest races of human beings, are due to the in
fluence of social institutions and not to any original,
innate, or inherited instincts. Long centuries of
civilisation do not prevent mankind from reverting
to a condition not far from that of the lowest
races, where circumstances, such as a terrible pesti
lence, long-continued warfare, a barbarian invasion
or life among savages, have removed the ordinary
restraints of civilisation. Still these are exceptional
conditions. What may appear to be a general
breakdown and return to barbarism may be the
transition to a new and, in some respects, higher
type of social organisation. For in human evolu
tion we are forcibly reminded that progress does not
go on in a straight line ; but, just because thought
enters into the process, at each step there is an
attempt to correct the one-sidedness of the preceding
stage.
In the history of philosophy this " dialectic move
ment " comes clearly to the surface. The philo
sopher who is not a mere echo of what has become
a dogmatic system is driven, by reflection on the
prevalent manner of thinking, to lay stress on the
aspects of truth which have been neglected. But
the criticism he applies to his predecessors must in
due time be applied to him. The great constructive
philosophers seem indeed to gather up into their
thought all the elements that existed scattered in
preceding systems ; but the time comes when a
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 65
new criticism and then a new reconstruction are
needed, if philosophy is to remain living and not
to be fossilised in a traditional dogma. " Let
us follow whithersoever the argument leads us" ;
and, if we do not let ourselves become " misolo-
gists," we must hold fast this Athenian faith in the
value of the perpetual conflict of ideas, which is the
highest form of the struggle for existence.
But what comes out clearly, and with some con
sciousness on the part of those concerned, in the
history of philosophy is also going on in all other
parts of human evolution. If natural selection
operated among human beings exactly as in the
lower organic world, there would be no advance
except by the destruction of all the individuals
composing an unsuccessful form of social organism.
In the lower stages of human history that must have
happened often enough. In the higher stages the
organism may change without the members of it
being destroyed ; the race (the merely natural
element) is not inseparably linked to the fate of
all its institutions, its language, religion, form of
government, etc. A vigorous race may live
through many political and social institutions ; on
the other hand, successful institutions may become
the possession of many races. Now in the history
of civilisation generally we can see, though not in
every respect so clearly as in the history of philo
sophy, this criticism of customs and ideas going on.
Revolutions, peaceable or otherwise, are the transi
tions from one stage to another, provoking generally
D. H. F
66 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
a counter-revolution, but in progressive societies,
helping the forward movement through whatever
apparently zigzag courses. Mr. Herbert Spencer
thinks that the movement of human progress is all
in one direction — from status to contract. Any at
tempts to get rid of some of the anarchy of individ
ualism he can only interpret as a return to militancy.
A follower of Hegel would agree with the average
man that it is no such thing. We are not returning
to the Middle Ages, but advancing to a new stage
which shall reconcile both elements. Of course this
new stage will not be final — though we are always
apt to look on the stage just ahead of us as if it
were final, because it is what to us seems most
needed. Defects, one-sidedness in it, will show
themselves and need correction, perhaps at first by
opposite exaggerations. The correction may take
place more and more through peaceful debate, in
stead of through fighting. A still higher stage
would be reached when people themselves made
the correction instead of leaving it to a rival party
to do so : the dialectic movement may go on
within the soul.
This seems to me a type of interpretation of human
evolution which is in entire accordance with Darwin's
theory of natural selection, and which yet admits of
what is most valuable in Hegel's dialectic method.
The analysis of the conception of punishment in Mr.
Alexander's Moral Order and Progress (pp. 3 2 7-3 33)
seems to me a most admirable example of such a
reconciliation of Darwinian and Hegelian evolution.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 67
''Punishment in man," says Mr. Alexander, "corre
sponds to the struggle of the dominant variety with
other varieties. . . . We punish in order to ex
tirpate ideals which offend the dominant or general
ideal. But in nature, conflict means the extinction
of individual animals ; in punishment it is sufficient
that the false ideal is extinguished, and it is not
necessary always that the person himself should be
destroyed." Punishment, as Mr. Alexander puts it
in summing up, has three characters : "It is retri
butive in so far as it falls under the general law that
resistance to the dominant type recoils upon the
resistant or guilty creature : it is preventive in so
far as, being a statutory enactment, it aims at
securing the maintenance of the law irrespective of
the individual's character. But this latter charac
teristic is secondary, and the former is compre
hended under the third idea, that of reformation,
which is the superior form under which retribution
appears when the type is a mental ideal and is
affected by conscious persons." This account of
Punishment is Darwinian in its application of the
concept of natural selection. It is Hegelian in its
recognition of the diverse elements that enter into
the idea of punishment, unlike the rival one-sided
theories on the subject ; and it is Hegelian, above
all, in its recognition that what seem the extreme
opposite theories of retribution and reformation are,
after all, different stages of the same concept.
Hegel's treatment of ethical questions agrees with
that of the evolutionists in two main respects — both
68 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
of which have been made grounds of objection to his
philosophy. (i) The complete separation which
Kantian ethics and the ethics of the Intuitionalist
school make between " ought " and "is" tends to
disappear. Hegel protests vigorously against the
philosophical weakness of Fichte's perpetual Sollen,
and seems to take up an almost " Philistine " attitude
towards the enthusiasm of the romantic dreamer or
of the reformer indignant with the abuses of society.
Similarly we know that a very general consequence
of the evolutionary and historical view of society has
been to aid the reaction against the revolutionary
appeal to " natural rights," and to support a political
and social conservatism of the type so brilliantly
illustrated in this country by Burke. And in ethics
the evolutionary moralists tend to do away with the
distinction between moral laws and laws of nature,
to treat moral action as not distinct in kind from
action in general. (2) Hegel's ethics are a part of
his " Philosophy of Law" ; the familiar separations
between politics and ethics, between society and
the individual, appear only as aspects of what can
not properly be thought of apart from each other.
So, too, ethics to the evolutionist is a branch of
sociology. And to both Hegel and the evolutionist
the reproach is sometimes made that they ignore the
significance of personality.
Now, first, as to Hegel's too passive acquiescence
in fact, let me admit, once for all, that that is the
great flaw in his practical philosophy. All wisdom
seemed to culminate in Hegel's Encyclopedia, all
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 69
history in the Prussian bureaucracy of 1820; and
Hegel's orthodox disciples were ready to weep that
there remained no more realms for the world-spirit
to conquer. But this 4< finality" is an inconsistency
in Hegel's application of his philosophy. The same
dialectic movement, which had brought the human
spirit to the stage at which Hegel found it and inter
preted it, must urge man onwards. Yet Hegel's error
is only the exaggeration of his perfectly sound feel
ing that the philosopher as such has mainly to do with
what has already come into existence — the same
sound feeling which, as I have already shown, makes
him insist that the philosophy of nature must follow
and cannot anticipate the course of the physical
sciences. Hegel's famous dictum, "The Real is the
Rational," has been a stumbling-block to many, in
spite of what he himself says in explanation of it (in
the Introduction to the Encyclopedia). Mere exist
ence is a very different thing from reality. Professor
Seth (Hegelianism and Personality, p. 203) 1 treats
this distinction as a "quibble" on Hegel's part.
Surely it is a perfectly legitimate use of that fatally
ambiguous word " real." The use of " real " in anti
thesis to " sham " is common enough ; and, as a
matter of fact, it is more of a quibble, when those
who boast themselves " Realists " in philosophy take
advantage of this popular moral connotation of the
term " real " to claim support for themselves in their
polemic against Idealism, when e.g. they tell us that
an atom is something more real than a thought.
1 p. 213 in edit. 2.
/O DARWIN AND HEGEL. [iL
This is true in the sense that the atom must be
thought of as being in space ; but the ordinary mind
takes it as if it meant that the atom is more import
ant. That " the real is the rational " is a doctrine
which is implied in, and may be well illustrated by,
the theory of natural selection. All sorts of variations
occur, i.e., they exist ; but only those that prove to be
of some value persist. Whatever maintains itself must
do so because of some rationality that it has or had.
When the rationality ceases, we have an appearance
and not a reality, a sham that is doomed to perish.
This, as we know, is the one lesson that Carlyle
read in history.
Hegel's temperament and his circumstances led
him to lay less stress on the converse of his propo
sition : " The Rational is the Real." It does not
matter how few hold an opinion now, if their
opinion is what makes for the greater well-being of
society, they have got "the root of the matter" in
them, and their opinion will ultimately prevail. The
Idea, as Hegel himself would say, cannot remain a
mere " ought to be," it must make itself real. It
may take a long time ; but time is indifferent to it.
Similarly, the evolutionist is apt to decry all at
tempts to better the world. He knows that all
institutions, practices, etc., that have established
themselves must have done so because of some
value they had (some rationality) ; but, occupied as
he is in studying past and existing forms, he is apt
not to see the promise in new variations. Certainly
of these new variations (i.e., new ideals, new pro-
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 71
jects, etc.) a great many will fail. Even a man of
inventive genius may make a lot of "unreal" in
ventions. It needs a sort of prophetic intuition to
see what makes for welfare in the future. But, on
the principle of natural selection, whatever institu
tion or type of conduct ceases to serve the well-
being of society is doomed to perish by the working
of those same forces of struggle which at one time
gave it reality and predominance. Whether it
perishes, dragging with it the happiness and the
lives of human beings or not, will depend on
whether it perishes by the mere natural struggle, or
is peaceably set aside by the conscious act of the
reformer, anticipating on behalf of his society and
obviating the cruel process of mere natural selec
tion.
Hegel's philosophic endeavour to see the ration
ality of all established institutions has sometimes
been condemned as an unreasoning optimism. But
we have seen that he does not mean that, " What
ever is, is right." And his optimism is no more
than that faith in the ultimate rationality of the
universe, which is the presupposition (however un
expressed or unrecognised) of all scientific interpre
tation and of all practical effort. Hegel takes this
presupposition quite seriously, and states it explicitly,
by constructing his Encyclopedia ; he has the true
ideal of a philosophic system as the attempt to state
the whole truth about the universe. He errs in so
far as he seems to claim to have himself completed
" an absolute system." It is philosophical to hold
72 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
that the universe is rational ; for all the sciences
presuppose it, and all serious human conduct pre
supposes it : it is rash to be too confident about any
particular interpretation of the rationality of the
small portions of the universe that the sciences (in
cluding history) have as yet explored, or to be too
confident of the adequacy of any particular institu
tions to the demands of the reason, which partly re
veals itself to us and in us, in the development of
human society.1 Hegel, as I have said, gives up
too rashly the rationality of nature ; he also inter
prets too rashly the rationality of human society.
Yet our very dissatisfaction with existing institu
tions, if it leads to serious attempts to better them,
implies a belief (however little formulated) that
human life is based on reason and not on chaos or
deception.
To come to the second great objection made to
Hegel — Professor Seth complains (and with wide
spread sympathy) that in Hegel's system there "is
room only for one Self-consciousness : finite selves
are wiped out, and nature, deprived of any life of
its own, becomes, as it were, the still mirror in
which the one Self-consciousness contemplates it
self" (Hegelianism and Personality, p. i62).2 The
1 Prof. Seth says (in his 2nd edit p. 213, note): "An absolute
system cannot afford to leave any nook or cranny of existence
unexplored." I only defend Hegel's ideal of a philosophical
system ; and that ideal may surely be right, though we have to
admit the inadequacy of any particular performance — even if
it be that of Hegel himself.
2 p. 171 in edit. 2.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 73
individual is supposed to be a fatal objection to
Hegel's system ; he will get in the way of it and
throw it off the rails. But, perhaps, we may recall
George Stephenson's answer to the objection about
the cow getting in the way of the steam-engine :
44 It would be very awkward for the coo." And this
conception of the abstract individual — the favourite
idolon of popular philosophy — is destroyed by the
logic of Idealism, whether in the region of Meta
physics or of Ethics. Of course each of us, if we
had been making the universe, might have made
his own individual self the centre of it ; but logic
teaches us that we cannot think the universe
rightly from our individual point of view, and life
teaches us that we must not live it from our indi
vidual point of view. If we try to do so to any
very great extent, our neighbours may be obliged
to shut us up in an asylum or to hang us, in the in
terest of something that is greater than the indi
vidual self. And so we find that the real individual
is not the individual in isolation from and in distinc
tion from all other individuals, but is a synthesis of
the universal and particular self.
The scientific study of nature shows us that not
only is nature " careless of the single life," but that
even the type or species is transitory, that the in
finite diversity of kinds and individuals does not
exclude the essential unity of nature. And thus the
modern man of science, if he takes to philosophy, is
generally able to appreciate Spinoza. Hegel, how
ever, has risen above the category of substance.
74 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
Self-consciousness is to him the highest category,
and, as Professor Seth admits (p. 89 *), is "our best
key to the ultimate nature of existence as a whole."
But what is this " Self-consciousness " ? Is it God
or is it the individual self, or is it a mere abstract
universal ? Is the critic, who asks these questions,
quite sure what he means by " God," and by the in
dividual " self," and that what he means by these
terms represents an intelligible reality, and not merely
the picture-thinking of ordinary beliefs ? Is it not, at
least, a hypothesis worth taking account of, that in our
consciousness of self we have the clearest manifesta
tion of the unity which science presupposes in the uni
verse ? Hegel admits — in perfect accord with the
most materialistic science — that spirit comes from
nature ; nature is the potentiality of spirit. But, if
we take this conception of potentiality quite seriously,
will it not be nearer the whole truth to say, with
Hegel, that spirit, being out of itself, estranged
from itself in nature, comes to itself in human con
sciousness ? The separateness and isolation of one
self-conscious being from another is only a necessary
consequence of the manifestation of spirit in space
and time. It is the negativity which makes the
manifestation possible. But the " truth" of our
separate selfhoods is only to be found in our ulti
mate unity, which religion calls " God," which ethics
calls " goodness " — a unity which is not the abstract
" One " of the Neoplatonist, but an organic unity
realised in a society which is not a mere aggregate
1 P- 95 of edit. 2.
II.] DARWIN AND HEGEL. 75
of individuals, but a spiritual body animated by that
love which is the highest religious conception of
Deity.
Let me recall what I said before about the con
cept of " Final Cause," or " the Good." Might not
a philosophical theology substitute this concept for
that of " First Cause " ? I shall not enquire how
far the consequences might be favourable to ortho
doxy (of any particular species) or not ; but at least
such a theology would be more in accordance with a
truly ethical religion.
Hegel's critics are puzzled by what seems the
union of mystical theology with " the crudest ma
terialism." Regard his system in its general out
lines (I am not thinking of details or applications)
as a great speculative hypothesis — is it not a strong
argument in favour of this hypothesis that it can at
the same time accept without reserve the results of
scientific discovery, however materialistic they may
seem, and can yet explain, and to some extent
justify, the speculations of those great religious
thinkers who have attempted sincerely, but perhaps
too boldly, to grasp in their thought of God the
whole secret of the universe ? If we may judge by
past experience, all attempts on the part of " In-
tuitionists " to meet Evolutionists on questions of
" origins " are doomed to failure : one untenable
position has to be surrendered after another. The
Idealist makes no such attempt. He only insists
that, after we have had as complete a history as can
be given of how things have come to be what they
76 DARWIN AND HEGEL. [ll.
are, we are justified in looking back from our van
tage ground and seeing in the past evolution the
gradual "unrolling" of the meaning that we only
fully understand at the end of the process. The
process is not completed ; and therefore this attempt
has to be renewed for each generation. But at
every stage it is in the highest that we know that
we must seek the key to the philosophical interpre
tation of nature and of man.
III.
WHAT IS REALITY?1
THE critics of Idealism, so numerous at the present
time, seem to me more ready to uphold against the
claims of thought the superior dignity of the Real,
than to explain what they mean by that very am
biguous term. Our " Realists " nowadays are too
cautious, or too polite, to speak about " the Vul
gar " ; I am compelled to think, however, that like
their predecessors of last century, the Scottish Com
mon-Sense School, they are playing off the vulgar
against the philosophers. Nevertheless, I believe
that the vulgar are being deceived by words, and
that not " Realism " but " Idealism" corresponds to
what the plain man really holds, if he can only be
induced to go behind the deceptive forms of or
dinary speech and think the matter thoroughly out.
This may seem a very rash statement, and I must
endeavour to prove it. What, then, does " real "
mean ?
I. There is, first of all, a sense in which every
sensation or feeling or idea may be described as
" real," if it actually occurs as a psychical event in
1 Reprinted from the Philosophical Review, May, 1892.
77
78 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
the experience of any one. In this sense — it is a
sense rather in favour with some Realist philoso
phers than with the plain man — the real is what
ever is truly in any one's experience and is not
falsely alleged to be so. If a person really, i.e.
truly, sees " blue devils," they are real to him at the
time he sees them, although they become unreal to
him when he recovers health, and although through
out they are unreal to other persons. So, too, one's
dreams, however absurd they may be, are real to one
at the time — more or less. But how do we dis
tinguish dreams from reality ? Is it not by the test
of coherence or persistence in our experience ? If
one's dream-experience in any one dream were to
be perfectly coherent with itself, and if the events
of one dream were always to follow in an intelligible
sequence on the events of the preceding dream, un
doubtedly our dream-life would be as real as our
waking life. But these are two pretty big " ifs,"
and, consequently, all sane and normal persons are
able to distinguish between the merely temporary
and subjective reality of dream-events and the ob
jective reality of what are commonly called real
events. It must be noted that subjective reality is
equally predicable of all feelings and thoughts which
we actually have, whether or not the content or ob
jective reference of these feelings and thoughts turn
out to be valid or not. A distinction, however,
must be made : (a) I may form a mental image of a
dragon, while fully aware that no such creature
exists and that it is a mythical animal ; but (b) people
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 79
who believed in the actual existence of dragons
would, in forming the mental picture of a dragon,
add the idea of its reality. Its essence would for
them involve existence : to us it involves fabulous
existence. Now subjective reality would, I fancy,
be generally limited to (b), the actual occurrence of
a thought with the added suggestion of its objective
reference. When we know that we are dreaming,
we are near waking. When we know that our hal
lucinations are hallucinations, we are on the way to
get rid of them. It is said, correctly I believe, that
if a person sees a ghost sitting in a chair, but can be
induced to sit down boldly as if the ghost were not
there, the ghost will take offence and go away. I
am not personally acquainted with the habits of
ghosts : so I speak under correction. With regard
to feelings, I do not think we can make the same
distinctions as with regard to mental images or
general conceptions which imply some sort of image
or picture to help them out. I cannot have a feel
ing of pain, unless that feeling is subjectively real to
me. I may have a memory or an image of myself
as having pain ; but that cannot be described as a
feeling of pain. In ordinary language more is
meant by the reality of a pain, than the fact that a
person has a feeling of pain : it is implied that the
feeling has causes or grounds such as other persons
would regard as sufficient to produce the feeling of
pain in them. Thus, when any one is induced to
admit that "imaginary pains are, after all, real
pains," or that " sentimental grievances are, after
80 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
all, real grievances," the admission is made with the
consciousness that the phrase is an oxymoron.
II. Of objective reality we have a further test
than coherence in our own experience : and that is
the experience of other persons. If A seems to
himself to see a mouse run across the floor, but if
B, C, D, E, and F, being all present, having good
eyesight, and looking in the same direction, main
tain truly that they saw nothing, A may well doubt
the reality of that mouse, though no one need doubt,
if A be a trustworthy person, that he really had the
perception of a mouse, i.e., some affection of the
nerves of sight plus a judgment. To settle the
question it might be convenient to obtain the opinion
of a sane and fairly hungry cat, whose sense of smell
would confirm or contradict the visual perception of
A. Macbeth sees Banquo's ghost ; but nobody else
does. Banquo's ghost, therefore, has no objective
reality.
The objectively real is not that which stands out
side everybody's mind (if that phrase could have
any meaning), but that which has a validity or pos
sible validity for the minds of several persons who
can agree as to the content of their mental ex
perience. The agreement between the inferences
drawn from the experience of our different senses,
the agreement between the judgments of different
persons, and the harmony of present experience
with the results of our and their previous experience,
constitute between them the test of reality. In all
practical affairs of life we consider ourselves justified
III.] WHAT IS REALITY? 8 1
in regarding any alleged reality with suspicion, if it
cannot be shown to harmonise with the experience
of sane, healthy, and normal persons. What does
not so harmonise can claim, at the most, only sub
jective reality, i.e., reality for the persons having
such abnormal experiences.
The opposition between the " real " and the
" imaginary " is very often supposed to correspond
to the opposition between " sensation " and mere
" thinking." Mere thinking may of course mean
imagining, and then the opposition is to some extent
the same ; but only to some extent even then.
Because there may be sensations (in the psycho
logical sense) or feelings which we may come to
discover to be unreal in exactly the same sense as
thoughts may be unreal ; i.e. they may not fit in
with the rest of our experience and with the experi
ence of sane and healthy persons. The antithesis
between sensations (in the psychological sense) and
thoughts cannot be an absolute one. If by sensation
be meant, not simply the excitation of a nerve (which
may not be felt and so is not psychologically a sensa
tion), but a sensation as felt, and, moreover, felt as
this or that sensation, i.e., discriminated, here we
already have an act of judgment (Aristotle defines
ala-Ova-is as SUVCL/ULIS KpiriKr'i) ; and it is this judgment
which we pronounce to be true or false according as
it corresponds or not to reality (i.e., the rest of our
experience and the experience of other people). A
person hypnotised may be made to feel a sensation
of heat, when there is no cause external to his organ-
D. H. G
82 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
ism to produce the sensation, and not to feel the
prick of a pin where there is an external cause. In
such cases the sensation, or absence of sensation,
not being such as persons in a normal condition
would experience, is not considered to correspond to
reality.
I fancy that to some persons a sensation might
seem to have more reality than a thought, because
the organism is affected in an obvious way in the
case of sensation, either by some external or internal
stimulus, whereas a thought does not so obviously
depend on any organic process, and was in old-
fashioned psychological theories supposed to occur
independently of anything happening in the brain.
But all scientific psychologists would, I imagine,
admit now that thoughts must have their physiologi
cal equivalents just as much as sensations, although
in the former case what happens in the brain is
much more complex, obscure and difficult to dis
cover.
Pleasure and pain seem to have reality in a special
degree : pain in particular forces itself on our con
sciousness in a way which may make mere thoughts
or ideas seem unreal in comparison. But pleasure
and pain are purely subjective feelings. As psychi
cal events they have no more reality than thoughts
as psychical events. When people try to argue one
out of a feeling of pleasure or of pain, they do so by
saying that it is not real ; i.e., it is unimportant, it is
not connected with what is permanent and persistent
in our experience, it is not such as the sane or
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 83
healthy man would feel.1 That is to say, so far as
the meaning of reality is concerned, pleasures and
pains are real or unreal just as thoughts are — sub
jectively real if they are actually experienced by any
one, objectively real if they fit in with the rest of
experience, i.e. if they belong to a coherent and in
telligible system of thought-relations. Thinking
is, therefore, the test of objective reality.
Such a sentence seems far from the plain man's
mode of expression, and I fancy the objection would
be made here that I am ignoring an important dis
tinction : that which is in space is real in a sense in
which that which does not occupy space is not.
Real things, it will be said, are different from ideas.
First of all, let us observe that this statement
about reality is quite inconsistent with that just
noticed about the superior reality of feelings. Feel
ings are not in space : and yet, as we have just seen,
feelings are very real. It is true that sensations
and feelings imply a physiological process that must
take place in space and a body that must be in space.
But in exactly the same sense thoughts imply a
brain which is extended, and they also imply a
society of human beings living and moving in space.
Thus the distinction between sensations and thoughts
is not parallel to the distinction between what is
in space and what is not in space.
Clearly, however, this notion of filling space is a
notion very commonly attached to the real. Let us
1 The fifth meaning of Reality, the ethical meaning, comes in
also, however, in reference to pleasure and pain.
84 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
see what it implies. The sensation of resistance to
muscular movement gives us probably our earliest
notion of reality — notion, I mean, as distinct from
mere feeling, Resistance is offered by one part of
our body to another, and yet both feel : so our
body as both resisting and feeling is specially real to
us. What does not resist, or resists only in a way
not easily recognised, is not thought to be real.
Thus air seems to be emptiness — empty space.
"Airy" is a synonym for " unreal," " imaginary."
Yet to the scientific mind, air is real and space-filling,
besides being not unimportant to human life. To
the scientific mind the space between our earth's
atmosphere and the stars is not empty, but filled by
what is called the luminiferous aether. To the
unscientific mind this does not seem to be real quite
in the same way as stone or clay is real. The more
resisting seems the more real. "Solidity" and
reality are used as convertible terms.
III. Our attention is thus called conspicuously to
the fact that the real world of ordinary belief and
the real world of scientific belief are very different.
Colours, sounds, etc., are translated into their physio
logical and then into their physical "causes"; i.e.,
they are represented as movements in space. The
primary qualities of matter thus seem, from the
scientific point of view, to have greater reality than
the secondary. Not that which is felt, but that
which can be thought in terms of mathematical con
ceptions, has the greater reality to the scientific
mind. A thing really is (to the scientific mind) — that
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 85
way of thinking about it which fits it into its place
in an intelligible system of the universe.
This difference between ordinary and scientific
reality is not the antithesis between the " phenome
nal " and the " real." The real with which science
has to do is what would be the phenomenal, if we
had keener vision ; e.g., what appears at rest to the
naked eye is seen to be in motion if we look through
a microscope. If by reality were meant things-in-
themselves, and not phenomena or possible phe
nomena, then reality would be identical with the un
knowable. Ultimate reality may be the unknowable
to us, as well as the unknown, but it must be that
which would appear to a being possessing complete
knowledge. Complete knowledge is to us a mere
ideal : but the most real world we can know must
be what the world means when we come to think it
out. Thus when science comes to put aside any
theory, such as, e.g., the corpuscular theory of light,
this means that the light-corpuscles are considered
unreal, because their existence conflicts with the less
rapid transmission of light in water than in a vacuum,
etc. The logical tests of the value of any scientific
theory always imply that that alone can be real
which is coherent, which forms part of an intelli
gible system. To say that thinking is the test of
reality may seem to open up the way to the most
mischievous and unscientific delusions of meta
physics : metaphysicians being supposed to be
persons who evolve the world out of their inner
consciousness, instead of making their minds the
86 WHAT IS REALITY? [ill.
passive mirrors of reality (whatever that may mean).
But we are familiar with this test of reality in its
negative form — the inconceivability of the opposite.
This test has sometimes been discredited for two
reasons : —
( i ) Conceiving has been taken to mean represent
ing in a mental image or picture, whereas it is only
in the sense in which conceiving means thinking
that inconceivability can be the test of truth. (2)
We are very apt to suppose we can or cannot think
something, simply because we have not taken all the
conditions into account. Thus, (i) when the infinity
of time or space is discussed, our incapacity to form
a mental picture of infinite time or space has been
taken as if it were a consideration that weighed
against our incapacity to think a limit in time or in
space without contradiction. (2) People used to think
the Antipodes inconceivable, because they thought
of gravity as a force acting in the direction of an ab
solute down : that human beings, constituted in any
such way that we could consider them human beings,
should be able to walk on the lower side of the world
meant, to the disbelievers in the Antipodes, the same
sort of thing as if it were said that we here could
walk like flies on the inside of the roof with our
heads down. Change the meaning of gravitation,
change the meaning of up and down, and it becomes
inconceivable that a man walking in New Zealand
should fall off into the air, since falling off would
mean falling up, which is a contradiction. The obvi
ous difficulty of applying the test safely comes simply
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 87
from the difficulty of being sure that we have ex
hausted all the relevant conditions. And that is why
we can only apply the test easily in very abstract
matters, where we have purposely eliminated all
except the very simplest conditions, e.g., in the mathe
matical sciences. In the case of more complex
subjects the inconceivability of the opposite remains
rather the ideal to which our knowledge approxi
mates. The more thoroughly we understand any
thing, the more we see that it must be so and not
otherwise. To the savage or the child anything
may happen, anything may account for anything : to
the scientific mind the world appears more and more
as a necessary system of thought-relations, " a
materialised logical process," as Professor Huxley
has described the course of nature.1
But, I maybe reminded, "a materialised logical
process " implies a difference between thought and
existence. "What things are," it will be said, "is
one thing ; what we may think about them is another,
and so is what we may say about them. No one, at
least no careful person, would confuse what we say
about things with the real existence of them. Why
should you confuse what we think about them with
their real existence ?"
Now what we, i.e., any particular "we," may
happen to think about them is certainly not their
reality. Their reality is what we ought to think
about them and would think about them if we knew
them completely. That is a big " if" ; for to know
1 See Note at the end of this essay on "Logical Necessity."
88 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
any one thing, the " flower in the crannied wall," or
even a mere atom completely, would be to know
everything. And, if we think out the conception of
omniscience, we shall find that it is identical with
omnipotence. In theological language, the will of
God cannot be separated from the intellect of God
without making God cease to be God and become a
finite, imperfect being with things to be learned and
ends to be attained outside his own nature. The
thoughts of God are the ultimate nature of things,
as Kepler recognised when he said he was " thinking
the thoughts of God after him." The identity of
thought and being- does not imply the identity of any
particular thought with any particular thing (e.g.,
that my idea of one hundred dollars is one hundred
dollars) but that the ultimate reality of things is only
to be found in thought. Even the reality of the
hundred dollars consists not in their being merely
space-occupying things, but in their meaning, their
significance for the thought of more than one human
being ; i.e., their reality is their ideality.
I think I hardly need recur to the suggestion that
reality must be what is in space ; for that would
make our feelings unreal. Nevertheless reality, to
beings constituted as we are, must appear spread out
in space and in time. Yet the very fact that we
know space as space and time as time, i.e., that we
recognise the outside-one-another of things and the
after-one-another of events, proves that in some
sense or other (whether we can explain it or not) we
are not in space and time. Space and time exist
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 89
for thought as forms in which we must perceive
things. But if we ascribe to them an absolute ex
istence, independent of any one's thought, we are
speaking about what we cannot possibly know. Be
cause if we did know them as absolutely existing,
they would no longer exist absolutely. Thought
cannot grasp anything outside itself, " outside
thought" being simply a metaphorical way of saying
"not thought about at all." My thought is, of
course, incomplete ; coming to know more of reality
means that our thought comes to be more coherent,
that it comes to itself.
Ordinary language does indeed always suggest a
dualism of thought and things. Knowing is distin
guished from the known. And the distinction is
necessary for our ordinary thinking, which is picture-
thinking, and takes different aspects as if they were
separable in fact.1 But any philosophical theory of
dualism raises more difficulties than it solves. If
thought and reality are ultimately separated, then we
have to face the question how they can be combined.
How can we ever know anything, if thought and re
ality are ultimately distinct from one another ? Scep
ticism is the logical outcome of dualism, as the history
of philosophy has sufficiently proved.
Is it necessary nowadays to discuss the idea of
1 The acceptance of the antithesis between thought and being,
as a permanent antithesis for philosophy (however convenient and
necessary in psychology and in ordinary language) seems to me
just one of those " abstract accounts " or " reductions to simpler
categories " against which Prof. Seth so strongly protests (Hegelian-
ism and Personality, p. 93, in edit. 2).
9O WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
material substance as something existing apart from
and independently of thinking ? Matter either
means (i) sensations and mental images referred in
thought to past or future sensations — and this is what
matter means to the ordinary person — or (2) it means
the metaphysical hypothesis of an unknown and un
knowable matter-in-itself. But if matter means sen
sations, present, past, and future, it can have no real
existence except for a thinking being which can
relate these sensations and images to one another.
As already said, if sensation means anything more
than a psychical event, it implies judgment ; i.e., an
act of thought. On the other hand, to attempt to
think an unknown and unknowable material sub
stance is to try to get outside thought, which is as
impossible as to get outside one's skin and yet re
main alive.
It might be said, however, that the element of
matter in things is the as yet unknown element.
This, I suppose, is the Aristotelian view. But can
we then say that matter is the real ? If we did, we
should be left with this difficulty, that as knowledge
grows, reality diminishes — a position which the plain
man would hardly be inclined to take up. If the
reality of things be not their intelligibility, but just
that element in them which cannot be known and
cannot be expressed, should we not go on, in the
fashion of Gorgias, to argue that nothing exists, that
reality is that which is not ?
The sciences ultimately refuse to recognise dual
ism. The world is only intelligible by science on the
III.] WHAT IS REALITY? 91
assumption that it forms one coherent system. A
philosophy based on the special sciences cannot re
cognise anything outside the material universe. But
then an examination of the nature of science (a
criticism of the conditions of knowledge) shows us
that the material universe can mean nothing except
for thought.1 Science leads us to Monism ; and
Monism, to be philosophic, must be idealistic.
When all this is said, the feeling somehow comes
up that there must be some confusion between things
and thoughts, between fact and theory. This feel
ing I believe to be entirely due to fallacies of lan
guage, to the habit of picture-thinking and to the
influence of old philosophical theories. What are
facts (to put the question about reality in a different
form) ? Facts are theories. Is sunrise a fact ? It
is a theory, now discarded, to explain some of our
sensations. The reality, we know, is not sunrise
but the rotation of the earth : and yet we are in the
habit of speaking as if sunrise were the reality and the
rotation of the earth the theory. But if we think
the matter out, we see that the reality, by which we
explain, to which we refer, our sensations, is an ob
ject of thought and not of sensation at all. And I
have already shown that objectivity means coherence
of my thinking with that of others.
IV. One sense of the term real need not detain us
1 The two views are not parallels standing on the same plane ;
because materialism logically presupposes idealism. The dis
tinction between thought and matter falls within thought, as will be
pointed out later.
92 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
long — the sense in which we speak of " a real circle,"
meaning a perfect circle. In this sense "the real"
is confessedly " the ideal." We call a figure of wood
or stone or iron a circle only in so far as we can
think it under the form of a perfect circle ; we admit
that the material figure existing in actual space is not
the real circle.
V. Connected with this use of reality, is that in
which real is used in a moral sense, the sense in
which it is held that " The Real is the Rational."
People have scoffed at this utterance of Hegel's ; but
it expresses a truth constantly recognised in practical
life — a truth which people ignore at their hazard.
The real is distinguished from the sham. We go
behind the phenomenal existence of institutions to
examine their ethical content, and we pronounce
them real or unreal. Now this sense fits in with the
main sense of reality as the coherent and intelligible,
except that we bring in a moral standard of value, so
that what is. real, in the sense of not being imaginary,
may yet be unreal, in the sense of being absurd or
mischievous. The precise relationship between
reality in this sense of rationality, and reality in the
general sense of intelligibility, is the initial question
of the science of ethics : what is the relation between
being and well-being ? Does well-being differ from
being except in having respect to more permanence
and to a more complex system of relations ? These
are questions I need not discuss at length now.
Enough, if it is clear that the real in the sense in
which it is said to be the rational, is at least a further
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 93
carrying out the principle that the real is the intelli
gible.
The real as the rational differs from the merely
existent (the objectively real — the second sense
noted) just as definite species in plants or animals
differ from " sports " and from " survivals." If a
variation proves advantageous, it gives rise to a new
species : when a survival comes to be distinctly dis
advantageous, the individuals in which it exists tend
to disappear. The distinction between simple ob
jective reality and reality as rationality thus corre
sponds to the distinction between simple causality and
teleology. In the purely physical sense the real is
what can be thought of and must be thought of in
the causally connected system which we call the
nature of things. In the moral sense the real is
what can be and must be thought of as serving an
end, as having a value.
This moral sense of reality is extremely common
in ordinary language. " Real jam " (to quote a vul
gar expression) is the genuine article with no hum
bug about it. Now when the Realist Philosopher
insists that an atom is more real than a thought, the
vulgar are deceived ; for they fancy that this means
that an atom is more important than a thought,
whereas all that it means is that an atom occupies
space, while a thought does not. A thought, even
a foolish thought, belongs to a higher type of exist
ence than an atom.
Yes, it will be said, but does not such a phrase
admit that existence is wider than thought, if thought
94 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
is only some particular kind of existence ? This
merely quantitative way of stating the problem might
well be objected to. But passing that over, let us
admit that, from the point of view of the physicist, if
the ultimate physical reality of material things were
to be found in atoms, then it would be true that
there could be no thought without atoms ; so that
thought would be resolved into atoms as the ultimate
reality. That would be true, from the point of view
of the physicist ; but philosophy is the endeavour
to speak not merely the truth, but the whole truth.
And so we have to go further and ask what an atom
would be except for thought ? Will any Realist
undertake to tell us what an atom is, unless it is
either a way of thinking which we find convenient
in trying to think out the nature of things, or an
unknown and unknowable which he can neither
think nor express ? l
That within reality we can make a distinction be
tween greater and less reality may be used as an
argument to prove that the universe contains an ele
ment which cannot be rational : in other words that
Thought finds itself confronted by an irrational
" Other" (Oarepov). So that we seem thrown back
1 Cf. Prof. K. Pearson's Grammar of Science^ pp. 210, 215,
where it is said that an atom is a conception, a mode by the aid of
which the scientist resumes the world of sense. Prof. Pearson's
plentiful abuse of metaphysicians may commend his (unacknow
ledged) Neo-Kantianism to scientific readers : I call it 7V£<?-Kan-
tianism, because it is a sort of Kantianism minus " things-in-them-
selves." By " Grammar of Science " Prof. Pearson evidently
means a criticism of scientific categories.
III.] WHAT IS REALITY? 95
on the Platonic dualism. And, if this argument be
combined with the feeling which lurks even in the
mind of the convinced idealist — that thought and
things are not ultimately identical — does not this
dualism seem to have good grounds ?
It must be admitted that, unless thought had an
other over against it, we never could call anything
in our experience imperfect or evil — nay more, we
could have no knowledge of the kind we now have.
The problem of knowledge seems to leave us with
this dilemma : — If thought has ultimately an alien
something to confront it, there can be knowledge ;
but if thought merely thinks itself, there can be no
knowledge. Of this dilemma I can see only one
solution— and it is one which I know many persons
will consider nonsensical — the metaphysical hypo
thesis that thought makes its own other, i.e., that the
distinction falls within the identity. I have called
this a metaphysical hypothesis, but I believe it to
be much more, and to be the ultimate fact to which
every avenue in philosophy leads. In Logic, abstract
identity brings us to a deadlock : so would abstract
difference. Identity cannot exclude difference nor
difference identity. In the evolution of the physical
universe, the rationality of the process can only be
manifested in the chaotic multiplicity and variability
of nature. We cannot know anything except by
thought getting its material from sensation and
feeling. Good has no meaning to us save in reference
to imperfection and evil. But all these distinctions
fall within thought — in its widest sense. In theo-
96 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
logical language, God is both transcendent and
immanent : nothing in the world is outside God and
yet God is not simply the sum of particular exist
ences. This idea of Thought realising itself in
nature, its own " other," in order to return into
itself, seems the only way out of the difficulties of the
philosophical problems. If it is asked "Why should
the Absolute be this self-differentiating unity ? " l
I cannot answer that question, because to explain
the whole universe would mean that one could get
outside the whole universe, which is impossible and
absurd.
I come now to what may be thought the most
formidable objection of all, though an answer to it
seems to me to be contained in what has just been
said. As all thought has to work with universals,
thought, it is urged, never can be adequate to the
fulness of Reality. " The individual alone is the
real." 2
Very good ; but what is the individual ? In what
sense are we to take this old Nominalist objection ?
(i) Is everything to be called an individual that
can be thought of, or spoken of, as " one ?" I have
heard of a preacher who wished to prove that all
nature testified to Unity — a very good thesis — but
he tried to get at his conclusion by a short cut.
1 I do not say "Why should the Absolute differentiate itself? "
because that might imply that the Absolute could be a unity
without difference.
2 Cp. Prof. Seth, Hegelianism and Personality, p. 128 [in ed.
2, P- I35]-
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 97
" There is one sun, there is one moon, there is one
great multitude of stars." The one great multitude
of stars, nay, even our one solar system, is only one
in the same sense that humanity is one, or a nation
is one (though a nation or a solar system is one in
a much fuller sense than a mere multitude is). If
the individual is identical with the real, it must
follow either that the great multitude of stars is an
individual or that it is not real. I suppose it would
be answered " The individual star is real ; the collec
tive unity is merely a creation of our thought."
(2) Well, then, is the individual whatever can be
expressed by a single term ? Popular belief, would,
I fancy, consider a noun substantive to express
greater reality than an adjective, because the real
is thought of as substance rather than as attribute.
But, if the real is the individual, we are limited to
singular terms — not the horse, but this horse. But
if this horse be allowed to be an individual, what is
to be said of this lump of clay ? Is that more an
individual than this great multitude of stars ? Are
we not falling a prey to the popular habit of speak
ing of every thing as if it were an ultimate reality
incapable of analysis ? What is any individual
thing except a meeting point of universal attributes ?
Qualities are all universals : are we then to say that
they are not real ? This would be in strange con
flict with what the plain man believes. If the
redness and the heaviness and the stickiness of the
lump of clay are put aside as being only universals,
what remains except that metaphysical phantom of
D. H. H
98 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
the thing-in-itself ? Even if we deal with the
organic, the individual organism for science and for
ordinary belief is an individual only from some
points of view ; it is a collection of units from other
points of view. This horse is an individual ; but so
is this hair out of this horse's tail. So is every cell
of which its body is composed. If we take "in
dividual" strictly we must get back to atoms. But
the qualities of the atoms, if they have any, must be
universals. If they have no qualities, not even
impenetrability nor indivisibility, are they even
atoms ? Are they not fictions of our minds — con
venient or otherwise ?
(3) It might be answered that qualities are real,
but only as individual sensations. I have already
shown that the individual sensation is not at all what
the plain man understands by reality. The in
dividual sensation is an abstraction, a metaphysical
phantom, except as my sensation or your sensation,
and except as discriminated from other sensations,
i.e. except as interpreted by thought. The feeling
of the moment is real only in that sense of the
term which is least familiar to the unsophisticated
mind.
(4) Well, then, is the individual the conscious
self which has sensations ? Are the ultimate "reals "
monads or spiritual atoms ? This is a possible
metaphysical speculation, and by the help of it a
very pretty picture of the universe may be made,
a sort of glorified or "animated" atomism.1 But is
1 For an excellent example of such a speculation see Riddles of
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? 99
it not a speculation which results simply from taking
literally the popular Vorstellung of independent
individual persons, while discarding the popular
Vorstellung of independent individual things ?
Berkeley applied analysis to material substances and
resolved them into "ideas" (i.e., sensations //z/s
images of sensations) ; and yet he left a world of
individual spiritual substances existing alongside of
one another. Hume applied to mind the same
analysis which Berkeley had applied to matter, and
resolved mind into its component parts also. If by
the " self" we mean the person who is born, grows
up, dies — the concrete phenomenal ego — what the
ordinary man would call the "real person " — is this
strictly individual ? In the waste and restoration of
the bodily tissues there is a constant transition be
tween the organism and the environment : and the
same holds with respect to the mind or spirit. So
much is inherited, i.e., represents a mere part of
a continuous stream ; so much is constantly being
acquired from the physical and social environment.
Self-identity is not an immediate datum of conscious
ness : it is a matter of inference. I think of myself
as the permanent substance of which particular
actions, feelings, etc., are predicable. But the real
self is not a bare unity : the real human individual
the Sphinx, by " A Troglodyte." (Published by Sonnenschein,
London, 1891.) To this work, as well as to that of Prof. Seth,
just quoted, I may refer the reader who cares to know what
objections to Idealism I had specially before my mind in writing
this paper.
IOO WHAT IS REALITY ? [I1L
is his ancestry and his age epitomised. What we
call " originality " is a new combination of elements
already there. If there is any difference between
a person and a thing in respect of individuality,
it is a difference in degree only and not in kind.
Spiritual substance, like material substance, is either
simply a meeting point of universal qualities or a
metaphysical phantom 1 — like the geometrical ab-
1 Prof. Seth in a ?wte'm the 2nd edition of his Hegelianism and
Personality, p. 136, objects to this statement that it would imply
that my own existence, for myself, " is no more than a cluster of
abstractions." By no means: my existence "for myself" is not
that of a spiritual substance but of a conscious subject (as recog
nised throughout this paper.) The real self, the self which feels
and knows, in distinction from the self we talk about as an object,
cannot correctly be represented as a substance or thing. Prof.
Seth, in another note added to his 2nd edition (p. 231), clearly
disclaims the metaphysical theory of " isolated self-existent reals."
" Each finite individual," he says, " has its place within the one real
universe, or the one real Being, with all the parts of which it is
inseparably connected. But the universe is itself an individual or
real whole, containing all its parts within itself and not a universal
of the logical order containing its exemplifications under it." Now
this is practically identical with what I say in the next paragraph
about the ultimate real individual which = the universe. I am
glad to see that, after all, I am on the same side with Prof. Seth
as against "the realist." If p. 64 of Prof. Seth's ist edition be
compared with the corresponding p. 69 of the 2nd, a very con
siderable modification in expression will be observed. Instead of
speaking of separate individuals as being " absolutely and for
ever exclusive," he now writes " whatever may be the mode of
their comprehension within the all-containing bounds of the
Divine life, it is certain that, as selves, it is of their very essence
to be relatively independent and mutually exclusive centres of
existence." With the revised version of this passage I am de
lighted to find myself in agreement.
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? IOI
straction of a point treated as if it were a real thing.
"But," it will be said, "there is the difference of
consciousness." Well, if by reality be meant con
sciousness, an idealist is not likely to quarrel with
the statement. But then, I suspect, the realist means
by consciousness simply an attribute of a substance :
he has got his Vorstellung of spiritual substance in
the background.
(5) If, however, the self be taken to mean, not
an object existing among other objects, but the
siibject logically implied in all knowledge, the
"Transcendental Ego" which we never can know
o
as an object, and which therefore we never can
"get behind," that may be allowed to be the ulti
mate reality. But that is individual only in the
sense in which the unity of the cosmos is individual :
and that, I fancy, is hardly what the realist means
to mean. " Nothing in the world is single " —
except the whole world itself: and that is not "in"
the world.
We often hear it argued " thought implies a
thinker." True, but a thinker is not necessarily
a thinking substance : a thinker is a thinking sub
ject. All that is immediately given in conscious
ness is the mere Ego, the mere self-ness, a unique
and individual appearance in the moment of feeling
or thinking or willing.1 As already said, a feeling
is only real, in the lowest sense of reality, as my
1 In the act of judgment, involved in all perception, I compare
and put together the experiences of different times, but only as
present now to my consciousness.
IO2 WHAT IS REALITY? [ill.
feeling, a thought as my thought. This absolute
subjectivity is the ultimate reality : we never can
get behind it. That other persons are, each of
them, subjects in the same way we know only by
inference. That the " I " is the same in different
moments of our own experience we know only by
inference. It is an inference also, that the transcend
ental Ego is identical in any way with the pheno
menal Ego (what we call our " real self," though it
is not the self that knows, but the self as object).
The mode of that identity is a matter of speculative
hypothesis, as is also the question whether or in
what way it is the same or different in different
persons. " I " is experienced directly ; or rather it
is " I " alone that experiences. " You" is a matter
of inference. The relation of " I " to "you," " they,"
etc., is a matter of hypothesis.
An analysis of the nature of the logical judgment
gives the same result. The subject of every logical
judgment is ultimately " I." " I am such that A is
B." " I experience (I feel or I think) A B" Recent
writers on logic generally lay down that " Reality "
is the ultimate subject. " Reality is that which
. . . ," or " Reality is such that . . ." This
comes to the same thing. The only fault I can find
with the latter formula for the ultimate logical judg
ment, is that reality is a notion capable of farther
analysis, whereas the mere " I " is not. Whether
we say that judgment always contains a reference to
and implies " Reality " or " the unity of the cosmos "
or " I " is a matter of indifference to the science of
III.] WHAT IS REALITY? IO3
logic. The last term seems to me preferable philo
sophically, simply because then the judgment is
expressed in a way that corresponds most exactly
to our actual experience. Thus, if we examine
judgment in its simplest form, where it is just be
coming differentiated from mere inarticulate cries, we
find a predicate such as " hot," " hungry," " happy,"
44 sore," "[it] hurts." Now the subject of these
predicates, the x which may be expressed in our
language by the impersonal pronoun, but which in
many languages is not expressed at all, may be de
scribed as being either " the nature of things " or
"I," but " I " seems to me nearer the exact truth
of experience.
We may picture the universe as a multitude of
centres of circles, recognising that every one is the
centre of his own universe — just as each of us sees
a different rainbow ; but such a picture is the result
of inference and hypothesis. In strict truth (and
that is what Philosophy is concerned with) we never
get outside one circle, nor away from one centre. I
may admit the truth of judgments about other persons
and other things, when stated without any reference
to my consciousness ; but strictly speaking they are
only true to me (and that is what I mean by truth)
when this reference is introduced.
The distinction, noticed at the beginning of this
essay, between subjective and objective reality is a
distinction which falls within what one may call the
absolute subjectivity (or the essential relativity—
they mean the same thing) of all reality. When we
IO4 WHAT IS REALITY ? [ill.
distinguish the particular self, the self with a history
in time, from the not-self generally and from other
selves, then we distinguish between the subjective
and the objective. But this particular self is, as I
have shown, not an individual incapable of further
analysis, but like other things it is a unity of the
manifold, an identity with differences in it. The
ultimate subject of knowing, the ultimate reality, is
incapable of further analysis, in the sense that we
cannot get behind or round it : we cannot know it
as an object like other objects. But on the other
hand it only becomes properly " real," knowledge
only passes from mere possibility into actuality, by
the recognition of differences, of a manifold, within
consciousness.
When the "I" is treated psychologically, it is made
into an object. We are not any longer dealing with
the strict truth or genuine reality of it ; we are deal-
with an abstracted material as in all the other special
sciences. Philosophy must take account of the fact
that everything we can know is within the " I."
The knowledge of reality is thus the " I " coming to
know itself, i.e., its content. " God " must be thought
of as the " I " completely actualised, the absolute
" subject-object." We are aware that we never can
know anything fully. The " I " is always striving
for a more complete realisation, seeking to become
"real," in the moral sense, i.e., to be more adequate
to what it professes to be.
Except as to this ultimate question we need have
no quarrel with the realist, and are quite as ready to
III.] WHAT IS REALITY ? IO5
talk of " thought conforming to reality " as we are
to talk of sunrise and sunset, although in both cases
we have accepted the " Copernican " theory. We
might even get at the same ultimate result, although
we accepted provisionally the point of view of
ordinary language and of the special sciences. If
we abstract from the mode in which alone we can
know the world, we may talk of phenomena as
having behind them a thing-in-itself, and we may
call that the ultimate reality. The tendency of
modern science is to regard all the various phenomena
of nature as different manifestations of one " Energy."
Consciousness or thought is then simply the highest
form of energy which we know. (Will itself is not
the highest form : for rational volition implies
thought.) If we call energy (or material substance
or anything else) the potentiality of which thought
is the realisation, and if we take these notions of
potentiality and realisation quite seriously, we are
arriving from a starting point of " dogmatic materia
lism " at the same result as if we started with a
philosophical theory of knowledge : the ultimate
reality is thought. But unfortunately the uncritical
metaphysics of the ordinary and of the scientific
understanding does not generally take the notion of
potentiality quite seriously. Hence it is necessary
to follow the longer route of philosophical criticism.1
1 Criticisms on this paper by Mr. F. C. S. Schiller, a reply by
myself and a rejoinder by Mr. Schiller will be found in the Philo
sophical Review, Vol. I., No. 5, and Vol. II., No. 2. Save for two
slight explanatory phrases, which I have inserted to meet some
IO6 NOTE ON LOGICAL NECESSITY.
NOTE ON LOGICAL NECESSITY.
WHEN John Stuart Mill maintains that there is no neces
sity except the necessity of logical inference,1 he seems to
me to maintain what is perfectly true, although he does
not recognise the full implication of what he has said, and
although he has himself, in his theory of inference, elimin
ated the very element of necessity which he here seems to
assert.
(1) Physical necessity, or the necessity of the causal
nexus (If A happens, B must happen) is simply equivalent
to a necessity of inference from A to B. The supposition
of a force or power in A to move B — the view of causality
against which Hume and Mill rightly protest — is a survival
of primitive animism, We fill up the content or connota
tion of cause ex analogia hominis. We think of one billiard
ball giving the other a shove, etc. In scientific thought
and speech, we only assert that A and B are so related
within the system of nature that from A we can certainly
infer B. There is no absolute gap between " reasons " in
geometry and causes in physics [cf. p. 153, note].
(2) What then of axioms ? Their necessity is not any
mere psychological readiness to believe them (the theory
which Mill supposes to be the a priori theory he has to
overthrow) ; their necessity consists in their being logically
involved in the possibility of any science whatever. They
are proved per impossible (Kant's " transcendental " proof
objections of my critics, I leave the paper (apart from purely
verbal corrections) as originally printed, as I do not yet feel
driven to desert the position adopted in it. I could not attempt
to deal with all objections, without making it unduly lengthy.
1 Cf. Logic, Book II. ch. v. § i. Edit. 8, Vol. I. p. 262 : "The
only sense in which necessity can be ascribed to the conclusion
of any scientific investigation, is that of legitimately following
from some assumption, which, by the conditions of the inquiry, is
not to be questioned."
NOTE ON LOGICAL NECESSITY. 1 07
— a most unhappy adjective). Logical necessity is the
necessity of consistency, of coherence in thought. Con
sistency is, as I have said, our negative test of reality.
Complete consistency (to us a mere ideal) would be a posi
tive test. To say that through natural selection our minds
have become such that they require to believe in the
uniformity of nature, is to give what seems the most
probable historical account of the development of human
thought ; but it is no logical solution of the question
about the ultimate relation of thought to reality, it only
restates the fact that Nature, in the only sense which it
can have for the scientific man, is a rational system, whose
"laws" are the logical necessities of our thought. If we
ask why this should be so, there is first of all, an answer
with which some persons profess to be satisfied : The neces
sity, it is held, is merely subjective ; what " nature " really
is, we do not know. Observe, it is generally assumed, that
we know somehow (but how ?) that there is a reality " be
hind " the phenomena— a survival from old metaphysics in
the minds of those who boast that they are not meta
physicians. It seems to me an odd use of the word "real "
to make it mean what stands in no relation to our lives.
Secondly, dissatisfied with this "positivism" or subjective
idealism, with or without a hypothetical " realism " in the
background, we may be content to fall back upon the
dualism of popular language, and assume a " parallelism "
between our thought and the nature of things. But the
demands of philosophical criticism will hardly allow us to
rest satisfied with this metaphor of parallelism, which easily
leads us back into the other metaphors of mirrors, waxen
tablets, etc. Knowledge is not possible, if thought and
things confront each other as alien substances. Is it not
the better hypothesis (not to call it anything more) that
our thought is in some way identical with the reason in
things ? Logical necessity is the necessity, not merely of
this or that individual mind, nor of a sum of individual
minds, but of thought as such, and therefore of the universe.
108 NOTE ON LOGICAL NECESSITY.
(3) In regard to human actions, Mill shows quite well
(Logic, Book VI. ch. ii.) that the necessity presupposed by
any science such as psychology or sociology, is, as with
physical phenomena, simply necessity of inference. On
the other hand, moral necessity (if the phrase be used for
a moral precept, " You must, i.e., ought to, do so and so ")
is a totally different thing. A political or moral law is the
statement of an ideal ; it puts forward one motive for con
duct among other motives. It is through association with
this sense of " must" (implying a command with threats of
penalties) that our understanding of physical necessity is
apt to be vitiated (see below, pp. 174-177).
IV.
ON PLATO'S PHAEDO.1
I.
BEFORE we can answer the questions : "What are
Plato's arguments about the soul's nature and des
tiny?" " What is their relation to one another?"
" What is their value ? " we are obliged to consider
how far the expressions used by him are to be under
stood literally.
Plato's visions of another world have fixed them
selves indelibly in the common consciousness of
Western civilisation. We hardly know, without the
most careful examination, how many of those beliefs
that are often spoken of as if they were peculiar to
Christianity, are due directly or indirectly to Platonic
influence. Thus, even if it should be the case that
the mythical element in Plato is (as Hegel 2 holds)
quite unessential in his philosophy, or (as Teich-
miiller3 holds) not believed in at all by Plato him-
1 Read before the Aristotelian Society (London) on Nov. 30,
1885, and published in Mind, Vol. XL, No. 43.
2 Geschichte der Phil., ii. 207 ff.
3 Studien zur Gesch. der Begriffe and Ueber die Unsterblichkeit
der Seek. Some criticisms of the late Prof. Teichmiiller's on this
paper of mine will be found in his Religionsphilosophie (Breslau,
109
no ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
self, this mythical element would still deserve the
attention of all students of human thought, both as
taking up previous Pythagorean, Orphic, probably
Egyptian and perhaps Indian ideas, and as influenc
ing all the Hellenic and Roman world, i.e., what we
commonly call the whole world. And, in any case,
the mythical form of expression must throw some
light on Plato's habitual manner of thinking ; for we
cannot abstractly separate form and content, expres
sion and thought.
Let us take the three characteristic Platonic " doc
trines " of Recollection, Pre-existence and Transmi
gration, and endeavour to discover in what sense
they are to be understood.
i. The doctrine of Recollection (ai/a/^o-t?) occurs
both in the Meno and the Phcedo. " Knowing is
remembering." This theory seemed to obviate the
Sophistic puzzle about the impossibility of learning :
— We either learn what we already know or what
we don't know : in the first case we don't learn ; in
the second case, we can't (cf. Meno, 80 E). This
is just one of those instances where the Aristotelian
distinction of potentiality and actuality comes at
1886), p. 502. Prof. Vera in his monograph entitled Platone e Fim-
mortalita dell' anima (Naples, 1881), to which Dr. J. Hutchison
Stirling kindly directed my attention, maintains a theory very
much like Teichmiiller's, except that he would treat Plato's
"myths" as approximations, "serious jests" — the world itself
being such. " II giuoco e 1'involucro, la parvenza dell' idea, cioe
la poesia." But, as he says philosophy is essentially " esoteric,"
his general attitude to Plato comes to be the sain e as that of
Teichmiiller.
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 1 1 1
once to our help, We learn what we are capable of
knowing : we cannot learn what is quite alien to us.
But the knowledge, which in some form is there
already, is there only virtually, and requires the effort
of what we call learning to become actual, to be
realised, to become what we can properly call know
ledge. Plato in the Thecetetiis (which in many re
spects may be called the most " modern" of all his
dialogues, for in it he discusses, not the usual ancient
question of Being, but the modern question of Know
ing) does arrive at this Aristotelian distinction in his
recognition of the difference between " possessing "
and "having or holding," illustrating it by the birds
in a cage (Thecet.y 197) ; but it remained for Aris
totle to grasp the full significance of this distinction,
which has become so much a commonplace of our
language and our thought that it requires an effort to
see its importance and to understand how the prob
lems of knowledge presented themselves before the
time of Aristotle. Now, this is just the philosophic
truth of Plato's theory of Recollection: in learning
the mind is not filled with something alien to it, — as
popular language, now as then, is inclined to assume,
and as even some philosophers have been apt to
suppose, e.g., when they ask how Mind can know
Matter, after defining Matter in such a way that it is
of its very essence, as the exact antithesis of Mind,
that it cannot be known. According to Plato, in
learning the soul recovers its own. This is more
than a theory of knowledge merely. In the Phcedrus
it becomes a theory of art and morality as well. The
ii2 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
ideal of beauty, the ideal of goodness, is figured as
something we have once known and have to regain.
And are we not all ready to speak and think in this
way ? What is the meaning of the phrase " Natural
Rights," which popular politicians have not yet
given up, and which even Mr. Herbert Spencer de
fends against Bentham and Mr. Matthew Arnold ?
We have come to form an ideal of society, and we
speak as if that were a state from which we had
fallen away. We transfer the "ought to be" to
" once upon a time" — a golden age, "a past that
never was a present," The same tendency of imagin
ation may be found in the treatment of the term
"a priori!' A priori conceptions, in Kant's use of
the term, are those which are necessarily implied or
presupposed in knowledge. How often is the
Kantian theory of knowledge criticised as if Kant
had meant that the infant comes into the world with
a ready-made logic ? We become explicitly con
scious of the necessary conditions of our thinking
very late, if at all ; but the conditions are there im
plicitly all the same. In the word " presupposed "
there again slips in the suggestion of priority in time.
The doctrine of Recollection has been made most
familiar to us by Wordsworth's Ode. But this, we
may well say with J. S. Mill (though I know not
whether in his sense), is " falsely called Platonic."
Wordsworth makes life a gradual decline : Plato
makes it a progress. To Wordsworth it is a for
getting : to Plato a remembering. In Wordsworth
the child is nearer heaven than the full-grown man :
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 1 1 3
in Plato the full-grown man, if he has used his time
well, has regained much of what he lost by birth.1
Wordsworth's beautiful fancy owes more to the
sentimentalism of Rousseau than to Plato's ideal
ism.
How far was Plato conscious that his doctrine of
Recollection was only a Vorstellung representing a
Begriff, an expression in terms of a history in time
of what is really a logical development ? The theory
of Education in the Republic seems to supply an
answer. It is sometimes said that in the Republic
Plato applies the theory of ideas at which he was
arriving in the Meno, but that he has given up the
doctrine of Recollection at least as an essential part
of his theory of knowledge (though it is alluded to
in the " myth " at the end, 621 A). Now I shall
assume as a canon of interpretation in the case of
Plato, as of any other philosopher, that we must
start with the supposition that his thinking is
coherent, and that we must begin by looking for
agreement rather than for disagreement. On the
other hand, we cannot put the canon in the form in
which Prof. Teichmuller and Mr. Archer- Hind put
it — "That any interpretation of Plato which attri
butes inconsistency to him stands self-condemned."2
Consistency is a very poor virtue to ascribe to Plato:
1 This has been pointed out by Mr. Archer-Hind in his edition
of the Phcedo, p. 85.
2 Edition of the Phczdo, p. 24. Mr. Archer-Hind cannot mean
this to be taken too literally, because he certainly admits a de
velopment in Platonic doctrine.
D. H. I
ii4 °N PLATO'S PHAEDO. |_iv.
it would imply that his system sprang ready-made
from his head and that it admitted of no growth — a
view seriously maintained by Schleiermacher, who
regards the order (i.e., the order which he conjectur-
ally prefers) of the dialogues as representing an
order adopted for purposes of exposition and not an
order of development in the writer's mind. When,
therefore, in the Republic, we find Education de
scribed as " the turning round of the eye of the
soul to behold the truth," : it seems reasonable to
identify this with the theory of Recollection divested
of its mythical setting : but we are not therefore
justified in arguing that this mythical setting never
had any real significance for Plato himself.
2. If the doctrine of Recollection be merely a
figurative way of expressing the logical nature of
knowledge, what becomes of the Pre-existence of
the Soul about which so much is said, not only in
the Meno, Phcedo and Phcedrus, but in the end of the
Rep^cblic itself? The pre-existence of the soul is
" proved" in \he.Phado sooner and more easily than
1 Rep., vii. 518 B, C. "Certain professors of education must
be mistaken in saying that they can put a knowledge into the soul
which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes. . . .
Whereas our argument shows that the power (Swa/ws) is already
in the soul ; and that as the eye may be imagined unable to turn
from darkness to light without the whole body, so too, when
the eye of the soul is turned round, the whole soul must be
turned round from the world of becoming into that of being, and
learn by degrees to endure the sight of being and of the brightest
and best of being, or, in other words, of the Good." (Jowett's
Translation, according to which most of the other quotations in
this paper are given.)
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 1 1 5
its existence after death ; and all the arguments in
the Pkcedo, as well as the argument in the Pkce-
drus, prove existence after death only in such a way
that existence before birth is necessarily implied also.
This is not the case with the argument in the
Republic, although the "Vision of Er" introduces
pre-existence as much as do the Apocalypses of the
Ph<zdo and Phadrus. Mr. Archer- Hind goes so
far as to say : "It is in fact impossible to bring for
ward any sound arguments for the future existence
of the soul which do not also involve its previous
existence, its everlasting duration. The creational
theory is matter of dogmatic assertion, not of philo
sophical discussion " (p. 19). The idea of pre-exist
ence was rejected by most Christian theologians,
because it seemed inconsistent with the creation of
the human soul by God. (It was accepted by
Origen ; but then Origen was not accepted by the
Church.) Quite consistently, the idea of a necessary
immortality of the soul was rejected by most of the
early Christian theologians. It is only later theology
that has fallen back on the metaphysical doctrine of
immortality.
As «we have obviously, in the ordinary sense of
the term, no recollection of having existed before
our birth, it might be argued that, since Plato puts
the existence of the soul after death on the same
level with its existence before birth, either (i) he did
not seriously hold the immortality of the soul at all,
or (2) the immortality in which he believed was not
what people ordinarily mean, or think they mean, by
1 1 6 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
immortality, since it does not imply consciousness
and memory ; Plato, it might be said, maintains an
individual but not a personal immortality, i.e., the
individual soul remains permanently self-identical,
but consciousness and memory pass away at death.1
It is somewhat strange that Plato should have made
no reference to this very obvious objection, that if
after death we are as little conscious of an identity
with our present selves as we are now of any identity
with a self before our birth, the immortality of the soul
cannot matter to us. As Hume says : " The soul if
immortal existed before birth : and if the former
existence noways concerned us, neither will the
latter" (Essay ''On the Immortality of the Soul").
Yet the objection evidently was made in ancient
times,2 because there is an attempted answer in a
fragment of Aristotle's lost dialogue Eudemus, pre
served to us by Proclus : " Aristotle," says Proclus,
" tells us the reason why the soul coming hither from
the other world forgets what she there has seen, but
going hence remembers her experience here. Some
who journey from health to sickness forget even
their letters, but this happens to no one who passes
1 In this sense of the terms Teichmiiller (Unsterblichkeit der
Seek, pp. 147-149) maintains that individual immortality can be
apodeictically proved, but that personal immortality cannot be
apodeictically proved or disproved. He holds, however, as we
shall see, that Plato's idealism prevents him maintaining even
individual immortality.
2 It is to be found in Athenaeus, Dcipnosophistac, xi. 117 (507
e, f). Cf. Lucretius, III. 830-869. But the fragment of Aristotle,
if genuine, is the earliest evidence of this objection.
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 117
from sickness to health. Now the life without the
body, being the natural life of the soul, is like health,
the life in the body like disease. Whence it is that
they who come from the other world forget what is
there, but they who go thither remember what they
experiencd here" (Arist, 1480 b. 5, Fr. 35, Edit.
Berol.). We cannot say how far Aristotle, when he
wrote the Eudemus> may have seriously or half-
seriously meant what he said. We cannot cer
tainly decide whether in his opinions about the soul
he passed through an early "Platonic" stage (as
Zeller thinks, Arist., p. 602), or whether he was
writing a Platonic dialogue more or less as a literary
exercise, or whether the dialogues, being (as Bernays
thinks) merely ''exoteric discourses," must not be
taken as evidence of Aristotle's genuine philosophical
views. We know of course from the De Anima
that Aristotle held no doctrine of either individual or
personal immortality. But the passage quoted by
Proclus may be taken as representing the answers
which would have been made in a Platonic dialogue
to an objector. It certainly agrees perfectly with
the position of the Pk&do, according to which this
life is a temporary imprisonment of the soul.
3. The idea of Metempsychosis or Transmigration
has been more widely held than any other view about
the destiny of the soul, and has even in modern times
been regarded as that most capable of philosophical
defence. Thus Hume says, in the Essay I have
already quoted : "The Metempsychosis is the only
system of this kind that Philosophy can hearken to."
1 1 8 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
Hume may be writing ironically, maintaining the
doctrine least acceptable to his enemies, the theo
logians, to be the most plausible. But no such
suspicion attaches to the famous passage in which
Lessing at the close of his Erziehung des Menschen-
geschlechtes (§§ 93-100) says : " Why may not each
individual man have been more than once present
in this world ? Is this hypothesis so ridiculous be
cause it is the oldest? . . . It is well that I
forget that I have already been here. The recollec
tion of my previous condition would only let me
make a bad use of my present. And what I must
forget for the present, have I forgotten for ever?
. . . Is not all eternity mine?"
Plato's accounts in his different dialogues are
certainly not easy to reconcile with each other even
in important points. Thus (a) we may doubt how
far, according to Plato, any human soul can ever
exist without a body of some sort : perhaps the
completely free existence is only an ideal, never quite
attained, although approximated to by the philo
sopher. In the myth in the Phcedrus (246 D) even
the gods have a body. So in the Timceus the
created gods are compounded of body and soul. In
the Laws however (x. 899 A) the incorporeal exist
ence of the soul (he is speaking especially of the
soul of the gods) is put forward as an alternative.
Again (b) in the Timceus (41 D, ff.) it is said that
the soul is necessarily implanted in bodily forms :
whereas in the Phczdrus (248) the descent into a
body is spoken of as resulting from forgetfulness
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 119
and vice, i.e., as being a punishment for sin. This
difficulty may be put aside : it is only one form of
the contradiction between the conception of Neces
sity and Freedom which appears in all human
thought, in all philosophies and in all theologies.
Man falls by free-will, and yet the fall is regarded
as necessary. (c) Zeller (Plato, Engl. Transl., p.
410, n. 55) has raised a difficulty about the migration
of a human soul into lower animals. "How can
man," he asks, "to whose nature the capability of
forming concepts, according to Phczdrus, 249 B,
essentially belongs, become a beast ? " To this it
might quite well be answered, within the limits of
the Transmigration-doctrine, that Plato means that
because man knows by universals, his soul must
once, i.e., when "in heaven," have seen them: a
soul which to begin with was a beast's, and so only
a beast's, could not rise to be a man's. A soul may
sink from among the gods to man, and then to beast,
and rise again to be with the gods, only because at
first it was with the gods. The rest of Zeller's ob
jections may be met in a similar way. Thus, when
he asks how can the life of the beast serve to purify
the soul, the answer would be found in the concep
tion of expiation by suffering. When the soul came
to choose again, it would have been taught the evil
of the merely animal life. And even among beasts,
as the Buddhists recognise, there are degrees of
moral quality. Again Zeller asks : "Are the souls
of the beasts (ace. to Tim., 90 E., ff.) all descended
from former human souls and so all intelligent and im-
I2O ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
mortal according to their original being, or (Ph<zdr.,
249 B) only some of them?" Plato might answer
that all souls, which are now souls of beasts, may
quite well once have been human. The passage in
the Phadrus only implies that, if there were any
soul of a beast that had never been human, it could
never become human. Thus, though it may repre
sent a different view from that of the Timaus, it is
not necessarily inconsistent with it. But the want
of formal consistency in the mythology may be taken
as indicating, what Plato himself suggests at the
beginning of the Timceus (29 C), that it is not to
be taken too literally. We have here only "prob
ability," not truth.
The key to the interpretation of Plato's myths
seems to be given us in the Republic (382 C, D),
where, after condemning altogether "the lie in the
soul," i.e., ignorance, he allows that "the lie in
words" may be used in two cases : (i) as a medicine
((j)dpfjiaKov) against enemies and to deceive men for
their own good, as we do with sick persons and
madmen ; (2) as an approximation to the truth :
where it is impossible to express the truth exactly,
we may give something which, though false, re
sembles the truth as far as possible. Teichmtiller1
holds that the myths about the soul belong to the
first class, like the myth of the earth-born men
(Rep., 414 C ff.) which justifies the caste-system.
The story of the earth-born men is obviously a
dogma to be imposed authoritatively by the legis-
1 Studien zur Geschichte der Begriffc, p, 163.
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 121
lator on the ignorant classes ; but the accounts of
the origin and destiny of the soul seem to me to be
'permissible lies' of the second kind, as is suggested
by the passage just referred to in the Timceus and
in the end of the Phcedo itself (114 D) : " A man
of sense ought not to say, nor will I be too confident,
that the description which I have given of the soul
and her mansions is exactly true. But I do say that,
inasmuch as the soul is shown to be immortal, he
may venture to think, not improperly or unworthily,
that something of the kind is true. The venture is
a glorious one, and he ought to comfort himself
with words like these, which is the reason why I
lengthen out the tale." There is certainly a passage
in the Laws (959 A), to which Teichmtiller refers,
that seems to favour his view. With regard to the
burial of the dead it is there written : " Now we
must believe the legislator when he tells us that the
soul is in all respects superior to the body, and that
even in life that which makes each one of us to be
what we are is only the soul ; and that the body
follows us about in the likeness of each of us, and,
therefore, when we are dead, the bodies of the dead
are rightly said to be our shades or images ; for that
the true and immortal being of each one of us, which
is called the soul, goes on her way to other Gods,
that before them she may give an account — an in
spiring hope to the good, but very terrible to the
bad, as the laws of our fathers tell us, which also
say that not much can be done in the way of helping
a man after he is dead. But the living — he should
122 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
be helped by all his kindred, that while in life he
may be the holiest and justest of men, and after
death may have no great sins to be punished in the
world below." This passage does seem to rest the
doctrine about the soul merely on the authority of
the legislator. But while Plato holds that for the
mass of mankind, who have only "opinion" or "belief"
on all matters, such authority is sufficient, surely he
does not mean us to think that the Socrates of the
Phczdo, who is dying as a condemned heretic, holds
the doctrine of immortality only as something im
posed by old tradition. If so, all the lengthy argu
ments would be very much out of place. Though,
in the Laws, Plato puts the views about the future
life as " a medicinal myth " for the multitude, they
may still be "a myth of approximation" for the philo
sopher : a traditional belief may be the stammering
expression of a true and vital idea. And in any
case, the Laws cannot be taken as certain evidence
of what Plato held when he wrote the Phczdo.
Let me assume, then, that what is said about the
life before and after the present life is intended as an
approximation to the truth. The difficulty remains
to decide where myth ends and where logic begins.
Critics have been too apt to suppose that Plato
himself could always have drawn the line exactly.
Our language and our thinking are conditioned
by our ordinary experiences ; and when we have to
speak of that which belongs to the insensible, we
find ourselves compelled, however much we try to
avoid it, to use phraseology belonging properly only
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 123
to the sensible. We have to talk of the mind, which
we know not to be in space, as if it were in space
and had parts and divisions ; and we have to apply
to what our logic compels us to recognise as inde
pendent of time conceptions and images which have
strictly no meaning except as applied to what Plato
calls "the moving image of Eternity." In illustra
tion one need only refer again to such phrases as
" a priori" "//-^supposed," to see how we ourselves
are obliged to use "the verbal lie." Philosophy
cannot dispense with metaphor. But we should try
to use our metaphors with as full a consciousness
as possible. It is metaphors which escape notice
that are dangerous. Besides being subject to this
common necessity of human thought, Plato is essen
tially a poet ; and thus to him the language of myth
is natural. His notions clothe themselves readily in
sensuous imagery. And we cannot make a sharp
distinction between Plato the poet and Plato the
philosopher (as Teichmliller tries to do, Studien,
p. 158). As already said, we cannot completely
separate the form and the content of his thinking.
We can no longer hold, as used often to be held,
that there is a fundamental antithesis between Plato
and Aristotle. The agreement between them is far
more fundamental than the difference. The severe
and often captious criticisms of Aristotle must not
blind us to the fact that almost every Aristotelian
doctrine is to be found implicitly in Plato. As Sir
A. Grant admirably said, " Aristotle codified Plato."
In that phrase there is an expression at once of the
124 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
essential agreement in thought and of the obtrusive
difference in manner. There is of course a Platonic
system of philosophy, in the sense in which every
great philosopher, every thinker who is more than a
mere brilliant penseur, has a system ; but Plato's
manner of working, not merely his manner of writing,
is artistic rather than scientific. The difference be
tween Plato and Aristotle is not that Plato is an
idealist and Aristotle a realist — Aristotle is as much
an idealist as Plato— but that Plato is a religious
poet and Aristotle a scientifically trained physician.
Let us recognise, then, as fully as possible, that
the philosophic truth of Plato is to be found in
Aristotle. But it does not therefore follow that
Plato himself would have accepted Aristotle's doc
trines as his own. The student of Kant feels that
Kant himself did not fully recognise the philosophic
significance of many of his own positions. He re
tained much of the phraseology, and along with it
not a little of the way of thinking, of the Leibnitio-
Wolffian School, and would not have admitted the
interpretation given to his doctrines by Fichte and
Hegel. So too in Plato there is retained much
Pythagorean phraseology belonging to a stage of
thought beyond which he had really advanced, and
he would certainly not have recognised the Aristo
telian developments as his own. I am quite aware
that this is a way of treating the history of philo
sophy which does not commend itself to a great
many, especially among English, students of philo
sophy ; but it seems to me the only way in which the
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 125
history of philosophy — nay, in which any history
becomes intelligible at all. Rousseau might not have
recognised his own work in the French revolution ;
and yet none the less it was, in certain of its aspects,
only an attempt to translate his ideas into facts.
Luther might have been horrified at the modern
theology and philosophy of Germany ; and yet they
are the direct product of his revolt from ecclesiastical
authority. No man, not even the greatest and
wisest, can fully understand the significance of what
he is doing.
Thus, while admitting and insisting that Aristo-
telianism is "the truth," or, in other words, gives the
philosophical interpretation of Platonism, we must not
suppose that Plato himself would have admitted it.
We must distinguish between the Platonism of Aris
totle and Platonism as it existed for the mind of Plato
himself. Hence, however much we feel, with Hegel,
that the mythical element, the picture-thinking, is ,
not of the essence of Platonism, we must not go on
to say, with Teichmliller, that Plato himself did not
hold any of it at all. To say this is to imply that
Plato had an exoteric and an esoteric philosophy,1
and that when he argued for the immortality of the
soul he was deliberately deceiving his readers by "a
noble lie," such as he allows his rulers to use towards
the lower classes in the state. But surely such a
" deception" is quite foreign to Plato's spirit. No
philosopher does his thinking more openly before
1 This Prof. Vera expressly says. See his Platone e rimmortalita
deir ant'ma, pp. 33 seq.
126 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
the public — that public, at least, to which he appeals.
Because, as we have shown, the truth of the doctrine
of Recollection is to be found in that theory of know
ledge which presupposes an identity of Thought
and Being, it does not follow that Plato himself did
not in his own mind figure the soul as having
existed previously to birth and as recovering again
in this life some part of the knowledge it had pos
sessed before. However conscious Plato was that
such language, in terms of time, was inadequate to
express the exact truth, the frequent use of such
language must be taken as showing a habit of think
ing and not merely an artificial mode of expression.
II.
Let us now consider separately the arguments for
immortality in the Ph&do. It has been much de
bated how many they are.1 They may be con-
1 It may be convenient to state briefly the distribution of the
arguments according to Sir W. Geddes and Mr. Archer-Hind re
spectively, their editions being those most likely to be in the
hands of the English reader.
Geddes. Archer-Hind.
I. tti/TctTroSoa-ts (70 C — 72 D). ~)
II. aW//,v?7oris (72 E — 76 D). }
III. The soul is simple, not composite, in nature II.
(78 B— 80 E).
IV. Objection of Simmias, that the soul is a Har
mony, refuted (85, 86, 91-95).
Objection of Cebes, that the soul may outlast the
body but not be immortal, refuted (86-88).
V. The soul partakes in the idea of life, and therefore III.
cannot perish (100 B — 107 B).
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 127
veniently treated as three in number, though all
really form steps in one great argument.
i. There is an old tradition that souls come back
from Hades and live again (cf. Meno, 81). This
Plato explains and vindicates by the doctrine that
opposites come from opposites (OVK a\\o6ev j CK TWV
evavriwv TO. evavria). Mr. Archer-Hind (p. 73) says
that Plato appeals to the uniformity of nature and
has seized on the principle of the conservation of
energy, and " has applied to spirit the axiom which
previous philosophers laid down for matter." Is not
this misleading language ? Plato knows nothing
of " laws of nature" in the modern scientific sense :
it is not a formula with which he works. He does
not get the conservation of energy as a " natural
law" and read it into " the spiritual world." The
conservation of energy, if we can use the phrase
at all to express a conception of Plato's, is to him
a necessity of thought, a logical law, not primarily
a law of nature. Omnia mutantur, nil interit and
Ex nihilo nihil fit were axioms arrived at from the
logical impossibility of thinking either an absolute
beginning or an absolute ending, not established
like what we call laws of nature by a combination
of hypothesis and experiment. And these axioms
appear in Plato in the form : "If generation were
in a straight line only, and there were no compen
sation (d w ael avravohJoitj, etc.) or circle in nature,
no turn or return of elements into one another,
then all things at last would have the same form
and pass into the same state, and there would be
128 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
no more generation of them" (72 A, B). We can
easily see that this principle by itself does not prove
the immortality of the soul in the sense in which the
term is generally understood. It would be accepted
by the Democritean atomist and would be more than
satisfied by Aristotle's conception of nature attaining
immortality in the species, though not in the indi
vidual (De Anima, ii. 4). Yet, of course, if from
other sources we can get any arguments for the
indestructibility of the individual soul, this principle
of the movement from life to death and death to life
will fit in with them. This argument may perhaps
be compared with Fechner's idea — not that the idea
is peculiar to Fechner — that as the life (of the em
bryo) before birth is to the life in the body as it
now is, so is this present life to that after death.1
Yet there is a most noteworthy and characteristic
difference. Plato thinks of birth as an " eclipsing
1 G. T. Fechner, On the life after death (Engl. Transl. by
Wernekke), ch. i. Cf. the passage in the Autobiography of Lord
Herbert of Cherbury : " And, certainly, since in my mother's
womb this plastica, or formatrix, which formed my eyes, ears, and
other senses, did not intend them for that dark and noisome place,
but, as being conscious of a better life, made them as fitting or
gans to apprehend and perceive those things which should occur
in this world ; so I believe, since my coming into this world my
soul hath formed or produced certain faculties which are almost
as useless for this life as the above-named senses were for the
mother's womb ; and these faculties are hope, faith, love, and joy,
since they never rest or fix upon any transitory or perishing object
in this world, as extending themselves to something further than
can be here given, and indeed acquiesce only in the perfect, eternal
and infinite." (Edition in "Camelot Series," p. 21.)
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 129
curse " : he thinks of the soul as passing through cycles
of existence. Fechner is thinking of a continuous
development. The idea of a cycle conditions all the
thinking of Plato, and of Aristotle too, both in regard
to the individual and in regard to society. We may
indeed say that the conception of continuous progress
is absent alike from their Ethics and their Politics.
This argument from the alternation of opposites is,
however, not allowed to stand alone. It is at once
supplemented by the doctrine of Recollection. Mr.
Archer-Hind insists that these must be considered
as making up together only one argument, avraTroSoa-is
proving the existence of the soul, avd/mvrjcris its pos
session of intelligence (consciousness) apart from the
present bodily life. We may note that Plato himself
(73 A, coo-re K al TavTri aQdvarov rj \l/v^ TI eoiKev etVcu)
seems to treat them as distinct arguments. But the
question is not of much importance. In truth all
the arguments lead up finally to the argument from
the theory of ideas, and this reference to the doctrine
of Recollection already brings in that theory. We
have previously considered this doctrine of Recollec
tion and seen that it necessarily implies only the
presupposition in knowledge of an eternal element,
i.e., an element not dependent on temporal con
ditions : it implies the eternal character of thought,
not the continued duration of the individual human
person, although Plato himself, at least at some part
of his life, may quite well have interpreted it in
connection with an actual belief in continued personal,
or at least individual, existence.
D. H. K
130 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
2. The next argument is, that the soul being
simple and not composite, is indissoluble : it cannot
perish by being decomposed. It may be supposed
that this is the same argument which has been
largely used since Plato's time and which is criticised
by Kant l — viz., that the soul is permanent because
it is a simple substance. But the conception of the
soul as " substance" is an addition to Plato's view
which we do not find in Plato himself.2 If we are to
compare this position of Plato's with any modern
position, we might rather compare it with a view
such as results from Kant's criticism, viz., that the
soul is the unity of self-consciousness. But in truth
the conception of self-conscious subject is equally
absent from Plato's psychology with the conception
of thinking substance. Rather we should regard
Plato as having taken the Pythagorean mathematical
conception of Unity to explain the soul, using the
Pythagorean conception as suggestion and starting-
point for his theory of ideas. The soul which is
invisible, he argues, is akin to (eruyyevj?) the un
changing and incomposite, the invisible world of
ideas, not the changing and manifold world of sense.
1 Crit. of Pure Reason, " Transcend. Dial," book ii., chap, i.,
" Refutation of the Argument of Mendelssohn for the Substan
tiality or Permanence of the Soul."
2 It might indeed seem to receive countenance from the words
in 92 D, wcrTrep O.VTTJS tcrnv fj ova-La e^ovcra, ri/v CTrwvv/xtav ryv TOV o
eo-Ttv, which appear to make absolute existence the substance of
the soul. But if the words mean this, they stand in contradiction
to all that is said elsewhere in Plato. And Schanz is probably
justified in altering avr^s, of the MSS., into
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 131
Thus the soul is likely to be at least more permanent
than the body and nearly or altogether indissoluble.
There may be good ground for holding that the
view of the soul as a substance conjoined with the
body is very much due to the language of Plato's
Phczdo, as ordinarily understood and popularised
through the medium of Stoicism, which tended more
and more to assimilate or adopt Platonic phraseology.
It is a view which gained currency especially among
materialistic Christians like Tertullian, who regarded
soul and body as two substances or things, both
material, though the soul might be of finer matter,
which could be joined together and separated, ex
ternally and as it were mechanically1 — a view which
has naturally led to the question, Where is the soul ?
But Plato must not be made responsible for the crude
dogmatism of unphilosophical writers who have been
influenced directly or indirectly by his words. As
we have seen, the soul's permanence of existence is
not by him made absolute (as in the metaphysical-
substance theory which Kant attacked) but is depen
dent on its affinity to the ideas, to the divine. This
being so, as already suggested, it would be less
erroneous to say that he thinks of the soul's existence
as a necessary condition of knowledge, though he
rather puts it in the reverse way. Indeed he some
times speaks as if the philosopher, the man who
1 Aristotle, De An. i., 3 fin., objects to the Pythagorean " tales "
of transmigration, that they make any soul fit any body. But the
" tales " as Plato gives them always insist at least on some con
nection in character between the soul and body.
132 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
knows, who reflects and lives in the true world of
ideas, had a better chance of life apart from the body
than the ordinary man whose soul is sunk amid the
sensible and changing {Phcedo, 80 E-8i E). The
true life of knowledge is not dependent upon material
things, and the soul which lives this true life can
therefore exist independently of the body,
Teichmiiller (in his book Ueber die Unsterblichkeit
der Seele) applies to every theory about the soul
what in appearance is a very simple question : "Is
the soul according to this view a substance or is
it not ? If it is not a substance, it is illogical to hold
any doctrine of immortality. The Materialist makes
soul a mere function of body ; the Idealist regards it
only as the subject of knowledge, and holds the eter
nity of thought but cannot hold the immortality of
the soul." Let us ask, what is meant by calling the
soul a substance. Substance in its simplest meaning
is nothing more than that which has qualities, the
permanent siibject of which we can predicate attributes.
But probably most persons who use the word sub
stance about the soul, only mean by it reality.
Primitive man did not regard soul as substance.
Rather the body was thought of as the real self or
person, the soul, spirit or ghost, being only a sort of
shadow or emanation given off by him. Because
the dead and absent appeared in dreams, the appear
ance was supposed to be some emanation from the
person. The ghost had a less real existence than
the man while living ; and there were ghosts or souls
of other animals and even of things. We have good
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 133
examples of this primitive "Animism" in the Ho
meric poems. The slain warriors themselves are a
prey to dogs and birds, while their spirits are sent to
Hades.1 With Plato this is completely changed.
Socrates is asked how they shall bury him. " You
cannot bury me. Only my body will remain. I
shall go away " (Pk&do, 115). The spirits whom
Odysseus visits have a very feeble and shadowy
existence, not, as Plato puts it, a more real and true
existence than men living on earth, so that the life
of the wise man becomes " a practising of death"
{Pkczdo, 64 A). This Animism of course still sur
vives in the co-existence of a belief that the ghosts
of the dead flit about near graves and their old
haunts (cf. Ph&do, 81 C, D ; Laws, 865 D), along
with the idea that their souls are in another world.
The differentiation of the words " soul " and " ghost"
(\l/v%toi> o-Kioetdrj (fiavrda-jmaTa in Phczdo, 8 1 D) helps to
keep two distinct views alongside of one another.
The distinction in Christian psychology between
"spirit" (TTveCjuLa) and "soul" (^v#0 was, in the
hands of the more philosophical writers, parallel
to the Greek distinction between " reason " (you?)
'//. i- 3,4:
TroAAa? 8* tyOifjiOvs \f/v)(as "Ai'Si Trpoiaif/ev
rjpwwv, a v T o u s 8e cAwpia TCV^C K
otcoi/ouri' T€ Tracrt.
xvi. 855, xxii. 362 :
u>5 apa jjnv ei7rdj/Ta reXos Oa.va.roio Ka
iftv\r) 8* CK p
ov TTOTfAOv yodaxra, XITTOVO-' dSpor^ra KCU rj
T o v K
134 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
and "soul"; the adoption of " spirit " rather than
"reason" for the highest element in the soul indi
cating the abandonment of Greek intellectualism and
the preference for the ethical and emotional over the
intellectual. But the Christian psychology allowed
the old Animism to spring up again, and our word
"spirit" hovers between the meanings of the Ger
man " Geist" and the English "ghost."
Plato, then, does think of the soul as being that
which is most real and permanent in a man, but he
does not express this by making the soul a "sub
stance." The category of substance, being applicable
properly only to what we perceive in time and space,
is an inadequate conception for soul, as Kant showed
in fact, though he writes as if it were in a way a mis
fortune that we could not prove the soul to be a
substance in relation to its experiences in the same
sense in which in a physical body we distinguish the
substance from the properties.1 Self-conscious sub
ject is a higher and better conception for soul ; and
if the soul is called a substance, it can only be this
that is meant. Lotze applies the term "substance"
to the soul, but explains himself as only meaning by
substance " everything which possesses the power of
1 Kant argued that identity of self-consciousness need not imply
identity of substance. Thus the same movement is transmitted
through a series of elastic balls ; the substances change, the move
ment is the same. And so, conceivably, the self-same conscious
ness might be transmitted through a series of substances.
(Note on " Third Paralogism of Transcendental Psychology" in
first edition.)
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 135
producing and experiencing effects, in so far as it
possesses that power." Again he says : "The fact
of the unity of consciousness is eo ipso at once the
fact of the existence of a substance " \Metaphysicl pp.
426, 427, Engl. Transl.). Thus Lotze does not
maintain that the soul is a substance, in the sense in
which Kant denies that we can know it to be a sub
stance, and according to which alone Teichmiiller
seems to think the soul's immortality can be logically
held, but only in a sense with which there is nothing
in Plato to conflict. Plato, as we have already said,
has not this conception of self-consciousness to work
with ; but he considers the essential element in the
soul to be its knowing rather than its merely existing.
And so (if we are to yield to the inevitable tempta
tion of interpreting him in terms of modern contro
versies), if he is not yet Kantian, he is at least free
from the metaphysical assumption against whose
validity Kant argued.
The argument which Socrates directs against the
objection of Simmias that the soul is the Harmony
of the body, and as such cannot outlast the destruc
tion of the body, has been sometimes treated as a
separate argument for the immortality of the soul
(e.g., by Ueberweg and Sir W. Geddes).1 This
Mr. Archer- Hind denies ; rightly, if we consider
only the formal nature of the argument. But it con
tains the assertion of the priority and independence
1 Cf. Teichmiiller (Studien zur Geschichte der Begriffe, p. 118),
who puts the argument in the form : The ideal principle is prior
to the becoming and not a product of it.
1 36 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
of the soul, and thus does really advance the general
argument of the dialogue. ( i ) The doctrine of har
mony is shown to be inconsistent with the already
accepted doctrine of Recollection (91 €-92 D). A
harmony can only come into existence after that which
produced it. (2) A harmony is dependent upon the
materials that produce it, and is more or less of a
harmony according to their condition ; whereas the
soul as such (i.e., in its ultimate essence, as we might
say the mere " I" which is the condition of any know
ledge) does not admit of degrees. The virtuous
soul is not more a soul than the vicious, though it
may be called more of a harmony (92 £-94 B). (3)
The soul rules the body, whereas a harmony, as be
fore said, is dependent on its materials (94 6-95 A).
The harmony-theory is also criticised by Aristotle
(in the De Anima, i. 4), who, like Plato, speaks of it
as widely held. It is impossible for us to find out
with whom the theory originated. It may, to begin
with, have been nothing more than a poetical image
popularly accepted. Plato's main argument against
it is the first one — that it is inconsistent with the
theory which alone explains knowledge. On this
position the other two depend.
J. S. Mill (Essays on Religion, p. 197) considers
this argument of Simmias to be that which a modern
objector would naturally make to Plato's argument,
viz., " that thought and consciousness, though men
tally distinguishable from the body, may not be a sub
stance separable from it, but a result of it, standing
in a relation to it like that of a tune to the musical
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 137
instrument on which it is played."1 We may com
pare Voltaire's question whether the song of the
nightingale can live when the bird has been devoured
by an eagle. It should be noticed that ap^ovla means
properly a succession of notes, and so is equivalent to
our word " tune " or ''air," rather than to " harmony."
This being so, does not the illustration of the lyre
tell the other way ? A tune certainly cannot exist
apart from the notes of which it is composed. They
are, in Aristotelian phrase, the matter of which it is
the form. But the same tune, i.e., the same combi
nation of notes may be played on many instruments,
and so the analogy would not prove the mortality of
the soul, unless the soul be, as in Aristotle's view, the
form or realisation of the body. If the body be analo
gous to the notes of the tune, the soul perishes with
the body ; if the body be analogous to the musical
instrument, it need not. It may seem strange that
Plato should not have noticed this way of turning
aside the objection. Perhaps the whole harmony-
theory seemed to him to deny too much the essential
unity of the soul.
3. We can now pass to the third great argument,
to which all the others lead up, that which makes
the question of the soul's immortality expressly and
directly depend on the doctrine of Ideas. It is im
possible here to go through the complicated and
1 Mr. J. M. Rigg in Mind^ vol. xi., p. 89, says : " The modern
analogue of the harmonic theory is the attempt made by biologists
to identify the soul with a special form of that correspondence be
tween organism and environment in which life is held to consist."
138 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
difficult details of the argument. The difficulties
are partly matters of interpretation of language and
must be left to the philologer ; partly they depend on
the whole problem raised by the different forms in
which the theory of ideas appears in Plato. We are
at a loss to know how far we may take as a guide
the presentation of the theory in other dialogues.1
The main argument in its briefest form is this. The
soul partaking in, or manifesting in itself, the idea of
life cannot partake in the opposite idea, that of death,
just as fire which partakes in the idea of heat cannot
admit the idea of cold, and as the abstract number
three, which is odd, cannot admit the idea of even.
Cold fire, even three, dead soul would imply cold
heat, even odd, dead life, and so involve a contradic
tion in terms.
What, according to Plato, is the relation of the
soul to the ideas ? Teichmtiller argues that, because
the soul is not an idea, and because in Plato's system
only the ideas really exist, therefore the soul does not
exist. That the particular soul does not exist in the
same way as the ideas we may agree. But (i) it
may be doubted whether Plato and his critic are
using " existence " (being) in the same sense. As
Lotze has very well pointed out (Logic, Eng. Tr., p.
440), when Plato speaks of the ideas as ra OI/T<»? oi/ra
he really means that they are alone valid, not that
they are existent things ; but the Greek language
does not admit of a distinction between validity and
1 The questions of interpretation will be found most • carefully
discussed in Mr. Archer-Hind's edition.
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 139
being.1 Plato's ideas are not to be thought of as equi
valent to Leibniz's monads, though Leibniz himself
strangely thought so (Epist. ad Hanschiiim, 1 707, Ed.
Erdmann, p. 445). Rather they are the equivalent
in Plato to what we call laws of nature. The idea
of the Good is, in Plato's system, "God"; and
Leibniz makes God the monad of monads. But is
not this just the final difficulty of Leibniz's system ?
If we are to explain a universe of monads, God
must be the totality and unity of the relations
between the monads ; but, if so, Leibniz would be
nearer Spinoza than he thought. (2) The soul has
not indeed the same absolute significance or value
that the ideas have, but it has a significance or value
which the composite man or animal has not. It is,
as has already been argued, " nearer to " or " more
akin to " the ideas, because it is what knows, and so
is ultimately of the same nature with what is known,
i.e.y the ideas. The identity of the knowing and the
known is thus the logical truth at the bottom of the
ideal theory, as we have already seen in the special
case of the doctrine of Recollection.
The soul not being an idea, may we say that there
is an idea of the soul ? We talk of souls as we talk
of other classes or kinds of existences ; so that, ac
cording to the view of the ideal theory which we have
in the Republic, there ought to be an idea of the
1 When Aristotle says : o Trao-t SOKCL TOVT' eu/at <f>dp.€v (Eth. Nic.,
x. 2, § 4) he means that universal opinion has worth or validity •,
that there is in it (an element of) rationality, as in the parallel pas
sage in Eth. NIC., vii. 13, § 6, Trarra <£vW l^ct TL Odov.
ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
soul. Plato certainly never uses the phrase. But
Mr. Archer- Hind thinks it necessary in the argument
in the Pluzdo to assume this " metaphysical mon
strosity," as he calls it. " We have," he says, "the
following terms ; (i) the idea of life, (2) the idea of
soul, which carries the idea of life to particular souls,
(3) the particular soul, which vivifies the body, (4)
the body in which is displayed this vivifying power."
In the argument soul is treated of as parallel to the
triad (the abstract three), and Plato does use the
phrase ^TOH/ rpiwv idea (104 D) ; so that there would
seem no escape from this conclusion. But surely, if
we are to argue from the view of the theory of ideas
in the Republic, Plato does not place the abstract
conceptions of mathematics on the same level with
the ideas, but in an intermediate region between the
particular things of sense and the ideal world. The
Pythagorean doctrine of numbers served Plato as
suggestion and starting-point for his theory of ideas ;
and the relation of abstract numbers to concrete
numbered things serves as an illustration of the rela
tion of ideas to things (cf. Arist., Met., i. 6). Might
I suggest, therefore, that "the idea of three" is
here not to be taken too literally ? In any case the
number " three " is not an idea in the same sense or
of the same dignity as the quality " odd " : and simi
larly soul belongs to a region intermediate between
the idea (of life — the living) and the concrete living
animal. We might then compare the position as
signed to the world-soul in the Timceus as " the
mediatising principle between the Idea and the
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 141
Phenomenon, the first form of the existence of the
idea in multiplicity" (Zeller). Nothing is said about
the world-soul in the Phoedo, but we are justified in
expecting that Plato, even if the Timceus represents
a different stage of his thinking, should treat it analo
gously to the human soul.
The chief difficulty which meets us in Plato's
theory of ideas is the relation of the ideas to one
another. We feel that they ought to be all organi
cally connected with one another and with the idea of
the Good. But the science of dialectic which should
do this exists for him only as a possible science, as
an ideal. We are puzzled by his recognising ideas
of qualities, of concrete things in nature, of works of
art, all separately, just as occasion requires ; and we
do not know exactly how the idea of " the just," for
instance, stands related to the idea of " man " or the
idea of " table (I am referring only to the forms in
which the theory appears within the limits of the
Republic]. Some of these, we feel, are more properly
"ideas" than others. This difficulty is partly due,
doubtless, to the tentative and ''sceptical" character
of -Plato's philosophy ; partly perhaps to the influ
ence of the undogmatic and vague character of popu
lar Greek polytheism. The relation of the various
gods to one another and to the supreme god is
left undetermined. Plato and Aristotle themselves
talk indifferently of TO Oeiov, 6 0eo?, ol Oeoi Plato is
anxious to prove that God is good, and the author
of good only (Rep., ii.) : it seems to be a matter of
indifference to him whether God is one or many.
142 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
The Timaus does indeed suggest a hierarchy of
divine beings ; but then the Timceus stands by itself
in its Pythagorean dogmatism. The result of the
whole discussion in the Phcedo then amounts to this :
that the particular concrete man (composed of body
and soul) passes, as we saw, from life to death and
death to life (cf. 70 C, 103 A-C) ; the soul which
makes him live is always living. It cannot admit
death, and is therefore indestructible. This result
may indeed appear to be a purely verbal statement :
" Anima est animans " ; but its significance comes
from the connection established between the soul
and the ideas.
Neither in the Phcedrus nor in the Republic do the
argitments used for immortality turn on the theory
of ideas. The argument in the Phczdrus, which
is put forward as the prominent argument by Cicero
(in his Tusc. Disp., i. 23. — also translated by him
in De Rep., vi. 25), may however be connected with
the concluding argument of the Pk&do. " The soul
is immortal because it is self-moving" {Phczdr., 245
C) * may be considered as only one form of stating
the argument from the idea of life. If we look for a
modern parallel, we may perhaps find it in the argu
ment from freedom (criticised by Lotze, Met., Engl.
Transl., p. 420) — an argument which of itself will not
prove a personal or even an individual immortality.
Only " Thought" is free, and even Thought in its
use by us is conditioned by material phenomena.
1 Cf. Laws, X. 896 A, XII. 966 E.
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 143
The argument in Republic x.1 is that nothing can
be destroyed except by its own proper evil. The
body is destroyed by its proper evil, disease. The
evil of the soul is wickedness ; but men do not die
simply by being wicked, else wickedness would be a
less terrible thing than it is, and there would be no
need of the executioner. Thus the soul, not being
destroyed by its own evil, cannot be destroyed at all.
The argument is so far the converse of the argument
in the Phcedo. There it is argued that the soul,
because not admitting death, is indestructible : here
that the soul, because not in fact destroyed, does not
admit of death. By itself it seems a very feeble
argument. It would only prove that in this life the
soul is not destroyed ; and though it might suggest
a future life, it would not prove immortality, because
the destruction of the soul by wickedness might go
on after death. Indeed from the position in Rep. i.,
that evil is a principle of weakness and dissolution, it
might be argued that evil must in course of time
destroy the soul. It has been ingeniously suggested
to me by a friend that it might be retorted to Plato
that if sin does not destroy the soul, sin cannot be the
evil of the soul but must be proper and natural to it.
On the other hand, we find a German writer, Julius
Miiller (quoted by Sir W. Geddes, p. xxvi.), using a
parallel argument to Plato's : " So indestructible is
1 Teichmiiller (pp. 121, 127) considers Rep. 611 C and 612 an
argument : " The ideal principle is divine " ; also Rep., 61 1 A-C :
" The becoming remains always identical in quantity." Surely
these are not " Beweise " ?
144 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
the Personal Individual, that it is able to place itself
through that which is wicked in the most enduring
contradiction with itself, without at the same time
compromising its existence. That the human crea
ture can surrender itself to that which is wicked with
full determination, without annihilating itself, is in
fact one of the most powerful and tremendous wit
nesses for the Indestructibility of Personal Exist
ence." But here we see that a conception of the
self-conscious Person is assumed before the argu
ment from wickedness is applied ; and so it might be
said for Plato that, as he assumes the necessary con
nection between the soul and the eternal ideas, the
fact that its own evil does not destroy the soul is a
confirmation of its immortality. Yet it is striking,
and characteristic of his way of working, that the
arguments in the Phcedrus, Phcedo and Republic,
which we may fairly suppose all to belong to the
same general stage of his philosophy, are stated in
complete independence of one another.
The special interest of the Republic in connexion
with our question is that here Plato comes most dis
tinctly face to face with the ethical significance of
the conception of immortality ; and it is, therefore,
perhaps fitting that the argument should be rather
ethical than metaphysical. Plato does not use at all
the ethical argument as we have it in Kant, an argu
ment which is, so far, the converse of Plato's argument
from Recollection. Plato's argument might become :
We have ideals by which we judge the imperfections
of our present life ; therefore we must have known
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 145
them in a previous state. Kant's argument may be
put in the form : We have ideals which we cannot
realise in this present life ; therefore we must exist
in a future state. And it is to be observed that
Plato's argument turns on the character of knowledge
even in moral matters, Kant's on the nature of con
duct.
In the early part of the Republic Plato is com
pelled to protest against the demoralising effect of
popular and of Orphic ideas about a future life, and
appears therefore to reject altogether the ordinary
beliefs about rewards and punishments in- another
world. But having shown that justice in itself, irre
spective of consequences in this world or the next,
is better than injustice, he now feels able to restore
the element of truth, which he recognises in these
old traditions, in a way which, so far from being
demoralising, shall be morally educative. It would
be misunderstanding him, however, to suppose that,
either here or in the P/uzdo, he considers the moral
value of the doctrine an argument for its truth.
Plato is perfectly true to the Greek faith in Reason :
having established the truth of the doctrine, as he
thinks, independently, on intellectual grounds, he is
ready to accept its moral value. Thus the visions of
a future life at the end of the Republic and of the
Pkado lead to the practical lesson of the immense
importance of knowledge and conduct in this. Life
is thus regarded, not as a time of probation to deter
mine once for all the eternal destiny of man, but as
a time of education to prepare him for the life or
D. H. L
146 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
lives to come — a view which has nowhere been so
forcibly expressed in modern times as in some of
Browning's poems (e.g. "Apparent Failure," " Eve
lyn Hope," " Christina ": not so distinctly in the
argumentative " La Saisiaz," where the idea of pro
bation is made use of, though not in the ordinary
dogmatic way).
III.
In what sense does Plato hold immortality ?
What part of the soul is immortal ? To these ques
tions it is not easy to find a consistent or uniform
answer in Plato's dialogues. In the Phadrus the
soul is imaged as a charioteer driving two horses.
This image we may fairly interpret in accordance
with the psychology of the Republic as representing
the three elements of Reason, Spirit (TO OvpoeiSes)
and Desire. All these elements, then, are in the
Phcedrus spoken of as belonging to the immortal
soul and as existing apart from the body.
In the Timceus the different parts of the soul are
localised in different parts of the body. In the
Republic (ix. 588) we have the soul described as a
complex creature — man, lion, hydra, all enclosed in
the form of a man. [Can this be taken as a recog
nition that the Reason, the highest element, is the true
self? — as Aristotle says : So^eiev a*/ TO voovv e/cao-To?
eTvai (Eth. NIC., ix. 4, § 4) — or does it only mean that
every individual, though apparently one, is really
complex?] In Rep., 6n C, D, the true and im
mortal soul is said to be ordinarily crusted over and
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 147
concealed by impurities. And so in the Ph&do the
soul of the philosopher is spoken of as free from
passion and desire. Again, Plato seems to waver
between the view of the Phtsdrus and Republic, that
the soul of the good man is that in which the lower
elements are under control, and the more ascetic
view of the Pktzdo, that the good man is free from
passions and desires altogether. Of course it is
obvious that all turns on what is meant by desire.
Plato often tends to regard desire as an altogether
o o
irrational element, though he sometimes sees that
Reason, in order to act, necessarily implies desire (or
at least the element of Ou/xo'? or impulse). In the
Phczdo the desires are, indeed, distinctly ascribed to
the body, whereas in the Philebus (35 C) they are
ascribed to the soul. These apparent inconsistencies
arise very much from our tending to understand
Plato too literally, when he speaks of parts of the
soul. Indeed it should be noted that he more often
says eiSr) or ^vr\ (" forms " or " kinds," " aspects " as
we might say) than fiepij. We may reconcile all
these passages, more or less, as follows : — The soul
in its essence is Reason (vovs). By admixture with
the body it shows itself in the forms of passion
and desire, which we may therefore ascribe to the
soul or to the body, according as we are thinking of
the soul as embodied or as distinct from the body.
When the soul in a future life is spoken of as being
punished, it must be the soul as having desires.
The soul escapes, i.e., does not need, punishment,
just in so far as it is free from desire (appetite,
148 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
Only the soul of the tyrant which is alto
gether given over to desire is punished for ever.
(This is a characteristically Hellenic touch, and need
not be rejected, as by Mr. Archer-Hind. It is not
more fanciful than any other part of the myths in the
Gorgias and Republic. The tyrant is Plato's ideally
bad man, opposed to the ideally good man, the
philosopher.)
If then it is asked whether Plato thinks bodily
existence necessary for the particular human soul, we
can only answer by distinguishing the meanings of
the words "body" and "soul." If by body be
meant, as is ordinarily meant, our body as it exists
now, then Plato does hold that the soul can exist
apart from the body. If by soul be meant the soul
as we know it with its passions and desires, then
evidently some sort of body must be supposed for it,
else there would be no passions and desires. If we
ask whether Plato believes in a personal immor
tality, we should need to ask ourselves further what
we mean by personality ; and we should note that
it is not a conception which has become at all pro
minent in ancient ethics. We might perhaps expect
that a consistent Platonist would have held that, just
in so far as the soul becomes purified from passion
and desire, it loses its materiality, its element of
otherness (Odrepov), and thus becomes reunited to its
divine source. This is an interpretation which the
mythical element in Plato might suggest. Yet Plato
himself argues (in Rep., x. 61 1 A) that the number of
the souls remains always the same ; and the greatest
iv.] ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. 149
of the Neo-Platonists, Plotinus, holds explicitly that
there exists a real plurality of souls, the highest
being the soul of the world, of which the others are
not mere parts. Was this position retained out of
respect for the authority of the divine Plato, or was
it rather from an intuition that the Universal apart
from individual manifestation is a logical abstraction ?
Personality, however, is something more than
mere individual existence. The person in the
ethical sense, the subject of rights and duties, must
be the member of an organised society. And it
might be argued that it is only in so far as any one
ceases to be a mere individual, that he becomes in
the true sense a person, only in so far as he identi
fies himself with something wider and higher than
self. In his theory of ethics, as expounded in the
Republic, Plato sees this fully. It is not because he
makes his citizens merge their lives in the life of the
community that his ethics is inadequate, but because
his conception of the community is too abstract and
too much limited by the prepossessions of aristocratic
Hellenism. In his visions of another world, so far
from his neglecting the value of the individual, it
might even be contended that he exaggerates the
significance of the mere individual existence so much
in his doctrine of metempsychosis, as to neglect the
greater ethical significance of the person, which, as
just said, depends on membership of a society. He
speaks indeed of the good man in the evil state as
being the citizen of a heavenly city ; but in his
accounts of the life free from the trammels of the
150 ON PLATO'S PHAEDO. [iv.
body, there is no hint of a perfected community.
His ideal in the Phczdo, and even in the Republic, is
only an ideal for the philosophic few that escape
from among the multitude who are " unworthy of
education." May we not say, though it may sound
paradoxical, that Plato has no adequate conception
of personality just because his conception of the soul
is too individualistic ?
And yet individualism is not a fair charge to bring
against Plato's doctrine of the soul. As we have
seen, the soul is not conceived of by him as a self-
subsistent monad or atom. The soul is dependent
for its life and its immortality on the eternal ideas,
ultimately therefore on the Idea of the Good. So
that, as Prof. Jowett has said (Plato, vol. i. 420 J), his
ultimate argument is equivalent to this : " If God
exists, then the soul exists after death." That is,
Plato himself like most of the older Christian theo
logians,2 and unlike many who have supposed them
selves Platonists, did not hold that the soul was
immortal per se, but only because and in so far as it
partakes in the divine nature and has the divine
nature manifested in it. Immortality to him also was
a hope (Si €\7rts jmeydX^ Phczdo, 1 14 C), not a dogma.
1 Edit. 2 : = vol. ii. 186 in edit. 3.
2 I have advisedly not complicated this statement by any refer
ence to the doctrine of the resurrection, which, from the point of
view of philosophy, may be regarded as the assertion of the con
tinued existence of human personality//^ the assertion that such
personality will be connected with an organism of some sort —
analogous to the present body according to popular belief, alto
gether different from it according to St. Paul (i Cor. xv. 35-50).
V.
WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS?1
THE phrase " Economic Laws " has been used by
theoretical students as implying the claim of Politi
cal Economy to be a science like the sciences of
nature. It has been used, or misused, by practical
persons to imply that they possess rules or maxims
to guide them in social and political affairs. People
have debated as to the amount of respect which eco
nomic laws deserve — whether they ought to be rele
gated to Saturn or fulfilled on this earth. It would
have been wiser to ask first, what economic laws
mean, or can mean. Whether they can mean any
thing at all has certainly not been a usual question.
But in the January number of the Economic Review
(for 1892) 2 Professor Cunningham has propounded
the thesis, "that economics is not a science of
* cause ' and effect, but a pure science, like logic or
1 Reprinted, with a few alterations, from the Economic Review^
July, 1892.
2 Art. " A Plea for Pure Theory." In my article, as originally
written, I somewhat over-stated Prof. Cunningham's views. In
the light of his " Reply" in the October number, I have modified
some phrases and omitted others.
152 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
geometry, where this conception of ' cause ' is not
appropriate "; l and in accordance with this view he
wishes to get rid of the phrase " economic laws "
altogether.2
Professor Cunningham speaks of the gratitude we
owe to Ricardo for giving a precise meaning to the
term rent? and says that the economic historian has
his work simplified for him by the progress of pure
theory. But is there any meaning whatever in
Ricardo's definition of rent (let me call it a definition
and not a law, reserving discussion of the relation
between these terms) apart from the question, What
is the cause of rent ? The definition, as (according
to Aristotle) every good scientific definition should
do, states the cause of rent, i.e. explains how eco
nomic rent arises. This is the very service which
economic theory, even though it may seem to be
merely concerned with disputes about the meaning
of words, renders to the ordinary practical discussion
or to the historical investigation of economic ques
tions. Take a familiar illustration of the way in
which an economic theory helps us to get beyond
the confusions of ordinary thought and language.
A shopkeeper in a fashionable and much-frequented
street will say that he charges high prices becaiise he
has to pay a high rent ; and if one does not go be
yond the facts present to his mind when he says
this, he may be said to be speaking correctly, so far
as he means that his high prices and his high rent
go together. Particular cases might even occur
1 Page 33. 2 Page 41. 3 Page 29.
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 153
where he had to raise his prices after his rent had
been raised ; and such cases would certainly confirm
the notion that the high rent caused the high prices,
though, of course, the owner's motive for raising the
rent is his knowledge of what can be paid. Scien
tific theory must, however, go farther back, and ask
why a high rent can be paid — why a shop in a
fashionable thoroughfare brings to its owner a higher
rental than a shop, which it costs an equal sum to
build and keep in repair, in an unfashionable and
little-frequented street. The owner of the pre
mises may explain that he has to charge a higher
rent to make his investment in house property
"pay " : he had to pay so much more for the site,
or he has to pay so much more ground-rent. The
theorist must still ask, Why does the ground-land
lord get more in one place than in another ? and the
answer must contain something like the essential
element in Ricardo's theory of rent, difference in
convenience of situation taking the place of differ
ence in fertility of soil. We thus arrive at the con
ception of economic rent as distinct from interest
on capital, etc. Now, is not such an analysis an
investigation of " causes," quite as much as in any
natural science ? In pathology there may be the
same initial difficulty in distinguishing causes and
effects, as in the case we have been considering.
What appear "causes" to the patient maybe re
garded as only symptoms, i.e. effects, by the scien
tific physician.1
1 One reason which Professor Cunningham gives for denying
1 54 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
Professor Cunningham's thesis appears to me to
make it worth while asking : (i) What is the nature
of scientific "laws" generally? (2) What is the
position of economics among the sciences ? (3) In
what sense can we have " laws " in a historical
science ?
that economics deals with causes seems to me very curious. The
conception of cause as invariable antecedent, the conception
usual in physics (at least, in the opinion of many English logicians,
and in the words of most English scientific men who have got
their logic from that quarter), is, according to Professor Cunning
ham, " not appropriate, because it is inadequate. The economist
must endeavour to grasp at one view ' manifold mutual action '
[Professor Marshall's phrase]. Such mutual and simultaneous
action cannot be satisfactorily treated by looking at it, first from
one side and then from another, as a sort of double causation.
Kant has taught us that we must apply a different category alto
gether, and deal with it as a case of reciprocity " (p. 33). The
inadequacy of the popular theory of causation does not, however,
prove that the conception of cause which was applicable in physics
is inapplicable in economics ; still less does it prove that econo
mics must be treated on the analogy, not of physics, but of the
more abstract sciences of geometry and " pure " logic. It would
be an argument for applying to economics less abstract "cate
gories " (i.e. fundamental conceptions) than are applied in physics,
and certainly not for applying more abstract " categories." A
sounder logic and metaphysics than those of popular language
and popular science might make the physical conception of cause
less inadequate to economics, but should hardly lead us to thrust
the conception out of economics altogether. Nay, if we come to
see that causality is not one isolated relationship among others,
but that causality ultimately implies the relationship of every
phenomenon to every other in the universe, so far from denying
causality in economics, we should have to recognise it in geometry.
So that even the analogy of geometry will not put an end to eco
nomic "causes" and economic "laws."
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 155
i. We seem to have lost somewhat our sense of
the unity of scientific method by the modern use of
the terms " law " and " cause." There is, indeed,
a great difference between a geometrical formula,
applicable irrespective of time, and a theory in
geology or biology, which cannot be expressed at
all without bringing in a reference to time ; but
nevertheless there is something common to both.
The Aristotelian logic of science, formulated with
special regard to geometry as the type of science,
is still applicable, though not fully adequate, to
science generally. Atriov, which we translate
" cause," was, in Aristotle's view, not inapplicable
in geometry. The geometrician asks " the why" of
spatial phenomena which the practical craftsman
may have discovered. The scientific " definitions "
in which a science culminates, as distinct from the
mere nominal definitions or explanations of terms
with which it begins, are what we should call
" laws." Thus the law of gravitation is our defini
tion of gravitation, a definition which gives not
merely the fact but the reason, by connecting the
fall of an apple here and now with all the matter in
the universe ; just as a proposition in geometry con
nects one fact of space-relations with others, e.g. the
properties of the parallelogram with those of the
triangle. Darwin's theory of natural selection may
be called a definition of "species," superseding the
older definition, which is descended from Plato's
theory of ideas through the mediaeval doctrine of
infima species. Suppose we agreed, then, that eco-
156 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
nomics had to do only with definitions, that would
not prevent its having to do with " laws " and
" causes."
2. Even " pure " logic, which must mean an
analysis of the forms of thought, cannot be profit
ably pursued without some reference to the language
in which our judgments are formulated, and there
fore cannot quite avoid recognition of the influences
of time and place, or does so only at the cost of
ceasing to be a genuine analysis of actual human
thought.1 Much more is this the case with a science
that deals with wealth, i.e. with the instruments for
the maintenance and enjoyment of human life and
human society. Wealth has necessarily varied in
character according to the other conditions, natural
and social, of human living. Even the exchange of
wealth cannot be properly or profitably studied, as
it were, in vacuo, apart from the conditions which
1 I cannot here discuss the question, in what sense logic is a
" pure " science. I would only point out that the more fruitful
developments of modern logic have not been brought about by
assimilating logic to a branch of algebra, but by introducing into
the analysis of logical forms some of the vivifying conceptions of
biology. I may refer to Mr. Bosanquet's Logic, where the forms
of judgment are classified on a genetic principle. This may not
be " pure " logic. It is, however, more like logic worked at in
the spirit of the Analytics than the mechanical treatment of ab
stract formulae without any examination of the concrete living
judgments which actual human beings think, and which they ex
press in this or that language. Even in logic it seems a pity that
so little account has generally been taken of the diversities of lan
guage. How much of Aristotle's logic is explicable by reference
to Greek idioms, and would have been differently phrased by any
one using a different language !
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 157
make different commodities desirable in different
degrees to different persons. The attempt to con
struct a pure theory of economics equally applicable
at all times and in all places, must necessarily result
in the economist taking certain phenomena of his
own time in isolation from their social context, and
formulating principles which can only be made
rigidly true and universal by being gradually di
vested of all reference to any reality, so that they
finally become absolutely identical, i.e. purely verbal
propositions. The interest of such formulae can
only be restored by replacing them in the historical
environment which produced them. Ricardian eco
nomics and Austinian jurisprudence, similar in their
abstractness and in their endeavour to reach absolute
universality, require to be looked at in the light of
the particular conditions of English industry and of
English legislation in the earlier part of the century.1
The attempt to escape history in dealing with human
phenomena makes the restoration of the particular
historical background of the theorist essential to the
understanding of the professedly abstract theory.
Those who have treated the laws of economics as
1 Bagehot, in his brilliant essay on The Postulates of English
Political Economy (p. 5 in Prof. Marshall's edition), points out
the analogy between " political economy as it was taught by
Ricardo," and "jurisprudence as it was taught by Austin and
Bentham," and remarks on the similar fate which has befallen
both : they have remained " insular." In each case the attempt
to work out "pure theory," unadulterated by history, has resulted
in the " theory " being unintelligible and inexplicable except in
the immediate surroundings of those who have enunciated it.
158 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
analogous to those of physics are not wrong in treat
ing the science as too concrete, but in not treating it
as concrete enough. Its place is among the social
sciences, and it fully shares the difficulties and com
plexities which attend the study of human beings
when we consider them as more than mere animals,
i.e. when we pass from biology to sociology. Eco
nomics has certainly an advantage over certain other
branches of sociology in dealing with a subject that
admits of quantitative measurement. The quanti
tative measurement of pleasures and pains (the as
sumption of the older Utilitarians) is an illusion ; but
the objects of desire admit of quantitative measure
ment by whatever medium of exchange is adopted.
The possibility of obtaining an object of desire by
exchange permits and compels the person desiring
it to quantify his demand precisely. A man climbing
a mountain under a hot sun may say vaguely that he
would give " anything " for a glass of beer ; but the
presence of a refreshment-hut may prove that his
demand does not really amount to one franc. This
possibility of expressing economic desires quantita
tively, and this alone, gives economics the appear
ance of being more closely related to the mathema
tical sciences than, e.g., jurisprudence or politics.
Statements about value have an air of mathematical
exactness, and consequently of detachment from a
historical environment which does not belong to
propositions about the relation between crime and
punishment, or about the differentiation of the
sovereign power in a community. But this facility
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 159
of general statement has in it something illusory.
As has just been said, many propositions can be
made perfectly and universally true in proportion as
they are removed from definite and particular appli
cation. We might extend the money measurement
into morals, and say that every man has his price ;
but to make the proposition true we should have to
add that there have been some men, the price of
whose corruption by certain temptations would be
something more than all the kingdoms of this world.
The maxim then simply means that every one is
induced to act in any given way by the motives
which are strong enough to make him act in that
way — which is certainly true, but is somewhat point
less, and is not quite what the royal cynic meant.
3. History stands apart from other sciences in
being concerned with things that happen once for
all : in this aspect it is not, strictly speaking, a
" science," science being concerned with universals,
with statements not about " this," but about " the."1
Yet of history we may say that it is always " wish
ing" or striving to be a science, to see the universal
in the particular — whilst giving a true picture of the
events which have happened, to give also a true
picture (as Thucydides says) "of the like events
which may be expected to happen hereafter in the
order of human things." 2 The scientific and philo-
1 Cf. Aristotle's well-known saying about poetry being more
philosophic than history, because it deals more with the universal,
with " what might occur " (Poet., c. 9).
2 Thucydides, i. 22.
160 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
sophic historian of the English or of the French
Revolution is dealing with general problems of
human nature and human society, as they appear
at a particular time, and in a particular country.
Besides the mere investigation of particular events,
there is a possible " political science " (or, at least,
a possible ideal of such a science), which, based
upon history, shall attempt to arrive at some general
" laws" about the nature and functions of the State ;
i.e., to give "definitions " of political concepts, which
shall be, wherever possible, genetic, assigning causes,
and so taking the subject explained out of its iso
lation and showing its connection with other
phenomena of social life. Thus, an analysis of
" representative government " should contain a
recognition both of its origin and of the purposes
which it serves — in Aristotelian language, of its
material, efficient, and final causes. (That a good
definition gives the " formal cause " goes without
saying.) If economic history deals with particular
events and series of events, is there not also
conceivable an economic science which deals with
the "laws " of the production, exchange, distribution
and consumption of wealth — in other words, which
gives scientific definitions (in the sense already ex
plained) of economic concepts, such as value, rent,
interest ?
In order to get economic laws, however, we must,
it may be urged, abstract from the concrete facts ;
we must make hypotheses. Our laws are not,
therefore, generalisations from observation of
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? l6l
economic facts, but deductions from the assumption
of certain facts of human nature — assumptions made
by popular psychology, supplemented (and this must
not be forgotten) by certain, usually tacit, assump
tions as to stage of civilisation, etc. Granted that
economic laws are hypothetical in their character,
that makes no difference between them and laws of
nature. Laws of nature are commonly supposed to
be generalisations from observation of facts. They
rest upon certain facts, it is true ; but they are
general only because they are hypothetical. If they
are not mere " empirical laws," i.e. mere generalisa
tions of experience, but true " laws of nature," they
contain some fact of causation, they assert a neces
sary connection, and therefore they would be most
correctly formulated as hypothetical propositions.
The true universal judgment, i.e. the judgment
which asserts necessity of connection, and which is
not a mere summation of observed particulars,1 is
best expressed in the hypothetical form. Thus :
" All triangles [not merely " all these triangles," but
' 'all triangles qua triangles"] have their angles to
gether equal to two right angles," means, " If this,
or any figure, is a triangle, it must have its angles
together equal to two right angles ; it has this
property because it is a triangle. The triangularity
is the 'cause' of its having this property." And
this proposition, this " law," if we care to call it
such, would be true, although no actual perfect
triangle could ever be "observed."
1 I.e. the judgment which is true xaloAov and not merely Kara
Travros.
D. H. M
1 62 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
The same holds in physics. The first law of
motion asserts that, " if a body be in motion, it will
move in a straight line and with a uniform velocity,
unless acted on by some external force." Where
are the "observations" from which this could be
said to be a " generalisation "? The "law" is a
statement of what is never realised in our experi
ence. Its necessity and its hypothetical character
go together. In formulating laws of nature, we are
simplifying nature for ourselves ; not attempting to
follow facts, which are too complex to be grasped
in their entirety all at once, but seeking to interpret
facts. The laws of economics claim to be laws in
the same sense. They are hypothetical propositions
stating what, under certain conditions, would happen.
(The mischief is, that " the practical man " is apt to
run off with the statement of a tendency, and to
forget the qualifying conditions.) These " certain
conditions " may be more or less far removed from
anything that can be observed or realised in our
experience. The conditions for observing the law
of gravitation in operation are not so difficult to
fulfil as the conditions for observing the first law of
motion. To observe the first law of motion (at
least, the part of it I have here quoted) in operation
is strictly impossible. In economics we can find
cases where the condition of absolutely free compe
tition is approximately realised ; but it is only an
approximation at the best. On the other hand,
such a condition as the " transferability " of labour
(to use Bagehot's expression), i.e. the possibility of
V.j WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 163
its being transferred from one occupation to another,
cannot be even approximately realised, except within
very narrow limits, or unless we take into account
a long period of time.
It is customary to oppose the abstract and de
ductive method to the historical and inductive.
Neither of these methods can exist in absolute
isolation from the other, though the opinion that
they can is apt to prevail, and to cause misunder
standing. If, to simplify some economic problem,
we set up a fictitious " economic man," a human
being actuated solely by the desire to obtain the
greatest possible wealth, we must place him in an
environment of similar individuals — and these similar
individuals must be thought of as held together in a
community, though it be merely a community based
on economic interests. We must presuppose a
certain minimum amount of mutual trust and con
fidence, even as the basis of the most purely com
mercial relation. That is to say, we borrow our
notion of the economic man from the business world
which is known to us, leaving out of sight the other
aspects and relationships of the individuals. The
fact that it is possible to construct illustrations of the
most abstract economic laws, shows that there is,
even in deductive political economy, an element of
induction, i.e. of verification in experience, though
it may be fictitious experience ; for all our fictions
must be borrowed from facts, although by a process
of abstraction. These tales of the economic text
books (" Place two men on a desert island," etc.) are
164 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
the very imperfect substitutes for the laboratory
experiments of physics and chemistry.
On the other hand, mere inductive generalisation,
unmixed with hypothesis, is impossible. Even in
collecting statistics, we must have some rough guid
ing idea to determine us what sort of " facts" to
collect. If in collecting information about London
pauperism, we find out how many of the paupers are
town-born and how many country-born, we do so
under guidance of the hypothesis, suggested to us by
our ordinary practical knowledge of human nature,
that there may be some connection between the two
sets of facts, e.g. that the town-born may be of in
ferior physique and brought up under worse con
ditions, or that the country-born may have less
capacity of adapting themselves to town life. The
falsehood of a hypothesis, as logicians have often
pointed out, does not prevent it from being useful ;
the important thing is that a hypothesis should be
capable of at least approximate proof or disproof.
It is obvious that the historian in searching for
the causes of social phenomena must have hypotheses
in his mind, just as much as the physician in making
a diagnosis of a case. Here comes in the value of
the trained imagination. The historian of the
French revolution would not make a study of the
literature of the eighteenth century, or of the opinions
then prevalent about the English constitution, or of
the American revolution, except under the idea that
these subjects had some connection with the main
subject of his research.
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 165
The difference between the method of pure theory
and the historical method can only be one of degree.
The ideal of an absolutely pure theory unmixed
with any empirical element is as impossible as the
ideal of an absolutely pure logic unmixed with any
reference to the actual judgments and actual in
ferences made by human beings. And such an ideal
seems the more out of place in a science which pro
fesses to deal with social phenomena. Mere history,
on the other hand, — if we may apply the term " his
tory " to a mere empirical collection of facts un
mixed with any element of hypothesis, any attempt
to find causal connections, — is impossible : except,
perhaps, to some kinds of lunatics. Any approach
to it seems ludicrous, as in the irrelevancies of Juliet's
nurse, or in that sentence of Burnet's, ridiculed by
Swift : " Upon the King's death, the Scots pro
claimed his son king, and sent over Sir George
Wincan, that married my great aunt, to treat with
him while he was in the Isle of Jersey." Swift asks,
in the margin of his copy, " Was that the reason
why he was sent ? " The reader expects a causal
connection, and finds a statement that has a mere
private interest to the writer.
II.
So far I have considered only the resemblance
between economic laws and laws of nature (in the
sense in which that term is used in physics, chemistry,
biology, etc.). I must now ask whether there is
any difference between a physical and a sociological
1 66 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
law ? This question involves the most important
of all philosophical questions, what is the relation of
man to nature ? — a question which is ambiguous
with, at least, all the ambiguity of the word " nature."
In one sense it may be said to be a presupposition
of any scientific study of human phenomena, whether
in psychology or in any of the social sciences, that
man is a part of nature, i.e. that his actions may be
regarded, like other events, as belonging to a
coherent and intelligible system of things — in more
familiar, though perhaps less accurate words, that
they present certain uniformities of co-existence and
sequence, capable of being discovered and expressed
in generalisations. If we are to have psychology or
any social science at all, we must recognise the
universality of the causal nexus. But while this is
admitted, we must not lose sight of the difference
between (i) events in which the agents attain ends
without purposing them, and (2) events in which
the agents attain ends which they have more or
less purposed to attain. A great part of human
phenomena belongs, as much as do the non-human
phenomena of nature, to the former class ; and even
where purpose comes in, it comes in in very different
degrees. In all parts of social evolution, many of
the most striking results have been those which the
agents did not intend. If human phenomena did
not, to some extent at least, belong to the non-
purposed class, we should often have to count the
persecutors of a religion among its supporters.
Even where the result is in the direction of that
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 167
which was designed, it often contains elements
which are due to some stronger forces than the
volitions of the individual actors, forces of the same
kind as those operating among plants and animals.
Nevertheless, we are not viewing the facts of human
evolution aright, if we fail to recognise the occasional
presence of conscious and deliberate purpose among
the causes at work. Reflection and effort are causes
which may be explained and traced back to their
causes like any others, but they make a difference
between the regions where they are present and
those where they are not.
The first effect of applying scientific methods and
conceptions to human phenomena, and so lifting
them out of the domain of chance or arbitrariness,
has generally been to produce a feeling of the help
lessness of individual and even of social effort, in
the presence of great natural forces and tendencies.
The recognition of order (i.e. of what is order to the
scientific understanding, not necessarily to the moral
sense) has been apt to mean the abdication of
rational endeavour. It is therefore worth calling
attention to the differences which gradually show
themselves between social and merely natural
phenomena.
Some instructive illustrations of the resemblance
and difference between human and physical science
may be found in the case of language. It has been
argued that language has a life and growth of its
own with which men cannot interfere. In support
of this view, Professor Max Miiller has brought
1 68 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
forward the famous examples of the Emperor
Tiberius being unable to give Roman citizenship
to a word not recognised by grammarians, and of
the Emperor Sigismund being unable to make
schisma feminine at the Council of Constance. But
can it be inferred frpm this that the development of
language is a purely natural process? In the first
place, an absolute ruler can permanently alter very
little of anything, unless he has a strong current of
public opinion with him. As has been said of the
Emperor of China, " Le fils du ciel peut tout — mais
a condition de ne vouloir que ce qui est connu et
traditionnel." These stones of Tiberius and Sigis
mund do not prove language a natural growth in
dependent of human volition, any more than any
admitted " institutions," such as laws, social usages,
fashions of dress, etc. Secondly, while it is obviously
true that the will of an individual^ however highly
placed, can do very little, yet many changes in
language are ultimately dependent on the will of
individuals. Who gives nicknames ? Who invents
slang ? Generally it is impossible to discover ; and
yet we know that some one person must have used
the new term first of all, just as much as in the case
of new technical terms, where the originator can be
more easily traced. Introductions of new words or
phrases, which we may observe within our own
experience, are, however, only specimens of the
nature of a process which has always been going on
in language. The new ''variation" must originate
with some individual. If it proves convenient, or in
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 169
any way suits the fancy of others, it takes root and
spreads ; if not, it withers and dies out. The rise
of literature gives greater fixity to language : the
establishment of schools, the recognition of certain
usages as " classical," the making of grammars and
dictionaries increase the force of the check imposed
on " natural," i.e. simply unconscious, phonetic
change. But such fixity is produced by more or
less deliberate human institutions. The most con
spicuous case of what, by contrast, might be called
merely natural change, is where a people, adopting
a new language (e.g. that of a conquering tribe),
modify sounds that are difficult or unfamiliar to
them. Here the resultant language might almost
be compared to a chemical combination. But there
is no limit to fas. possible changes in language that
may be made on conscious individual initiative,
except the limit of the capacities of the human voice.
No fashion could induce men to speak with the
tongues of nightingales or larks.
Political institutions supply other illustrations of
the relation between the volitional and the merely
natural element in human history. That " constitu
tions are not made, but grow," is accepted as so
much a commonplace that people forget to ask,
"How do they grow ? " At least, they grow not
exactly like weeds, but like cabbages that have to
be planted. Besides, the most ingenious political
schemes come to nothing, if not adapted to the
people and the time ; they are unsuccessful ''varia
tions." But every change in law or custom must
1 7O WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
originate in some person doing or abstaining from
doing some particular thing. So that the "growth"
of constitutions does not exclude the "making" of
various parts of them. The idea of " natural
selection " will apply perfectly to human evolution,
if we remember that the variations on which natural
selection works in human phenomena arise, not
merely (i) "spontaneously" or "accidentally" (the
words we use to express our refusal or our incapacity
to pursue the question farther), but (2) by imitation
— which is at least a half-conscious process — and
(3) by deliberate effort, as the result of reflection,
with a view to obtain certain ends. Where such
reflection has really anticipated what is advantage
ous, natural selection seems to be superseded in
successful artificial or rational selection.1 The limits
of deliberate constitutional change are sufficiently
obvious ; they are, chiefly, geographical conditions
(though the effect of these may be very much
modified by mechanical inventions) and the in
tellectual and moral capacities of any particular race
(though these may be greatly affected by the dis
cipline of education and religion).
Changes in the economic condition of a people
are, it is clear, very largely dependent on circum
stances over which man's control is limited. The
duration and hardiness of human life, climate, the
supply of minerals, the fertility of the soil, the
1 On this subject I may refer to what I have said at greater
length in Darwinism and Politics, second edition. See especially
pp. 24-36, 99-106, 126-131.
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? \J\
facilities of communication, are all in different
degrees incapable of modification. There are,
further, obvious limitations to the possibility of
human effort and endurance, though these may be
greatly modified by improved methods, by economy
of labour, etc. There are also certain necessary
limits to the extent to which any given occupation
may be adopted by the members of a community.
Thus, to take an old and extreme instance, every
body could not subsist by taking in everybody else's
washing.
But there are very many economic phenomena
which are dependent on individual action and social
approval, e.g. the different forms of land-tenure, the
degree in which freedom of bequest is permitted, the
kind of contracts which are sanctioned by law and
custom. All these may be and have been altered—
not indeed by the arbitrary will of individuals acting
in isolation, but by the will of individuals approved
of by the general consent, or submitted to by the
general acquiescence of the community.
Such matters as the hours of labour, the standard
of comfort, the health conditions of industrial oc
cupations, are partly dependent on natural necessities
which can only be affected through mechanical
inventions, but partly also on custom, which may be
affected by moral and political changes. Thus,
while it has been proved that the hours of labour
can, in many cases, be diminished to some extent,
without a necessary diminution in the product of
labour, it is clear that this diminution cannot go on
1/2 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
indefinitely ; else with no work at all, as much
would be produced as with a great deal of work.
But what amount of commodities are required, and
what kind of commodities, are questions which
depend, to a large extent, on demands which are
not permanently fixed by the nature of things, but
are partly dependent on moral causes. Such ques
tions are surely proper subject-matter for scientific
inquiry ; if they are not the subject-matter of
economics — "applied economics" let it be called, if
necessary — to what science do they belong ? They
cannot belong purely to economic history ; for
history has to do only with what has been, and here
we are dealing with questions as to what economic
conditions are possible, and what are their usual or
probable effects on human well-being.
The recognition of a "moral factor" in economic
law need not therefore vitiate the scientific character
of the study : it will only make the difference between
a less abstract and a more abstract "law." The
more conditions our law takes account of, the more
likely are we to be able to verify it in experience.
Political history and the history of morals also
have gained from the recognition of the economic
factor. It is essential to have the connection
pointed out between political, moral, and even
intellectual revolutions on the one side, and eco
nomic changes on the other, to see how economic
pressure has often brought about what moral
efforts alone could not effect. But it would be quite
a perversion of truth to resolve everything solely
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 173
into its economic conditions : and it would be to
misunderstand those economic conditions them
selves. Economic wants are dependent on the
whole social environment in which people live ; and
therefore moral, religious, intellectual, artistic con
ditions must be taken account of in order to explain
them fully. Man cannot live without bread or some
equivalent ; but man cannot live, and never has
lived, by bread alone.
If "Nature" be taken to include the whole of
human phenomena, then it is inconsistent to exclude
from nature anything that may be done by con
scious and deliberate human effort. If we say " All
that is is nature," we must include in our conception
of nature the spiritual ideals as well as the material
necessities of man. But, if so, it is inconsistent to
deny intelligence or a "spiritual principle" in what
we call nature, since this intelligence or spiritual
principle shows itself in human beings. It is in
consistent science to regard man as entirely within
nature, and yet to exclude from nature, in the
widest sense, the highest intelligence and the
highest goodness that have shown themselves in
man. And it is surely an inconsistent " natural
theology " which sees God in natural forces and yet
refuses to recognise the clearer revelation of wisdom
and justice in the history of social institutions and of
philosophical and religious ideas — which sees God
in the earthquake and the whirlwind, and yet
refuses to hear when He speaks writh the human
voice of legislator, sage, and prophet.
1 74 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ? [v.
III.
To recognise the existence of economic laws
o
analogous to laws of nature does not require us to
exclude from them the moral factor. But this re
cognition of the moral factor does not turn economic
laws into moral laws. Moral laws are precepts re
specting conduct : the phrase " moral laws " implies
that morality is regarded on the analogy of a legal
code. The term " laws" is used in the same sense
as that in which it is used by lawyers — as an ex
pression for what is expected to be done, not for what
necessarily, under certain conditions, must happen.
If the word " must " is used in expressing " moral
laws," it means "ought to," and not, as in laws
of nature, " cannot but." In both senses, indeed,
"law" implies uniformity. Law, in the juridical
sense, though it may nowadays be thought of as a
command issued by a sovereign, was, in primitive
times, simply the custom of the tribe, which every one
was expected to follow, and which almost all persons
did, as a matter of fact, follow. And. in the ethical
sense, though moral laws may, among the higher re
ligions, be regarded as enjoined by a divine legislator,
primitive ideas of right mean the observance of the
customs of our fathers. But, in spite of this resem
blance, laws in the moral and juridical sense cannot
be completely assimilated to laws of nature, not
even if we introduce the sanction of them. "If you
commit murder, you will be hanged," is not like
a law of nature ; because a murderer may escape
hanging. " Murderers, if caught and convicted, are
V.J WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? 175
generally hanged," would, indeed, be a sociological
law, analogous to a law of nature, expressing the
prevailing custom. But in any formula which ex
presses a moral or juridical law there must be an
expression, not of simple fact, but of something
which is expected as right, although it may be that
which is not always done. Even if ethics be looked
at entirely from the point of view of the natural
sciences and " metaphysics " rigidly excluded from
it, it is still necessary to recognise the distinction
between moral laws and sociological laws. " If
society is to hold together and prosper, its members
must keep faith with one another." This may be
called a sociological law ; it may be reached by
deduction from some obvious psychological facts,
supplemented by inductions from our ordinary
experience and from history. It expresses the fact
that human beings have to recognise the " moral
law " which enjoins fidelity to one another. The
liar, the fraudulent person, and the various violators
of this moral law do not, and cannot, violate the
sociological law : they illustrate it. A healthy
society wars against them ; because if they become
abundant, any society will go to pieces. " In primi
tive conditions of society rigid observance of custom
is essential to cohesion "• —this is a sociological law,
on which Bagehot has written luminously in his
Physics and Politics. The " moral law " belonging
to this stage of society would be, " Thou shalt
not be eccentric" — a law which, in the form, " Thou
shalt strictly follow the fashion," still holds among
176 WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS? [v.
various groups of civilised persons who, for many
purposes, are in the mental condition of barbarians.
This sociological law is a law of the same kind as
the biological law, that animals in a state of nature
(i.e. not domesticated by man) do not exhibit un-
symmetrical markings, because those with unsym-
metrical markings are crushed out by natural selec
tion. The moral law corresponding to this would
be the precept, " Thou shalt not have unsymmetrical
markings"-— which sounds meaningless, because the
tiger or the leopard cannot at will change his stripes
or his spots.
Laws of nature, then, including sociological laws,
cannot be violated. If a law of nature seems to be
violated, either it has been incorrectly formulated, or
else we are speaking, incorrectly, of violating a law
of nature when we really mean violating some pre
cept of prudence based — or supposed to be based—
on a knowledge of the law. The man who dies from
wilfully eating poison has violated the precepts of
health : he illustrates the laws of physiology. Econo
mic laws, being sociological laws, are not precepts ;
in the strict sense they cannot be violated. Those
who boast that they " believe in economic laws "
can only mean that they believe in a certain form of
society as desirable ; and it would be less misleading
if they said so openly. Economic laws are true or
false. They are to be believed or disbelieved ;
they are not an ideal which can be believed in. It
is necessary to protest strongly, and even at the risk
of repeating truisms, against this common confusion
77
V.] WHAT ARE ECONOMIC LAWS ?
of language about economic laws. The protest is
necessary both in the interests of science and in the
interests of practical politics. The student of eco
nomic science, as such, does not provide social
precepts ; it is his business to study the phenomena
in the same spirit as that in which the physiologist
and pathologist study the phenomena of health
and disease. The practical physician is dependent
on their discoveries ; and the relation of the practical
politician or social reformer to the economic theorist
ought to be of the same kind, and of the same kind
only. The physician is concerned with the life-
history of microbes, with a view to the safe-guarding
of human health ; and similarly the politician is con
cerned with the operation of economic forces, not in
order that he may necessarily always give them a
free field to operate in, but in order that he may
further them, check them, or direct them into new
channels, so far as it is possible for him to do so, in
the interests of social health. It is not meant, ot
course, that the functions of the scientific economist
and of the social reformer cannot be combined in
the same person, but simply that the functions are
distinct from one another, and that the most careful
student of facts is the least likely to confuse socio
logical 'Maws" with moral ideals or precepts of
political practice.
D. H.
N
VI.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY.1
u THE great and chief end of men's uniting into
commonwealths and putting themselves under
government is the preservation of their property."
This opinion of Locke may to some readers appear
to express, with an air of unintended satire, the
principles of the Whig statesmen who carried out
that glorious and peaceable Revolution of 1688, of
which the " Treatise of Civil Government " is the
theoretical defence. We should, however, be
misinterpreting Locke and those whose ideas he
represents, did we not attend to his own explanation
of the term " Property." A man's property means,
according to him, "his life, liberty, and estate" (II.
§§ 87, 123). "By property," he says elsewhere
(§ J73)> "I must be understood to mean that
property which men have in their persons as well
as goods." Property, in the sense of "estate" or
possessions, is not to Locke, as indeed it could
hardly be to any philosopher or thoughtful person,
an ultimate category, a conception standing in need
1 Reprinted from the Economic Review, January, 1891.
2 Treatise of Civil Government, II. § 124.
T78
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 179
of no further justification. It is derived from the
conception of human personality.
" Though the earth and all inferior creatures be common to all
men, yet every man has a property in his own person. This no
body has any right to but himself. The labour of his body and
the work of his hands we may say are properly his. Whatsoever,
then, he removes out of the state that Nature hath provided and
left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something
that is his own, and thereby makes it his property. It being by him
removed from the common state Nature hath placed it in, it hath
by this labour something annexed to it that excludes the common
right of other men. For this labour being the unquestionable
property of the labourer, no man but he can have a right to what
that is once joined to, at least where there is enough and as good
left in common for others " (II. § 27).
Thus, in this apology for the most conservative of
revolutions, we seem to come upon the theoretic
basis of modern Socialism — that to the labourer
rightfully belongs the product of his toil. But we
need not go far in Locke to find inconsistencies, or
at least difficulties, in the working out of his theory.
At the end of the very next section (§ 28) he says :
" The grass my horse has bit, the turfs my servant has cut, and
the ore I have digged in any place where I have a right to them
in common with others, become my property without the assigna
tion or consent of anybody."
horse and wy servant are thus equally with my
labour the means by which I acquire property ; so
that the capitalist employer of labour would, accord
ing to this clause, be fully entitled to the entire
product created by his servants, if he can manage to
get it.
i8o LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
The qualifying clause at the end of § 27, " At least
where there is enough and as good left in common for
others" suggests an endless series of difficulties. We
can, indeed, easily think of occasions on which " the
state of Nature " allows this qualification a real
practical value. Thus, men on a desert island or
travelling through unoccupied territory need impose
no limit on their use of the fruits and game they can
obtain, save a consideration for each other's needs.
But does such a principle afford us help as a criterion
for estimating the value of positive laws or the con
duct of established governments ? Thus, when
Locke says (§32), "As much land as a man tills,
plants, improves, cultivates, and can use the product
of, so much is his property," this may be considered
an excellent maxim for legislation in a new country,
but would certainly seem to condemn the land-system
of England. Locke, however, does not regard
positive law as condemned simply because it is not
identical with " the law of Nature." The convenient
fiction of a ''tacit agreement" allows him to take
positive law out of the range of a too revolutionary
criticism. That most land is actually appropriated,
and that only the ocean is the "great and still re
maining common of mankind " (§ 30), are facts due
to the Social Compact. Locke does not hold, like
Hobbes, that in the state of Nature every man has
a right to everything, but only that every man has
a right to as much as he can use without depriving
others of a similar advantage. Thus, if every one
were peaceably disposed and considerate of others,
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 181
mankind might apparently have remained in the
state of Nature. But as every one does not obey
the law of Nature, the state of Nature has its incon
veniences ; there are no judges to pronounce sentence
on those who have violated the law of Nature, and
no officials to carry out the sentences (§§ 87, 124-
126). The aggrieved individual must either be
judge and executioner himself, or submit in patience
to the encroachments of the covetous and violent.
" Every man his own law-court, and every man his
own policeman," would be an awkward maxim ;
and Locke's state of Nature turns out, in the long
run, to be not much better than that of Hobbes.
To avoid its inconveniences, men have " incorpor
ated " themselves into a body politic, " wherein the
majority have a right to act and conclude the rest "
(§ 95). The right of majorities Locke bases simply
on the preponderance of force. "It is necessary,"
he says, "the body should move that way whither
the greater force carries it, which is the consent of
the majority " (§ 96). The admirable phrase of Sir
James Fitzjames Stephen, " We agree to try
strength by counting heads instead of breaking
heads,"1 suggests that Locke might have based this
right of majorities on an express or tacit compact,
rather than on mere force, which in many cases does
not reside with the numerical majority.
Political societies having come into existence, and
having entrusted the power of the communities thus
formed to governments (of whatever type) in order
1 Liberty ', Equality, Fraternity, p. 31 (Edit. 2).
1 82 LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
to carry out the purposes for which political society
exists, might it not seem as if the <( property" which
should be preserved by governments ought to be
the property which is in accordance with the law of
Nature ? A government that confiscated all land
in excess of what the owner could himself " till and
use the product of" might seem to be doing more
for the preservation of " property" (in Locke's sense
of the term) than a government that encouraged the
formation of large estates. Locke is not unprepared
for this objection, though he never expressly faces
it. f^Although men are " by Nature all free, equal
and independent " (§ 95), yet—
"it is plain that men have agreed to a disproportionate and un
equal possession of the earth, they having, by a tacit and voluntary
consent, found out a way how a man may fairly possess more land
than he himself can use the product of by receiving in exchange
for the overplus gold and silver, which may be hoarded up with
out injury to any one, these metals not spoiling or decaying in the
hands of the possessor. This partage of things in an inequality
of private possessions men have made practicable out of the
bounds of society and without compact, only by putting a value
on gold and silver, and tacitly agreeing in the use of money ; for
in Governments the laws regulate the right of property, and the
possession of land is determined by positive constitutions " (§ 50). 1
This appears to mean that, apart from the social
compact and from the positive laws of any given
community, gold and silver possess a value as
1 In the original edition of Locke's Treatise (followed, ap
parently, by Professor Morley in his edition of 1884, in the
" Universal Library " Series), this passage is in great confusion.
In the preface to the collected edition of Locke's Works of 1714
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 183
money l by the consent of mankind ; and since
money makes it possible to enlarge possessions
without offending " against the common laws of
Nature" (§§ 36, 37), as is done by accumulating
perishable goods, such as rotting fruits or putrefying
venison, it would seem that inequality of property
is not contrary to the law of Nature. But such in
equality as leaves to some persons an insufficient
amount must be contrary to the law of Nature as
understood by Locke ; it cannot be supposed to be
due to a general consent of mankind, and must
therefore be entirely due to the action or inaction of
the governments to which mankind have entrusted
the preservation of their lives, liberties, and estates.
Now, Locke accepts the existing institutions of any
given society as binding on those who enjoy its
it is said that the Treatises on Civil Government are for the first
time printed from a copy corrected by himself. I have quoted
the passage according to this revised version (which is followed
by Professor Morley in his edition of Book II. in CasselFs
" National Library " — 1889). In the clause immediately preced
ing the words quoted, Locke says, "Since gold and silver . . .
has its value only from the consent of men, whereof labour yet
makes, in great part, the measure." I suppose that "whereof"
refers to " value. " Locke seems to mean that the value of money
is not entirely arbitrary or conventional, but depends partly on
the labour of procuring the precious metals. The greater scarcity
of gold would, I suppose, be expressed by him as the greater
"labour " or difficulty of finding it.
1 Money is defined in § 47 as "some lasting thing that men
might keep without spoiling, and that, by mutual consent, men
would take in exchange for the truly useful but perishable supports
of life."
184 LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
privileges, even where these institutions deviate
very considerably from the law of Nature. Thus
he holds that, by the law of Nature, a man's children
(when of full age) are " as free as himself, or any of
his ancestors ever were, to choose what society they
will join themselves to, what commonwealth they
will put themselves under " (§ 73) ; and he holds
also that, by the law of Nature, children have a
right to inherit the goods of their parents (Book I.
§ 88) : nevertheless, he allows that a government
may make political allegiance a necessary condition
of the inheritance of property (II. § 73), so that the
" natural rights " of children " vanish into thin air "
before the positive law of particular societies. The
right of inheritance Locke bases on the instinct of
self-preservation and the instinct of propagating the
species. " Men being by a like obligation bound to
preserve what they have begotten, as to preserve
themselves, their issue come to have a right in the
goods they are possessed of" (Book I. § 88). 1 It is
not said whether, by the law of Nature, all children
inherit equally, as we should suppose must be the
case. " Every man," we are told in Book II. § 190,
" is born with a double right. First, a right of
freedom to his person, which no other man has a
power over, but the free disposal of it lies in him
self. Secondly, a right, before any other man,
to inherit, with his brethren, his father's goods."
1 All the other references in this article are to Book II.
Book I. is entirely occupied with the refutation of Filmer's
Patriarcha.
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 185
Whether "with" means " equally with," Locke does
not say ; he certainly wishes to exclude primo
geniture from the law of Nature, in opposition to Sir
Robert Filmer's argument for the Divine right of
kings. But on the analogy of the passage in Book
II- § 73> we should infer that Locke does not con
sider primogeniture a sufficient departure from the
law of Nature to justify revolution. Those who
do not like it may go elsewhere. The landless, the
portionless, and the disinherited must find what
consolation they can in this natural birthright of
exile.
To deal fairly with the fictitious formulas in which
the thinkers of the seventeenth century clothe their
political principles, we must translate their phrases
back into the political feelings to which these phrases
give an abstract intellectual expression ; we must re
place their theories in their original setting of facts.
Thus when Hobbes says, availing himself of etymo
logy, that Rebellion is a return to the state of Nature
which is the war of all against all, what he feels is
that any strong- established government which will
secure peace is to be preferred to the possible risk of
anarchy. When Locke lays down that government
exists for the preservation of the natural rights of
man, he is not bringing the fierce light of the law of
Nature to bear on the intricate mysteries of the law
of England ; he has no grievance against " promul
gated standing laws and known authorised judges,"
but only against "extemporary arbitrary decrees"
(Cf. II. §136). His theory of revolution does not
1 86 LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
go beyond the quarrel of Parliament with the King.
It is true he suggests a reform of the "gross absur
dities" of a parliamentary representation which
allowed "the bare name of a town, of which there
remains not so much as the ruins," to " send as many
representatives to the grand assembly of law-makers
as a whole county numerous in people and powerful
in riches" (§ 157). His remedy, curiously enough,
is a stretch of the royal prerogative "for the public
good" (§ 158). He does not seem to think that
Parliament could or would reform itself. But when
a revolution is needed to secure a parliamentary
government at all and an impartial administration
of the customary law of the land, it is hardly to be
expected that either practical statesmen or political
philosophers should be much occupied with the per
fecting of valuable institutions whose very existence
was at stake. The distribution of property in Eng
land might or might not be in accordance with the
common good, but it was better that it should be in
the hands of an English Parliament needing reform,
and of English judges administering antiquated law,
than at the arbitrary disposal of the pensioner of a
foreign king or the submissive penitent of foreign
priests.
Let us return, however, to Locke's derivation of
the right of property from labour, and consider some
further points in the way he works it out. It might,
indeed, be suggested that such inquiries are a mere
waste of time ; that the historical method alone can
give fruitful results, and that it would be more profit-
vi. J LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 187
able to examine the practices of primitive societies
and the vestiges of primitive law, in the endeavour
to discover the actual origin of the right of property
among different portions of the human race. But
there is a meaning in the philosophical question that
Locke attempts to answer — a question, not as to
the historical origin, but as to the logical basis of
the institution. It is not a properly relevant criticism
of the Social Contract theory to say that no such
contract ever did take place, that (as Carlyle puts it)
the date has not been fixed by Jean Jacques. Hume,
with his usual acuteness, saw that a logical refutation
of the theory was needed as well ; and his argument,
that it is absurd to base the obligation to obey the
laws on the obligation not to break one's word, is
more fatal to the value of this famous and hard-dyin^
theory than the observation that the early stages of
a political society are just those in which there is
least scope for contract.1 Locke indeed rather lays
himself open to the historical criticism by bringing
in "examples of history" (§§ 102-104); but we
should not be treating him fairly, if we laid much
stress on the imperfections of the argument from
"the beginning of Rome and Venice," beyond point
ing out that the original settlers of a city community
must be removed by several degrees from a state
of Nature.
And so with the theory of property. We must
treat it as a logical analysis of the right of property,
undertaken with a view to discover its basis in the
1 See Hume's Essay, Of the Original Contract.
1 88 LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
law of Nature, and we must understand by the state
of Nature, not some actual state antecedent in time
to existing societies, but the abstraction which would
remain were we to strip off from mankind all the
positive institutions of society. " The state of
Nature," says Locke, "has a law of Nature to
govern it, which obliges every one ; and reason,
which is that law, teaches all mankind who will but
consult it, that, being all equal and independent, no
one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty,
or possessions " (§ 6). This means that Locke's
political thinking starts with the abstract individual
as a basis. The individual is supposed to exist
apart from society, and yet to be possessed of rights
of person and property, such as are only intelligible
in society, unless by " rights " we simply mean
"mights." Locke's individuals in the state of
Nature are really members of a sort of society, if
their right to liberty and property is limited by a
consideration for others. The "state of Nature"
of Hobbes and Spinoza is a conception that is at
least not self-contradictory ; " right" in it is "might,"
and nothing else. Locke's "state of Nature" is
neither a correct representation of what would exist
if we abstract from all society ; nor, again, is it an
ideal to which he would demand conformity on the
part of actual societies (which is what is generally
meant by those who talk about their " natural
rights "). Locke's " state of Nature " is a hopeless
mongrel of the two. It is more plausible than a
more consistent conception, just because it contains
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 189
nothing to startle ordinary thinking, which always
avoids the trouble of being thorough. Put a few
Englishmen, not being confirmed criminals, on a
desert island, without any definite authority to
govern them, and the probability is that, even if
they are rather a rough lot, they will act on the
whole according to Locke's law of Nature. They
will divide the island among themselves, so that
each has some share ; they will each think it right
to defend his own life and goods against the rest ;
but they will be ready to help each other in sickness
or danger, and they will probably let a man's son
inherit his father's lot. They will do all this just
because they are not, and never were, in a state of
Nature, but are Englishmen, the products of centu
ries of social evolution. Theories which attempt to
explain society on the basis of individual rights pre
suppose the society they profess to explain.
The most instructive difficulty in Locke's account
of property remains to be noticed. He sees that
property is not all the product of labour : he claims,
however, on " a very modest computation," that " of
the products of the earth useful to the life of man,
nine-tenths are the effect of labour " —though in
most cases he would put ninety-nine hundredths "to
the account of labour " (§ 40). The exact propor
tion does not, indeed, matter, because Locke holds
that to have " mixed his labour with it" (§27) is
enough to turn into a man's own property what
was previously the gift of God to mankind in com
mon (§25).
LOCKES THEORY OF PROPERTY. vi.
Nature, however, will not dispute ownership with
man, not at least in the same sense in which his
fellow-men may ; and how is this dispute between
man and man to be avoided ?
" 'Tis not barely the ploughman's pains, the reaper's and
thresher's toil, and the baker's sweat is to be counted into the
bread we eat ; the labour of those who broke the oxen, who
digged and wrought the iron and stones, who felled and framed
the timber employed about the plough, mill, oven, or any other
utensils, which are a vast number requisite to this corn, from its
sowing to its being made into bread, must all be charged on the
account of labour, and received as an effect of that. Nature and
the earth furnished only the almost worthless materials as in them
selves " (§ 43).
Locke sees that we must go even further, and that
it would be almost impossible to reckon up all the
different forms of industry that directly or indirectly
go to the making of a loaf of bread. So many men
have "mixed their labour" with Nature. But
whose, then, is the loaf ?
The solitary hunter may clearly be said to acquire
a natural right to the game he secures by his
strength and skill : he did not make the bird or
beast, but he makes it "his." This is the simplest
case of the acquisition of property. Here man is
nearest to the mere animals. But what of the
weapons the hunter uses ? These he may also have
himself made out of the materials with which Nature
provides him; but they may be made by others, and
in a more advanced stage of human life they are
certain to be the product of many men's work.
vi. J LOCKE'S THEORY OK PROPERTY. 191
Whose, then, are they ? The makers or the
user's? Implements of hunting, including horses
and dogs, were in ancient Lacedsemon available for
common use j1 and this is a recognition as "right"
of what is always true as " fact," viz. the social
character of almost all products of human effort
among human beings living in any sort of society.
Locke, as we have seen, enumerates some of the
various forms of labour which go to the making of
a loaf of bread. But others might be added even
to the indefinite list of handicrafts that he suggests.
The soldiers that guard a country from invasion, so
that harvests can be reaped in peace; the magis
trates who are a terror to evil-doers ; all those who
increase the knowledge, quicken the intelligence,
and raise the character of the community, and so
make complicated industrial relations more possible
between human beings ; — all these might claim a
part in the making even of a loaf of bread. That is
to say, the loaf is not merely the product of Nature
plus Labour, but of Nature //?« Social Labour; and
this social labour is not merely an aggregate of the
labour of various individuals, but it is the labour of
individuals working in an organised society. It is
not, therefore, the individuals as individuals that
have " mixed their labour" with Nature, but the
individuals as members of a society. Therefore, if
we translate the facts into Locke's phraseology, we
must say that, by the law of Nature, i.e. according
to reason, apart from any explicit or tacit consent of
1 Cf. Aristotle, Pol., II. 5, § 7 ; Xen., De Rep. Lac., c. 6.
LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
the individuals composing the community, the loaf
belongs to the society as a whole, and not to this or
that individual. To what individual it belongs must
depend, not on natural law, but on the positive law
of the land ; and it is the natural right of the in
dividuals to see to it, that the positive law of the
land is in accordance with the common good of the
society.
We cannot, therefore, treat " property " as a cate
gory independent of society, except by a false
abstraction. Whether property belongs to individ
uals or not, or in what degree, depends on the
arrangements of the particular society ; and, of
course, whatever a society leaves untouched it must
be supposed to sanction. And the true criterion by
which to judge these arrangements is not the ab
straction of natural rights, but, as Locke himself
practically recognises, the common good of society.
By a happy inconsistency, Locke again and again
moves away from the region of metaphysical fictions
about Nature to what, in a wide sense of the term,
we may call the utilitarian standard of the common
good.1 Near the outset of the second book of the
Treatise on Civil Government we find a safer de
scription of the end of government than is given
later on :—
" Political power I take to be a right of making laws with penal
ties of death, and consequently all less penalties, for the regulating
1 Cf. Leslie Stephen, English Thought in the Eighteenth Century,
vol. ii. p. 138.
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 193
and preserving of property, and of employing the force of the
community in the execution of such laws, and in the defence of
the commonwealth from foreign injury, and all this only for the
public good" (§3).
Property is not merely to be preserved, but regu
lated '; not the maintenance of individual rights, but
the common good, is the ultimate end of law and
government.
Locke has received great praise for his theory of
property. M 'Culloch says of him that " he has given
a far more distinct and comprehensive statement of
the fundamental principle that labour is the grand
source of value, and consequently of wealth, than is
to be found even in the Wealth of Nations. It
was but little attended to by his contemporaries or by
subsequent inquirers. He was not himself aware
of the vast importance of the principle he had devel
oped ; and three-quarters of a century elapsed before
it began to be generally perceived that an inquiry
into the means by which labour might be rendered
most efficient was the object of that portion of
political economy which treats of the production
of wealth."1 But was Locke's inquiry the same as
Adam Smith's ? Adam Smith holds that wealth is
the result of labour ; Locke was dealing, not with
wealth in general, but with property, i.e. with wealth
appropriated. And we have seen how little indi-
1 Literature of Political Economy (p. 4), quoted by Professor
Fraser, in his valuable little book on Locke (in the series of
Philosophical Classics for English headers) which appeared just
two hundred years after the publication of Locke's chief works
[1890].
D. H. 0
194 LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. [vi.
vidual labour explains private property. To have
stimulated the thought of Adam Smith is indeed to
have rendered a greater service than if Locke had
avoided some difficulties and inconsistencies by
keeping within the limits of the theory of property
which he inherited from Grotius and Puffendorf.
But I think that Hallam has said what is the reverse
of the truth, when he speaks of " the superiority in
good sense and satisfactory elucidation of his principle,
which Locke has manifested in this important chap
ter," over these writers.1 Grotius and Puffendorf do
not attempt to go behind the theory of an agreement
or pact, express or tacit, by which men consent to a
division of what was originally common.2 Locke,
seeking to get further back, has treated the matter
too slightly, whether from the point of view of history
or of logical analysis ; and has, in the meantime, lost
sight of the valuable element of truth contained in
this theory of compact. The theory, applied to
government, gave a convenient expression to the
conviction that rulers are not responsible to God
alone, in any sense which excludes their responsibility
to human society. This was the political principle
that had to be fought for with sword and pen in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Constitutional
questions are less urgent now than economic ; but
may we hope that the social nature of wealth, and
1 Hallam, Introd. to the Literature of Europe in the Fifteenth,
Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries, III., p. 442 (4th edit.).
2 Grotius, De Jure Belli et Pads, II., cap. ii., §ii. 5 ; Puffendorf,
Dejure Naturce et Gentium, IV. iv., § 4.
vi.] LOCKE'S THEORY OF PROPERTY. 195
the responsibility to the community of those who hold
the means of its production, will become a part of
the general conscience without the necessity of so
severe a struggle ? Moral conviction, however, is
not quite enough ; constitutional safeguards are
necessary against the misgovernment of rulers who
might be inclined to say, " Letat, c'est moi," and so
may legal safeguards be necessary against the self
ishness of those who claim a "right" to do what
they like with what they call " their own."
VII.
CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE HISTORY OF
THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY.1
I.
THE theory of the social contract belongs in an
especial manner to the political philosophers of the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. But it did
not originate with them. It had its roots in the
popular consciousness of mediaeval society. As a
philosophical theory it had already been anticipated
by the Greek Sophists.
The intellectual movement of Hellas in the period
following the Persian war, though more rudimentary
and less complex, is of the same type with the re
awakening of the spirit of rationalism and criticism
after the slumber of the middle ages — a slumber less
profound than we are sometimes apt to imagine.
Institutions come to be questioned instead of being
simply accepted ; the rights of the individual are
made the measure and standard of their value.
Aristotle 2 refers to Lycophron the Sophist as having
1 Reprinted, with some corrections, from the Political Science
Quarterly \ December, 1891.
2 Politics, III. 9, § 8.
196
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 197
held that law is merely a " contract," a surety for the
mutual respecting of rights, and not capable of making
the citizens good and just. Here we have in germ
what used to be called the theory of the Rechtsstat 1—
the theory that the function of government is limited
to the protection of the rights of individuals. This
is the doctrine which Professor Huxley, criticising
Mr. Herbert Spencer, has called "Administrative
Nihilism." In the second book of Plato's Republic,
Glaucon, representing the opinion of the new enlight
enment, gives an account of the origin of civil society
which is identical with part of the theory of Hobbes.'2
All men, according to Glaucon, naturally try to get
as much as they can for themselves — " to encroach,"
in the phrase of Hobbes. To escape the evils that
arise from this mutual aggression, they make a com
pact to abstain from injuring each other, and this
compact constitutes what we call " justice," or law.8
Socrates, in Plato's Crito, refuses to listen to his
friends who urge him to escape from prison : he
argues that the Athenian citizen, through having
enjoyed the privileges of protection from Athenian
law, has made a practical agreement (a " tacit con-
1 Cf. Bluntschli, Theory of the State, Book V. ch. iii. (English
translation, Edit. 2), p. 315 ; Holtzendorff, Principien der Politik,
p. 213. Holtzendorff distinguishes clearly from this use of the
term Rechtsstat the frequent modern use of it simply in the sense
of " constitutional " as distinct from " arbitrary " government.
2 The views of Thrasymachus the Sophist, in the first book, are
identical with the other part of Hobbes's theory, namely, the con
ception of right as based on the command of the sovereign.
3 Republic, 359.
198 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
tract," we might call it) to obey the laws of Athens,
even when he considers them unjust.
" The laws will say : Consider, Socrates, if we are speaking truly,
that in your present attempt you are going to do us an injury.
For, after having brought you into the world, and nurtured and
educated you, and given you and every other citizen a share in
every good which we had to give, we further proclaim to every
Athenian that if he does not like us, when he has come of age and
has seen the ways of the city and made our acquaintance, he may
go where he pleases and take his goods with him. . . . But
he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice
and administer the state, and still remains, has entered into an
implied contract [literally, * has agreed in fact '] that he will do
as we command him. " l
The argument, that the citizen is bound to obey
a law he may dislike because he is free to leave the
state if he choose, is exactly similar to that of
Locke :
"Every man's children being by nature as free as himself or any
of his ancestors ever were, may, whilst they are in that freedom,
choose what society they will join themselves to, what common
wealth they will put themselves under. But if they will enjoy the
inheritance of their ancestors, they must take it on the same terms
their ancestors had it, and submit to all the conditions annexed
to such possession." a
Hume, in his essay Of the Original Contract,
ignores the passage I have referred to in Plato's
Republic, saying :
" The only passage I meet with in antiquity where the obligation
of obedience to government is ascribed to a promise, is in Plato's
1 Crito, 51, Jowett's translation.
2 Locke, Treatise of Civil Government, II., § 73.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 199
Crito, where Socrates refuses to escape from prison because he
had tacitly promised to obey the laws. Thus he builds a Tory
consequence of passive obedience on a Whig foundation of the
original contract."
The whole tendency of the political philosophy of
Plato and Aristotle is to get beyond this artificial
way of regarding society, Neither of them uses the
phrase ''social organism," but both have the idea.
Plato's ideal of society is that all the citizens should
be members of one body.1 According to Aristotle,
the state is not a mere "alliance," which the indi
vidual can join or leave without being permanently
affected thereby.2 When Aristotle says : " Man is
by nature a political animal," he embodies a profound
meaning in the phrase. The individual separated
from his state is not the same as the individual
belonging to it. A hand severed from the body is a
hand only in a different sense ; 3 and so the individual
apart from the state is not the individual citizen—
the person with rights and duties.
Greek popular philosophy did not, however, remain
at the Aristotelian level. Epicurus had ceased to
believe in the moral significance of the city-state,
which in his time had ceased to be a reality ; and in
Epicurus we find a return to individualism and the
contract theory. Civil society is an association into
which men enter to avoid pains. Justice arises from
a contract "neither to injure nor to be injured,"
as in the Sophistic theory represented by Glaucon.4
1 Republic, 462. 2 p0utics^ in. 9, § ii.
3 Ibid., I. 2, § 13. * Diog. Laert., X., § 150.
2OO THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
II.
In the earlier Christian centuries the strictly ecclesi
astical mind regarded all civil society as a consequence
of the fall of man, Sin brought government into the
world ; * Cain and Nimrod were its founders. Philo
sophically regarded, this is the equivalent of the
modern anarchist's opinion that government is an
evil, at the best a necessary evil. But from the
thirteenth century onwards the political philosophy
of the middle ages was leavened by a wholesome
element of worldly wisdom, introduced through the
influence of Aristotle's Politics. That " man is by
nature a political animal," we might almost say, be
came a dogma ; and consequently the Sophistic and
Epicurean theory finds a place neither in the De
Regimine Principum of Thomas Aquinas and his
followers2 nor in the De Monarchist, of Dante, —
neither among the champions of the ecclesiastical
nor among the defenders of the imperial power.
But in the popular consciousness of the middle ages
and among the writers on the ecclesiastical side there
grew up that particular form of the contract theory
which has fixed itself most prominently in the minds
of ordinary men and of politicians struggling with
despotism — the idea of a contract between govern-
1 Cf. St. Gregory, quoted by Suarez, De Leg., III. c. i.
2 ^Egidius Romanus in his De Reg. Princ.^ III. i. c. 6, recognises
agreement (concordid) as one form of the origin of the state,
growth from the family being the " more natural " form ; but this
is not the social contract theory.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 2OI
ment and people.1 The Bible and Aristotle supplied
the intellectual food of mediaeval thinkers. Aristotle,
as we have just seen, gave no encouragement to the
contract theory ; but the same cannot be said of the
Old Testament.
" So all the elders of Israel came to the King to Hebron ; and
King David made a covenant with them in Hebron before the
Lord; and they anointed David King over Israel."2
Such passages as this furnished a formula under
which the mutual obligations of ruler and subject
could conveniently be thought of, and under which
the responsibility of kings, not only to God but
to their subjects, could be asserted and maintained.
The Old Testament supplied the mediaeval eccle
siastics, as it did the Puritans afterwards, with a
corrective to the doctrine of submission to " the
powers that be," which had come down from the
early Christians who lived under the irresistible
despotism of the Caesars.
Furthermore, in the middle ages men were more
prone than at any other time to think in terms of
the Roman conception of a " contract quasi ex
consensu." 3 The idea of contract4 is the most
important of the contributions to the world's
1 For this cf. Th. Aq., De Reg., I. c. 6., where the word "pac-
tum" is used to express the relation between a constitutional
king and his people.
2 2 Samuel v. 3.
3 Cf. Maine, Ancient Law, pp. 343 et seq.
4 I mean, of course, the idea as carefully thought out. In one
sense, wherever there have been human beings there have been
2O2 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
thinking made by Roman Law. A feudal com
munity differs from a true archaic community (such
as a Celtic clan) just through this element of contract
added to barbaric custom.1 The formula according
to which the nobles of Aragon are said to have
elected their king, even if it be not authentic, re
presents at least the principle, in an extreme form,
of feudal monarchy. " We who are as good as you
choose you for our king and lord, provided that
you observe our laws and privileges ; and if not,
not."2
"Though from the twelfth century [says Hallam] the principle of
hereditary succession to the throne superseded in Aragon as well
as Castile the original right of choosing a sovereign within the
royal family, it was still founded upon one more sacred and funda
mental, that of compact. No King of Aragon was entitled to
assume that name until he had taken a coronation oath, ad
ministered by the justiciary at Saragossa, to observe the laws
and liberties of the realm.3
Mr. R. L. Poole in his Illustrations of Medieval
Thought (page 232) quotes a very interesting
passage from a letter written by Manegold, a priest
of Lutterbach in Alsatia, in defence of Pope Gregory
VIL:
contracts ; but it is with the Romans that " contract " becomes a
conspicuous " category " of thought.
1 Maine, Ancient Law, pp. 364, 365. Cf. Hallam, Middle
Ages, chap. ii. pt. 2., vol i. p. 187, ed. 1878.
2 Robertson, Charles V., " View of the Progress of Society,
etc.," note xxxii. ; Hallam, Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 43.
3 Middle Ages, II. 45.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 203
" King is not a name of nature but a title of office : nor does
the people exalt him so high above it in order to give him the
free power of playing the tyrant in its midst, but to defend him
from tyranny. So soon as he begins to act the tyrant, is it not
plain that he falls from the dignity granted to him ? since it is
evident that he has first broken that contract by virtue of which
he was appointed. If one should engage a man for a fair wage
to tend swine, and he find means not to tend but to steal them,
would one not remove him from his charge ? . . Since no
one can create himself emperor or king, the people elevates a
certain one person over itself to this end, that he govern and
rule it according to the principle of righteous government ; but
if in any wise he transgress the contract by virtue of which he
is chosen, he absolves the people from the obligation of submis
sion, because he has first broken faith with it."
This mediaeval form of the contract theory is that
which appears in works of the sixteenth century
which were written in defence of the principle that
people might depose tyrannical kings, and it finds
its way into public and official documents. Thus—
" the Scots, in justification of their deposing Queen Mary, sent
ambassadors to Queen Elizabeth, and in a written declaration
alleged, that they had used towards her more lenity than she
deserved ; that their ancestors had heretofore punished their kings
by death or banishment ; that the Scots were a free nation, made
king whom they freely chose, and with the same freedom un
kinged him, if they saw cause, by right of ancient laws and
ceremonies yet remaining, and old customs yet among the High
landers in choosing the head of their clans or families ; all which,
with many other arguments, bore witness that regal power was
nothing else but a mutual covenant or stipulation between king
and people."
I quote these words from Milton's Tenure of
Kings and Magistrates. Buchanan, in his dialogue
204 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
De Jure Regni apud Scotos and in the speech which,
in his History, he puts into the mouth of the Re
gent Morton, maintains the theory of the Scottish
monarchy to which Milton here refers. In fact
Milton follows the very words of Buchanan. The
coins stamped at the coronation of the infant King
James VI., in 1570, bear on the reverse a drawn
dagger and the motto PRO ME si MEREOR IN ME — a
grim version of the theory of contract.1 The phrase
is said to have been used by Trajan when handing a
sword to the prefect of the Praetorian guard. This
story is expressly alluded to in Buchanan's version
of Morton's speech. And we may perhaps conjec
ture that Buchanan had something to do with the
use of it as a motto on the coins of the Stuart king,
who, being only four years of age, was not yet able
to give distinct utterance to his own opinions about
government. The True Law of Free Monarchies,
which James afterwards wrote in answer to the
revolutionary theories of his old tutor, contains very
different doctrine. But even King James himself
used the phraseology of the contract theory in ad
dressing the English Parliament of 1609 :
" The king binds himself by a double oath to the observation of
the fundamental laws of his kingdom. Tacitly, as by being a
king, and so bound to protect as well the people as the laws of
his kingdom, and expressly by his oath at his coronation ; so as
every just king, in a settled kingdom, is bound to observe that
paction made to his people by his laws, in framing his government
1 Becoming even more grim in the hands of Milton (Tenure
of Kings and Magistrates)^ who omits the words "Pro me."
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 205
agreeable thereunto, according to that paction which God made
with Noah after the deluge. . . . And therefore a king
governing in a settled kingdom leaves to be a king and degene
rates into a tyrant as soon as he leaves off to rule according to
his laws." i
This phraseology about compact faded from royal
and royalist lips before those extreme assertions
about " divine right " and the duty of non-resistance,
which the Anglican bishops too often made the most
prominent part of their religion. But the words came
back as a Nemesis upon the last of the Stuart
kings, when the Convention Parliament of 1688
declared that James had " endeavoured to subvert
the constitution of the kingdom by breaking the
original contract between king and people."
III.
Locke published his Treatise of Civil Govern
ment in defence of the principles of the revolution
of 1688, and it is very commonly believed that he
maintained this theory of a contract between king
and people. Locke is not a lucid writer, and
misunderstandings of his theory of political obliga
tion, as of his theory of knowledge, are excusable.
Thus Josiah Tucker, Dean of Gloucester,2 criticises
Locke for alleging that there must be an actual
contract between king and people. The Dean
admits, however, that there is a " quasi-contract,"
1 Quoted by Locke, Treatise of Civil Government^ II., § 200.
* In his Treatise concerning Civil Government (London, 1781),
p. 142.
2O6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
because government is to be considered a " trust"
to be exercised in the interests of the governed.
But this is Locke's very phrase.1 As we have seen,
Locke quotes King James I. about the "paction"
between king and people ; but the original compact
on which he basis civil government is, just as with
Hobbes and with Rousseau, a compact between
individual and individual, not between king (or
whatever else may be the government) and people.
"Whosoever [he says] out of a state of nature unite into a
community must be understood to give up all the power necessary
to the ends for which they unite into society, to the majority of
the community, unless they expressly agreed in any number
greater than the majority. And this is done by barely agreeing
to unite into one political society, which is all the compact that is,
or needs be, between the individuals that enter into or make
up a commonwealth." 2
Civil society is, in Locke's view, " incorporated "
for a certain purpose, viz. to secure the rights of the
individual better than they can be secured in a state
of nature. This is the " original compact." Society,
thus formed, retains always a supreme power.3 It
1 See Treatise of Civil Government, II., §§ 136, 142, 156. In
§ 149 he speaks of "the legislative" as "being only a fiduciary
power to act for certain ends."
2 Treatise of Civil Government, II., § 99. In a footnote in the
English translation of Bluntschli's Theory of the State (Oxford,
1885), p. 276 — a footnote for which I am responsible — I followed
the usual fashion of contrasting Locke and Rousseau. Further
study of Locke has convinced me that there is no essential dif
ference between them in this matter. The error has been avoided
in the second edition (1892) : see p. 294.
3 Treatise of Civil Government, II., § 149.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 2O7
does not treat with king, or other form of govern
ment, as one of two contracting parties : it entrusts
the work of government (legislative, executive,
judicial) to this or that person or persons ; and if
such person or persons fail to do their work to the
satisfaction of the whole body of the people (which,
as Locke has explained, means the majority), they
may be dismissed and others put in place of them.
Such an act of "revolution" may be inexpedient,
but the people always retains its " supreme power."
This seems to me a perfectly fair statement of what
is most essential in Locke's theory ; and it will be
obvious that it is identical with what is most essential
in Rousseau's. Rousseau's " inalienable sovereignty
of the people" is just Locke's "supreme power that
[in spite of the institution of a form of government]
remains still in the people." Rousseau says explicit
ly that the institution of government is not a con
tract : the social contract by which the sovereign
people is constituted excludes every other.1 The
institution of a government results from a law made
by the sovereign that there shall be a government
of such and such a form, and from an act of the
sovereign nominating certain persons to fill the
various magistracies thus created.2 What the sove
reign people has done it can alter if it sees fit.
Rousseau ascribes to his "sovereign," which can
only consist of all, the same attributes that Hobbes
had bestowed on his, which might consist of one,
some, or all — though Hobbes's personal preference
1 Contrat Social, III. 16. 2 Ibid., 17.
2O8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
was obviously for one. But though, as Mr. John
Morley has put it, Rousseau has the " temper" of
Hobbes — his clear, if somewhat narrow, logical
intellect — he has done nothing more than apply this
" temper" to the political principles of Locke. It
is the custom of English writers to draw a contrast
between Locke and Rousseau. There is a contrast
between their styles, between their temperaments
and between the temperaments of the audiences
they addressed. But if we are considering simply
their theories of the basis of political society and
the grounds of political obligation, and their views
about the abstract Tightness of revolution, there is
no difference between them. And Rousseau has the
advantage over Locke, that he avoids altogether
the attempt to make out an historical justification for
the idea of social contract.1
Thus the political philosophers of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, who held the social con
tract theory, held it in the same form as did Epi
curus and certain Greek Sophists before him. The
position maintained by Socrates in the Crito might
seem more comparable with the mediaeval and popu
lar theory of a contract between government and
people ; but the contract Socrates is thinking of is
a contract between the individual citizen, on the one
hand, and all the citizens, on the other — a conception
which has more affinity with the views of Rousseau
than with the ideas of feudalism.2 Greek political
1 Contrat Social, I. i.
2 When Rousseau szys (Contrat Social, II. 6) : " Tout gouverne-
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 2OQ
theory was the product of republican institutions, in
which the free citizen felt himself a part of the
sovereign body and not a mere subject. In feudal
Europe every man found himself somewhere in a
scale of subordination ; he was some one's " man."
This scale mounted up through nobles and kings
to emperor and pope ; and emperor and pope were
thought of as holding directly of God, — or else the
emperor of the pope, and the pope alone directly of
God. But allegiance rested everywhere, as we have
seen, on mutual obligation.1 Even the relation of
God to man was thought of in terms of contract.
God had bound Himself to man and man to Himself
by covenants and solemn promises. The Hebrew
idea of covenant was supplemented by the Roman
legal idea of contract, and the distinctive theology of
the Western Church was the consequence.2
The political philosophers of the seventeenth cen
tury did not borrow their theories directly from the
Greeks. How then did their view of the original
contract come to differ from the mediaeval, which had
ment legitime est republicain," he only means the same thing
which Aristotle expresses when he denies that a tyranny is a "con
stitution " at all. In the opinion of both a king, as distinct from
a tyrant, is subordinate to the law. In Rousseau's language, he is
the minister of the sovereign people ; for them he governs and
from them his power comes.
1 In 1683 the University of Oxford condemned, along with
other subversive opinions, the doctrine that there is a mutual con
tract between a prince and his people. A contract with all the
obligation on the side of the people would have been no political
heresy. Cf. Cooke, History of Party, I. 346 seq.
2 Cf. Maine, Ancient Law, pp. 365 et seq.
D. H. T
2IO THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
become the popular, view ? The existence of this
difference has seldom been clearly pointed out,1 and so
far as I know, the cause of it has never been fully
explained. Attention has been called to the subject
in a very interesting article by M. Charles Borgeaud
in the Annales de I E cole Libre des Sciences Poli-
tiques of April, 1890. He contrasts the Biblical
and mediaeval form of the theory which we find in
the Vindicice contra Tyrannos of "Junius Brutus"
(Languet or Duplessis Mornay ?) and in the writings
of Buchanan and others, with the theory of a contract
between individuals which we find in Rousseau, but
before him in Locke, in Hobbes and in Hooker.
The last-named is apparently the first political writer
1 It has, indeed, been proposed by some recent writers to dis
tinguish the "political contract " between government and people
from the "social compact " by which a political society is formed.
The distinction is, as I am endeavouring to show, of primary im
portance ; but I do not think we gain anything by attempting
nowadays to distinguish " contract" and "compact " in discussing
the historical aspects of the theory. It may be true, as Professor
Clark suggests (Practical Jurisprudence, p. 144), that the word
" compact " was preferred by some writers as seeming to avoid
the absurd idea that the agreement in question was legally en
forceable. But since Hobbes and Rousseau both use the term
" contract " for the same agreement which Locke calls " compact,"
it only introduces confusion to attempt to keep up a distinction be
tween these terms. Furthermore, as I point out, neither Hobbes
nor Locke nor Rousseau allows that the relation between govern
ment and people is one of " contract," while on the other hand
the English Convention Parliament of 1688 speaks of "the
original contract between king and people." It seems to me,
therefore, that an historical solution, and not a mere distinction
in words, is necessary to clear up the confusion.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 211
after the Greeks in whom this form of the theory
can be traced.
"Two foundations there are [says Hooker] which bear up public
societies : the one, a natural inclination whereby all men desire
sociable life and fellowship ; the other, an order expressly or
secretly agreed upon touching the manner of their union in living
together. ... To take away all such mutual grievances, injuries
and wrongs [sc. as prevailed when there were no civil societies],
there was no way but only by growing into composition and agree
ment amongst themselves, by ordaining some kind of government
public, and by yielding themselves subject thereunto ; that unto
whom they granted authority to rule and govern, by them the
peace, tranquillity and happy estate of the rest might be procured."1
In the first of these propositions Hooker was pro
bably not conscious of going beyond Aristotle, who
in the Politics 2 recognises the work of the maker of
the state ("the legislator") in addition to the natural
impulse of mankind towards political society. But
he has laid stress on the element of consent or agree
ment in a way which suggests the theories of Hobbes
and Locke. Hooker probably had not particularly
in mind the mediaeval theories of a compact between
ruler and subject, but was unconsciously influenced
by the traditional habit of thinking about govern
ment under the formula of contract. Again, holding
that the church, i.e. society in its religious aspect,
has agreed upon its form of government, he naturally
conceived of the state as fashioned in the same way.
Further, Hooker inherited from the ecclesiastical
politicians of the middle ages the doctrine of " the
sovereignty of the people," i.e. the doctrine that
1 Ecclesiastical Polity, L, c. 10. 2 I. 2, § 15.
212 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
kings and other rulers derive their power from the
people. Thomas Aquinas (quoted by the late Dean
Church in a note on Hooker) lays it down that " to
order anything for the common good belongs either to
the whole multitude or to some one acting in place
of the whole multitude."1 In adopting such ideas
Hooker uses the words " consent," ''agreement,"
etc., and thus implicitly unites the two distinct theories
that political society is based upon a contract and
that the people is sovereign — the theories held by
Locke and formulated with startling clearness by
Rousseau. Hooker, we may say, is the medium
through whom the mediaeval doctrine of the sove
reignty of the people reaches Locke; but he transmits
it in words which easily suggest the phraseology of
contract. Locke, it is to be observed, purposely
bases his political thinking upon Hooker, because
Hooker was an authority acceptable to the Anglican
Tories against whom Locke had to argue.
But quite apart from the quiet meditations of
Hooker, circumstances were already making the
idea of a compact between individual and individual
familiar to the minds of many men in the early
seventeenth century. The Scottish Covenant was
a solemn pact made " before God, His angels and the
world" by "the noblemen, barons, gentlemen, bur
gesses, ministers and commons," i.e. by the Scottish
people in their various ranks and stations ; it was a
covenant in which the king might join, but it was
not a pact between king and people. The nobility
1 Summa, i, 2, qu. 90, art. 3.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 213
and gentry of Scotland, says Mr. Gardiner,1 had
been in the habit of entering into ''bands" or obli
gations for mutual protection. In 1581 King James
had called on his loyal subjects to enter into such a
" band " when the country was threatened by a con
federacy of Catholic noblemen. This was the basis
of the National Covenant of 1638. The absence of
a firm government in Scotland had driven men to
form compacts among themselves in order to escape
the evils of perpetual lawlessness and warfare. It
was an easy step from this actual condition to the
theory that contract is universally the means by
which men pass from the non-social state into that
of orderly and peaceful society. The comparative
powerlessness of the Scottish kings had allowed the
mediaeval theory, which based kingly authority on
contract, to maintain itself ; and the turbulence of
the Scottish nobility was thus likewise one main
source of the more revolutionary theory, which based
all society on contract between man and man.
But by far the clearest case of what seemed the
actual formation of a political society by a mutual
agreement was the action of the emigrants on board
the Mayflower, when they found themselves off ''the
northern parts of Virginia," where there was no
existing government under whose authority they
would come. Although formally acknowledging
themselves " the loyal subjects of our dread sove
reign King James," for all the practical and immedi
ate purposes of government they think of themselves
1 History of England^ 1603-1640, VIII. 329.
214 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [VII.
as constituting a new political society. In the
familiar and famous words they declare, that " we
do solemnly and mutually, in the presence of God
and of one another, covenant and combine ourselves
together into a civil body politic." It has become
a commonplace to speak of the social contract as
" unhistorical " ; but it must be admitted that it has
more justification of fact and of historical precedent
in the declaration of rights of an American state-
constitution than anywhere else in the world. When
Carlyle objects that Jean Jacques could not fix the
date of the social contract, it would at least be a
plausible retort to say that that date was the iith
of November, i62o.1
1 The influence of Calvinism, and especially of the " Inde
pendent " theory of church government, on the political ideas of
the seventeenth century, is traced in Prof. H. L. Osgood's recent
articles on "The Political Ideas of the Puritans" in the Political
Science Quarterly, March and June, 1891, as well as in the
articles by M. Charles Borgeaud, already referred to. (An Eng
lish translation of M. Borgeaud's articles is in preparation.)
Much light is thrown on the various political theories current at
the time by the publication of the discussions carried on in the
Parliamentary army in 1647, preserved in the Clarke Papers,
which Mr. C. H. Firth has just edited for the Camden Society.
While Cromwell speaks of the king being " king by contract,"
Mr. Pettus gives a version of the contract theory identical with
that afterwards maintained by Locke. Men were naturally free,
but they "agreed to come into some form of government that
they who were chosen might preserve property" (p. 312). Rain-
borow and Wildman maintain that " all government is in the free
consent of the governed." In contrast with them Cromwell and
Ireton manifest toward theories of abstract rights a conservative
distrust with which Burke might have sympathised.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 215
While practical needs were driving some men to
base orderly government • on mutual agreement,
political theory was, in the minds of those friendly
to liberty, moving in the same direction. Grotius,
living under republican institutions, expresses the
doctrine of a social compact in terms which seem to
recognise both the forms of the theory.
" Since it is conformable to natural law to observe contracts
\stare pactis\ . . . civil rights were derived from this source,
mutual compact. For those who had joined any community or put
themselves in subjection to any man or men, those either expressly
promised or from the nature of the case must have been under
stood to promise tacitly, that they would conform to that which
either the majority of the community or those to whom the power
was assigned should determine." l
This passage is rather an adaptation of the medi
aeval theory to suit the case of republics as well as
monarchies, than a clear recognition of the contract
between individual and individual. But in the great
literary champion of English liberty the theory of
Locke and Rousseau is clearly expressed. We have
already seen that Milton quotes Buchanan's account
of the contractual character of the Scottish monarchy,
but Milton's own theory is expounded earlier in his
treatise :
" No man who knows aught can be so stupid to deny that all
men naturally were born free, being the image and resemblance of
God Himself, and were, by privilege above all creatures, born to
command and not to obey ; and that they lived so, till from the
1 Dejure Belli et Pads (1625), Proleg. § 15, Whe well's trans-
ation.
2 1 6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
root of Adam's transgression falling among themselves to do
wrong and violence, and foreseeing that such courses must needs
tend to the destruction of them all, they agreed by common
league to bind each other from mutual injury and jointly to de
fend themselves against any that gave disturbance or opposition
to such agreement. . . . The power of kings and magistrates is
only derivative, transferred and committed to them in trust from
the people to the common good of them all, to whom the power
yet remains fundamentally, and cannot be taken from them with
out a violation of their natural birthright." l
This is precisely Locke's theory ; expressed in
Milton's impassioned language, it reveals its iden
tity with the theory of Rousseau. Milton, like
Locke, gives the theory a setting of Biblical history.
Remove this setting, and we have the theory as it
appears in Rousseau.
The position of Hobbes becomes clearer if we
consider it in the light of what has been said. With
peculiar ingenuity he took the theory that had so
often served to justify resistance and applied it in
such a way as to make it the support of " passive
obedience "- —nay, of active obedience in almost
every case— to " the powers that be." Hobbes did
this by explicitly denying the possibility of any
" covenant " between king and subject, or of any
covenant between man and God (except through
the mediation of the sovereign, who is God's lieu
tenant), and by maintaining that the covenant which
constitutes civil society is a covenant of every man
with every man.2 According to Hobbes men can-
1 For the term " birthright " in this connection, cf. Clarke
Papers, pp. lx., Ixi., 322-325.
3 Leviathan, c. 18.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 21J
not pass from the state of nature, which is a state of
war of all against all, into the state of orderly society
except by handing over their natural rights (with
what seems the inconsistent exception of the right to
self-preservation *) to a sovereign — one, some or all.
The sovereign is not a party to the contract, but
is created by it. Hence to resist the sovereign
is to return to the state of anarchy. If we translate
Hobbes's practical thought out of the phraseology
of the contract theory, it becomes simply this : Any
evils are better than the risk of anarchy. Locke
thought that continued misgovernment might be
worse than anarchy, " the inconvenience being all as
great and as near, but the remedy farther off and
more difficult."2
The acutest criticism upon Hobbes is that impli
citly passed on him by his great contemporary,
Spinoza. Spinoza leaves alone the fiction of con
tract, but, working with Hobbes's conception of
natural right as simply equivalent to might, argues
that the right of the sovereign is also simply equiva
lent to his might.3 This theory of government,
however inadequate it may be, is at least self-con
sistent. On Hobbes's theory, whence comes the
obligation to abide by the terms of the social con-
1 See Leviathan, c. 14. Many Englishmen of Hobbes's time
would have been disposed to argue : " You take my life, if you do
take the means whereby I live " ; and others did think that the
right of worshipping God after what they thought the true fashion
was more precious than life itself.
2 Treatise of Civil Government, II., § 225.
3 Epistle 50.
2l8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
tract ? This contract is made not in the civil state
but in the state of nature, and is therefore binding
only by the law of nature.1 Hobbes would probably
have defended his theory by arguing that the natural
right of self-preservation, which he holds is inalien
able — i.e. the natural instinct to strive for self-preser
vation — constitutes a sufficient obligation to adhere
to the terms of the social contract. It might be to
a person of Hobbes's own temperament ; but how
could such an answer be applicable to any one who
argued, like Locke, that continued misgovernment
might be a worse evil than anarchy itself ?
Again, supposing a successful revolution to take
place and a new government to be established, strong
enough to maintain itself and to preserve that peace
for which Hobbes cared above everything, what is
a conscientious Hobbist to do ? The new sove
reign (one, some or all) is not the sovereign to whom
every individual was previously supposed to have
handed over his rights irrevocably, and yet this new
sovereign is fulfilling the function for which alone
men have given up their natural rights. The sup
position was for Hobbes himself not altogether an
imaginary one ; and perhaps Hobbes was not acting
inconsistently with his theories in submitting to the
Council of State in 1651, in order to come to
London and get his Leviathan published under a
government sufficiently tolerant to allow its publi
cation, and sufficiently strong to protect the author.
The average royalist showed a wise instinct in re-
1 Cf. T. H. Green, Philosophical Works, II., p. 370.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 2IQ
garding as a very suspicious ally the intellectual
ancestor of both Rousseau and Bentham.1
Locke nowhere expressly denies that there is a
contract between king and people, but, as I have
shown, prefers to use the same phraseology as Milton
and to speak of the king as having power intrusted
to him by the always sovereign people. Locke's
chief difference from Hobbes lies in his insisting that
the dissolution of a government is not the same thing
as the dissolution of a society.2 A "politic society "
is constituted by the original compact, and the ap
pointment of this or that set of persons to do the
business of government is a subsequent matter. As
I have already pointed out, this theory is identical
with that of Rousseau. Rousseau, like Hobbes,
expressly denies that there is any contract between
ruler and people. Hobbes does so in order to repel
the claims of the aggrieved subject. Rousseau does
so in order to maintain the supremacy of the sove
reign people. One particular form of Hobbes's
" sovereign " is the only one that Rousseau allows—
the sovereignty of all. Hobbes passes lightly over
this form, because he thinks of the sovereign as iden
tical with the government. Rousseau's sovereign
is a power perpetually behind every form of govern
ment. Hobbes regards civil society as only possible
1 Mr. C. H. Firth has called my attention to a passage in Clar
endon's Survey of the Leviathan (1676), p. 92, in which Clarendon
alleges that " Mr. Hobbes his book " and still more his conver
sation induced many persons to submit to Cromwell as to their
legitimate sovereign.
'2 Treatise of Government, II., § 211.
22O THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
when the individual surrenders his natural rights.
In the less mechanical thinking of Rousseau the
individual by the social contract gains for himself the
protection of the whole force of the community and
yet obeys only himself (i.e., his "common self") and
remains as free as before.1 When Rousseau goes on
to argue as if the sovereign people could only act in
a mass assembly, he forgets his own distinction
between the volontd gtntrale and the volontd de toiis,
and fails to grasp the full meaning of his own for
mula ; for in the words in which he enunciates the
nature of the social pact, he has risen, without fully
knowing it, to the conception of society as organic ;
and in the idea of a "common self" higher than
the individual self, he has anticipated the teaching of
German idealism, or perhaps I should rather say, he
has adopted a practical principle which requires for
its explanation a profounder philosophy than his age
had as yet provided.
For the purposes of political philosophy the his
tory of the social contract theory ends with Rous
seau. Kant and Fichte only repeat the theory in
Rousseau's form, with a rather more complete con
sciousness of what it implies.
" The act [says Kant] by which a people is represented as con
stituting itself into a state, is termed the original contract. This
is properly only an outward mode of representing the idea by
which the rightfulness of the process of organising the constitution
may be made conceivable. According to this representation, all
and each of the people give up their external freedom in order to
1 Contrat Social, I. 6.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 221
receive it immediately again as members of a commonwealth.
The commonwealth is the people viewed as united altogether into a
state. And thus it is not to be said that the individual in the state
has sacrificed a part of his inborn external freedom for a particular
purpose ; but he has abandoned his wild lawless freedom wholly,
in order to find all his proper freedom again entire and undimin-
ished, but in the form of a regulated order of dependence, that
is, in a civil state, regulated by laws of right. This relation of de
pendence thus arises out of his own regulative law-giving will." *
In this passage it will be seen that Kant agrees with
Rousseau and differs from Locke in recognising that
the theory of the original contract is not an historical
account of how political society grew up, but a logical
analysis of the basis on which political society rests.
Hobbes, as has been pointed out by Prof. Croom
Robertson,2 by calling "natural" the kind of society
that is formed by acquisition, "not obscurely sug
gests that the institutive is first only in the logical,
not in the historical, order." Kant, however, takes
pains to bring out this unhistorical character of the
theory more clearly than any of his predecessors.
The "original contract," he says (in his essay On
the saying that a thing may be right in theory, but
worthless in practice)—
" is merely an idea of reason ; but it has undoubtedly a practical
reality. For it ought to bind every legislator by the condition
that he shall enact such laws as might have arisen from the united
will of the people ; and it will likewise be binding upon every sub-
1 Kant, Rechtslehre, Part ii., § 47 (Werke, IX., p. 161, Ed.
Rosenkranz), Mr. W. Hastie's translation (Kanfs Philosophy of
Law\ pp. 169, 170.
2 Hobbes, p. 145.
222 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
ject, in so far as he will be a citizen, so that he shall regard the
law as if he had consented to it of his own will." 1
Thus Kant explicitly recognises that the conception
of contract is a standard by which to judge institu
tions, not an account of the manner in which they
came into existence. Kant may seem to avoid the
assertion of the sovereignty of the people which is
prominent in Rousseau ; but in his Zum ewigen
Frieden he lays down, just as Rousseau does, that
" the republican constitution is the only one which
arises out of the idea of the original compact upon
which all the rightful legislation of a people is
founded." 2
Fichte in his Grundlage des Natitrrechts (1796)
makes the social contract theory in Rousseau's form
solve the contradiction between the "thesis" that
" whatever does not violate the rights of another
each person has the right to do, each person having
the right to judge for himself what is the limit of his
free action "- —the usual assumption of " individual
ists"-— and the antithesis "that each person must
utterly and unconditionally transfer all his power and
judgment to a third party, if a legal relation between
free persons is to be possible" — which is Hobbes's
theory.3 Fichte does not mention either Hobbes
or Rousseau in this passage ; but his own theory
1 Werke, (Ed. Rosenkranz), VII., p. 209. Mr. Hastie's transla
tion under title Kanfs Principles of Politics, p. 46.
2 Werke, VII., p. 241. Mr. Hastie's Kanfs Principles of
Politics, p. 89.
3 Werke, III., p. 101. Kroeger's transl., Science of Rights, p. 149.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 223
does not in any essential point differ from that of the
latter, to whom he refers elsewhere. His "will which
is an infallible power, but only when in conformity
with the will of the law," is identical with Rousseau's
volontt gtntrak, which cannot err.1 Fichte prepares
the way for Hegel ; but Hegel's recognition of the
element of truth in Rousseau's theory can be most
conveniently referred to after we have considered
the criticism and decline of the theory.
IV.
The most important and the most instructive criti
cism passed upon the social contract theory is that
of Hume ; for Hume's thinking belongs to the same
type as that of Locke. Already in his Treatise of
Human Nature (i74o)2 Hume had assailed the
theory, and his criticisms are repeated in his essay
Of the Original Contract (1752). Rousseau's
Contrat Social did not appear till 1762. But his
tory is not the same thing as chronology ; and in
tracing the growth of ideas we sometimes find that
the criticism of an opinion has begun even before
the opinion has reached its fullest and completest ex
pression. Hume does not content himself, like
many later opponents of the theory, with urging that
society did not as a matter of fact originate in con
tract — an argument which we have seen would be
valid against Locke, but not against Hobbes, Rous-
1 Contrat Social, II. 3.
2 The "First Part" was published in 1739; the "Second
Part," which deals with ethics and politics, in the following year.
224 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
seau or Kant. Hume does not neglect the historical
argument, and what he says about the function of
war in the making of nations is in entire accordance
with the conclusions of recent sociology. But the
more valuable part of Hume's criticism consists in
his bringing out the logical inconsistency in a theory
which bases allegiance upon promise. Why are we
bound to keep our promises ? The answer must
be : Because otherwise society would not hold to
gether. But does not this same answer explain the
need of obedience to the law ? The obligation to
keep promises must be based either on the law of an
already formed society or simply on force.
Bentham, in his Fragment on Government, refers
approvingly to Hume's " demolition " of the
" chimera";1 but Bentham himself treats the con
tract theory only in its "mediaeval" and popular
form of contract between king and people. When
asked "to open that page of history in which the
solemnisation of this important contract was re
corded," the lawyers confess that it is a fiction. But
Bentham is impatient of fictions. "I bid adieu to
the original contract ; and I left it to those to amuse
themselves with this rattle, who could think they
needed it."
History does not refute a theory which is un-
historical. But the growth of the historical spirit
and the application of the historical method to the
study of institutions diminish our appreciation of a
way of representing facts which jars at every mo-
1 The metaphors are Bentham's ; see chap, i., § 36.
VII.] THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. 225
ment with ideas that have become commonplaces
to us, however unfamiliar to most political thinkers
in the last century. The method of Montesquieu
predominates over the method of Rousseau, and Sir
Henry Maine and others have addressed ears
already prepared to accept their arguments.
There is a passage in Burke' s Reflections on the
Revolution in France, in which he uses the phrase
ology of the contract theory in order to rise above
it to the conception of society as an organic
growth :
" Society is indeed a contract. Subordinate contracts for objects
of mere occasional interest may be dissolved at pleasure ; but the
state ought not to be considered as nothing better than a partner
ship agreement in a trade of pepper and coffee, calico or tobacco,
or some other such low concern, to be taken up for a little tem
porary interest, and to be dissolved by the fancy of the parties.
It is to be looked on with other reverence ; because it is not a
partnership in things subservient only to the gross animal exist
ence of a temporary and perishable nature. It is a partnership
in all science} a partnership in all art; a partnership in every
virtue and in all perfection. As the ends of such a partnership
cannot be obtained in many generations, it becomes a partnership
not only between those who are living, but between those who
are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born."
The idea of organic growth, which is here only
-suggested, has now become one of the common
places about society. Wherever, indeed, there are
federal institutions the phraseology of the contract
theory is more natural j1 and in such institutions we
1 Through the kindness of the editors of the Political Science
Quarterly I have been enabled to see an interesting dissertation
by Mr. J. F. Fenton, The Theory of the Social Compact and its
D. H. Q
226 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY. [vil.
find the political justification of the theory as repre
senting that side of the truth about human society
which the historical antiquarian and the evolutionary
sociologist are apt to ignore. Hegel, in his Philo
sophic des Rechts? recognises fully the merit of
Rousseau's theory in making will (consent) the
principle of the state. A merely historical account
of what has been in the past is no sufficient philo
sophical explanation of a political society. M. Alfred
Fouillee2 has endeavoured to express the truth of
both ways of regarding society by saying that the
highest form of it must be an " organisme con-
tractuel" — a formula that may perhaps gain more
general acceptance than anything expressed in the
phraseology of German idealism. The time has
surely come when we can be just to Montesquieu
and Burke without being unjust to Locke and
Rousseau.
Influence upon the American Revolution. The chief matter in
which I should be inclined to disagree with Mr. Fenton is in
what concerns the distinction between Locke and Rousseau.
Locke, as I have pointed out, does not speak of " a contract
between the people and an hereditary line of kings," and his
theory is on the whole identical with " the rabid doctrines of
Rousseau."
1 § 258. 2 In his Science Sociale Contemporaine.
VIII.
ON THE CONCEPTION OF
SOVEREIGNTY.1
AUSTIN'S famous definition of sovereignty is ex
pressed by him in the following sentence :
" If a determinate human superior, not in a habit of obedience
to a like superior, receive habitual obedience from the bulk of
a given society, that determinate superior is sovereign in that
society, and the society (including the superior) is a society
political and independent." — Lectures on Jurisprudence, Lecture
VI., vol. i. p. 226 (Edit. 4, 1879).
The definition of a positive law, which is the
counterpart of the definition of sovereignty, is given
toward the close of the same prolonged "lecture " :
" Every positive law (or every law simply and strictly so called)
is set, directly or circuitously, by a sovereign individual or body,
to a member or members of the independent political society
wherein its author is supreme." — Ibid., p. 339.
It is thus the fundamental assumption of the
English school of jurisprudence and of the English
writers on political science who follow in the path
1 Read originally before the Aristotelian Society (London),
February 3rd, 1890, and afterwards submitted to the "American
Academy of Political and Social Science" (November i3th, 1890),
and printed in their Annals, January, 1891. It is here reprinted
with considerable alterations.
228 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
marked out by Hobbes, Bentham, and Austin, that
in every political society sovereign power always
resides in certain determinate persons (one, few, or
many), and that all true laws (i.e. laws which the
law courts would recognise as such) may be regarded
as the commands of this sovereign. A consequence
of this conception of sovereignty is that the classi
fication of the forms of government becomes rigidly
precise, simple, and, it must be added, quite remote
from the ordinary use of language either among
practical politicians or among the most scientific of
political historians. The phrases " mixed govern
ment" and "limited monarchy" are abominations
to Austin and Cornewall Lewis, as much as the
facts supposed to correspond to these phrases were
to their great precursor, Hobbes. Hobbes had
political prejudices, as well as logical reasons, for his
antipathy. In the case of Austin the motive force
is the intense disgust provoked by that vagueness
and obscurity of Blackstone which had already
called forth Bentham's Fragment on Government.
Vague uses of the term "law "and traditional
laudations of mixed government and of the sur
passing perfection of the British Constitution in
evitably caused a reaction ; and the confused
prolixity of Blackstone must serve as the excuse
for the seemingly precise prolixity of Austin.
The Austinian jurisprudence, which, in spite of
Austin's German studies, is thoroughly English in
its antecedents (except in so far as we regard the
theories of Hobbes as due to the influence of Bodin),
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 22Q
has produced a great effect on English legal and
political thinking ; but outside of England and some
British colonies it has produced no effect whatever
— none certainly, in France or Germany or Italy ;
none in Scotland, nor, with very slight exceptions,
in the United States of America.1 Its dominant
authority in England has finally begun to be weak
ened by the introduction of the historical method
into the study of law — above all by the great work
done and the ideas suggested by the late Sir Henry
Maine. Sir Henry Maine has pointed out, that
throughout the greater part of the world and during
the greater part of human history there have been
no such sovereign legislating bodies as Austin sup
poses ; and that, where we might consider all the
conditions of sovereignty, according to Austin's
conception, to be found, as, for instance, in the case
of Runjeet Singh, the Sikh despot of the Punjaub,
such a sovereign ruler never made a single law in
Austin's sense, (Early History of Institutions, p.
380.) As Professor Clark puts it : " That the sove
reign makes, or sets, such rules in the first instance
is contrary alike to philology, history, and legal tra
dition, all of which indicate an element of original
approval or consent by the whole community."
(Practical Jurisprudence : A Comment on Austin,
pp. 167, 1 68.) "If we look at the history of all early
1 Cf. an article on " National Sovereignty," in the Political
Science Quarterly [New York] for June, 1890, by Mr. J. A.
Jameson, who mentions only two American writers as followers
of the " analytical jurists."
230 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill
societies," says Sir William Markby, who is not un
friendly to Austin (Elements of Law, edit. 2, p. 24),
" we find that the principal duty of the sovereign,
in time of peace, is not the making of law, but the
decision of law-suits." Law is older than sove
reignty ; primitive law is the custom of the tribe,
and the earliest type of sovereignty is exhibited,
apart from leadership in battle, in pronouncing
judgments, not in making laws. That one person
or a determinate body of persons should make laws
would be a profane and monstrous idea in the eyes
of the members of primitive societies. The legis
lative activity of the sovereign comes very late in
the process of political development ; and the great
historical interest of the writings of Bentham and
Austin is just that they are contemporary with, and
supply a theoretical justification for, the quickening
of legislative activity in England.
Historical considerations are, however, in them
selves no argument against the Austinian concep
tions of law and sovereignty — any more than it is
an argument against the social contract theory to
point out that the date of the original contract has
not been fixed by Jean Jacques. A perfectly
unhistorical theory may be useful as a means of
analysis. Hobbes supplied the principle according
to which the Austinian conception must be inter
preted. " The legislator is he (not by whose
authority the law was first made, but) by whose
authority it continues to be law " (quoted by Austin,
Jurisprudence, i. p. 337). Thus, where a rule of
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 23!
English common law has not been interfered with
by parliamentary statute, we may regard it as " set "
by Parliament, because Parliament could interfere
with it, should such interference be considered ex
pedient. What is permitted or suffered to continue
we may, by a little twisting of language, by one of
those fictions so dear to the conservative legal mind,
consider to be commanded. Of course, when we
extend this principle of interpretation from highly
developed political societies, where the sovereign
is constantly legislating, to more primitive societies,
where there is no legislative activity, the extreme
artificiality of the procedure is forced on our notice.
It becomes absurd to say that the Great King of
Persia at one time commanded the Jews to keep
the Sabbath, because he did not forbid them to do
so. The application of the historical method and
the genuine scientific study of the origins and
sources of law do not refute a professedly un-
historical theory, but they tend to weaken our sense
of its importance. And yet we must not allow the
glamour of the historical method to blind us to the
value of the analytic. As Professor Dicey reminds
us :
" The possible weakness of the historical method as applied to
the growth of institutions, is that it may induce men to think so
much of the way in which an institution has come to be what it
is, that they cease to consider with sufficient care what it is that
an institution has become." — The Law of the Constitution, pref.
to first edition.
But the value of the analytic method is not neces-
232 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
sarily the same thing with the value of the analytic
method as practised by Austin.
"The procedure of the analytical jurists," says Sir Henry
Maine (Early History of Institutions, pp. 360, 361), "is closely
analogous to that followed in mathematics and political economy.
It is strictly philosophical, but the practical value of all sciences
founded on abstractions depends on the relative importance of
the elements rejected and the elements retained in the process
of abstraction. Tried by this test, mathematical science is of
greatly more value than political economy, and both of them
than jurisprudence as conceived by the writers I am criticising."
This comparison between the English school of
jurisprudence and the characteristically English
school of political economy is admirable. If com
petition be perfectly unfettered by either law or
custom or the force of habit or the presence of
ordinary human feelings, if capital be absolutely-
transferable, and if (what is still more impossible)
labour be absolutely transferable, then the Ricardian
political economy would represent actual facts. But
with a sufficient number of " ifs," it would be pos
sible to write any number of scientific works, every
sentence in which might be as painfully and use
lessly true as the Proverbial Philosophy of Martin
Tupper.1
But is this method of abstraction inseparable from
an analysis of what is ? And is Maine right in
calling it "strictly philosophical " ? Aristotle would
1 Bagehot, in his Postulates of English Political Economy, com
pares the insularity of the Ricardian political economy and the
Austinian jurisprudence. Cf. above, p. 1 5 7 note.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 233
have objected that to be strictly philosophical we
must adapt our methods to the subject-matter of our
study, and that the methods available in mathe
matics are not applicable in the study of the science
of wealth and of the science of law, which are
branches of the great science of human society. If
we try to get strict accuracy and precision where the
subject-matter does not admit of it, we shall find
ourselves left with mere empty words and abstract
formulae which give us no insight into reality, al
though they may indeed be valuable as a means
of criticising the more confused and less conscious
abstractions of common talk or of so-called popular
philosophy. And, as a mere matter of terminology,
is it not rather the business of the " philosopher "
to correct the one-sided " abstractions " inevitable
in ordinary language and indispensable in the pro
cedure of the various special sciences ? At least,
we may reasonably expect from a philosophy of law,
and even from a science of jurisprudence, that it
shall have some applicability, if not to primitive
societies, at least to the states which the theorist
had before his eyes.
Now, this is the restricted claim made on behalf
of Austin by his apologists at the present day. As
Professor Holland puts it : " It is convenient to
recognise as laws only such rules as are enforced
by a sovereign political authority, although there are
states of society in which it is difficult to ascertain as
a fact what rules answer to this description." {Juris
prudence, edit. 2, p. 43.) Let us see, then, how the
234 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
Austinian conception may be applied to the British
Constitution. Here there is a noteworthy difference
between Austin and his follower, Sir George Corne-
o
wall Lewis. Austin finds the sovereign in the
United Kingdom in king, lords, and commons —
meaning by "commons" the electors of the House
of Commons. " Speaking accurately," he says
0- P- 253)> "tne members of the commons' house
are merely trustees for the body by which they
are elected and appointed ; and consequently, the
sovereignty always resides in the king and the peers,
with the electoral body of the commons." Lewis,
on the other hand, agrees with Blackstone that "the
sovereignty of the British Constitution is lodged in
the three branches of the Parliament" ( Use and Abuse
of Political Terms, ed. by Sir R. K. Wilson, p. 49),
i.e., in the King, the House of Lords, and the House
of Commons. As we are here expressly dealing
with a question of jurisprudence and not of history,
it would be idle to discuss the question sometimes
debated between lawyers and historians whether the
king is or is not a part of parliament. The his
torian would indeed find it difficult to write of the
political struggles of the seventeenth century, if he
might not follow ordinary usage and speak of par
liament as a body distinct from and excluding the
king. But the constitutional lawyer must be allowed
to retain the phraseology of Blackstone, and to
define parliament as including all the parties whose
assent is necessary in legislation, so that he can
speak accurately of " the sovereignty of parliament "
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OE SOVEREIGNTY. 235
(cf. Dicey, Law of the Constitution, ed. 3, p. 37).1
Lewis's editor, Sir R. K. Wilson, points out that
what Lewis himself has laid down as one of the
" marks of sovereignty," viz. " irresponsibility," is
most certainly to be found in the body of the electors
(Use and Abuse of Political Terms, p. 47, note).
" Irresponsibility " does certainly seem in a fuller
sense to belong to the elector than to the member
of Parliament. Neither is indeed legally responsible
for the way in which he uses his right of voting :
the " moral " responsibility of the member to his
constituents is forcibly brought home to him when
a dissolution is at hand, whereas no determinate
persons (unless it be landlords or employers who
" put on the screw ") force his responsibility on the
notice of the free and independent elector. There
is always a penalty in the former case, but not
always (fortunately) in the latter. But the other
1 The lawyer, moreover, as the late Mr. Freeman pointed out
to me, can claim in this matter to have on his side the original
meaning of the word " parliament " ; it is " a talking " between
the king and the wise men whom he has summoned to advise
him. On the question whether the king is a part of parliament,
see the translators' note in the second edition of Bluntschli's
Theory of the State (Engl. edit.), pp. 501, 502. As the British
Constitution has only been written in our colonial imitations or
adaptations of it, it is interesting to note that, whereas in the
written Constitution of the Dominion of Canada (The British
North America Act, 1867) Parliament is expressly denned as
consisting of " the Queen, an Upper House styled the Senate,
and the House of Commons," in Victoria (Australia), by colonial
legislation, the two houses are officially designated " The Parlia
ment of Victoria." (See E. Jenks, The Government of Victoria,
p. 236.)
236 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
mark of sovereignty laid down by Lewis is " ne
cessity of consent." On this his editor remarks :
" When the sheriff returns a member as duly elected,
is it not a public act to which the consent of the
electors is necessary " ? This seems a rather forced
application of the conception, compared with the
fact, on which Lewis insists, that the House of
Commons must consent to the passing of a law.
The electors need not consent in order that the
law should be sufficiently a true law to be enforced
by a law court. Thus, one of Lewis's " marks "
seems to suit the electors better, and the other, the
elected.
This difficulty, and the divergence of view be
tween Austin and Lewis, force on our attention the
fundamental confusion in Austin's apparently clear
and precise theory. Recent apologists of the
English school of jurisprudence have generally put
forward the defence that the sovereign body — in
Austin's sense — is the body behind which the lawyer
qua lawyer does not look. Mr. Frederic Harrison
has summed up Austin's analysis of sovereignty and
law in the two following propositions :
"I. The source of all positive law is that definite sovereign
authority which exists in every independent political community
and therein exercises de facto the supreme power, being itself un
limited, as a matter of fact, by any limits of positive law.
" II. Law is a command relating to the general conduct of the
subjects, to which command such sovereign authority has given
legal obligation by annexing a sanction, or penalty, in case of
neglect." (Art. on "The English School of Jurisprudence,"
Fortnightly Review, vol. xxx. pp. 484, 485.)
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 237
Now, if this is to be the interpretation of Austin,
if we are only to consider what the sovereign is for
the purposes of the lawyer, Austin is quite wrong
in going behind the House of Commons to the
electorate. For the lawyer qua lawyer a law is
good law though it were passed by a Parliament
which had abolished the Septennial Act and had
gone on sitting as long as the Long Parliament,
quite as much as if the law were passed by a newly-
summoned parliament, of the elected part of which
an overwhelming majority had been returned ex
pressly pledged to vote for this very law. With the
wishes or feelings of the electors the lawyer as law
yer has nothing whatever to do, however much they
may affect him as a politician or as a reasonable
man. The luminous exposition of this point by
Professor Dicey (Law of the Constitution, ed. 3,
pp. 68-72) makes it unnecessary to say more. As
Professor Dicey points out, Austin's doctrine is
"absolutely inconsistent with the validity of the
Septennial Act." " Nothing," he adds, " is more
certain than that no English judge ever conceded,
or under the present Constitution can concede, that
Parliament is in any legal sense a ' trustee ' for the
electors." (P. 71.)
If any one were to object that our supposition is
an impossible one, and to urge that no Parliament,
now at least, could prolong its existence indefinitely
— nay, that no Parliament now, elected under a
Triennial Act, could pass a Septennial Act, without
first "going to the country" on that very question,
238 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill
and if we were to ask such an objector "Why?"
would not the answer be : " Because the country
would not stand it"? That is to say, behind the
sovereign which the lawyer recognises there is
another sovereign to whom the legal sovereign
must bow. The " legally despotic" sovereign, if
that means our " omnipotent " Parliament, is very
strictly limited in some ways. It is essential, there
fore, to distinguish between the " legal sovereign "
and the " ultimate political sovereign." Or, rather,
to make the distinction complete at once, let us dis
tinguish (i) the nominal sovereign, (2) the legal,
and (3) \^^ political. This distinction would serve
to obviate a great many ambiguities. It is no new
distinction : it is to be found formulated in Locke's
second Treatise of Civil Government, ch. xiii. §§ 149,
"Though in a constituted commonwealth, standing upon its
own basis, and acting according to its own nature — that is, acting
for the perservation of the community — there can be but one
supreme power, which is the legislative, to which all the rest are
and must be subordinate ; yet the legislative being only a fiduciary
power to act for certain ends, there remains still in the people a
supreme power to remove or alter the legislative, when they find
the legislative act contrary to the trust reposed in them. . . .
In some commonwealths, where the legislative is not always in
being, and the executive is vested in a single person, who has
also a share in the legislative, there that single person, in a very
tolerable sense, may also be called supreme, not that he has in
himself all the supreme power, which is that of law-making, but
because he has in him the supreme execution from whom all
inferior magistrates derive all their several subordinate powers,
or, at least, the greatest part of them ; having also no legislative
superior to him, there being no law to be made without his con-
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 239
sent, which cannot be expected should ever subject him to the
other part of the legislative, he is properly enough in this sense
supreme."
In these passages we have the distinction between
what I have called the legal sovereign, the political
sovereign, and the nominal sovereign, expressed in
a manner applicable to the English Constitution.
Locke, it will be observed, does not shirk the verbal
paradox of saying that there are three supremes,
and yet these are not one supreme. Here at least
he makes an analysis of institutions without adopt
ing a method of abstraction which sacrifices truth
and convenience to the mere appearance of precise
arid consistent terminology.
Hobbes, from whom the Austinian conception of
sovereignty comes, purposely identifies all the three
meanings of sovereign. I do not wish to deny for
a moment the immense value in political philosophy
of the unflinching, though narrow, logic of Hobbes.
Hobbes's theory of sovereignty is, of course, equally
applicable to aristocracies and democracies ; but,
with regard to England, as is obvious enough from
the curious dialogue, or rather catechism, which goes
by the name of Behemoth, his theory may be de
scribed as that of a political nominalist, in the sense
that he argues from names to things. Because the
King of England is called " sovereign," therefore
there is no other "legal sovereign" — the Parlia
mentarian lawyers were only talking what Austin
would have called "jargon." That there is no other
" political sovereign " Hobbes seeks to prove by his
240 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
ingenious adaptation of the social contract theory,
which in all other political writers had served the
purpose of vindicating the right of a people to resist
tyrants. Hobbes, like Thrasymachus in Plato's
Republic, makes all laws (legal and moral) depen
dent on the will of a sovereign ; in the phraseology
of his own theory he allows no natural rights (with
the inconsistent exception of the right of preserving
one's life) to persist in civil society. If we translate
his thought out of the fictions in which it is formu
lated, the practical lesson which he wishes to teach
is this : There are only two alternatives — a strong
government or anarchy. It is better to submit to
any kind of authority, however much you dislike it,
than to face the worse evils of universal war.
Locke's threefold distinction in the meaning of
sovereignty allows him to escape the conclusion of
Hobbes, and prepares the way for Rousseau. Ac
cording to Hobbes, natural rights are transferred
to the legal sovereign (and the legal sovereign is
identified with the nominal) ; according to Rousseau,
the legal sovereign is only the minister of the sove
reign people, to whom the natural rights of each
individual are transferred without being lost.1
Austin brushes aside the historical use of " sove-
1 " Trouver une forme dissociation qui defende et protege de
toute la force commune la personne et les biens de chaque associe,
et par laquelle chacun, s'unissant a tous, n'obeisse pourtant qu'a
lui-meme, et reste aussi libre qu'auparavant." Tel est le probleme
fondamental dont le contrat social donne la solution. — Contr.
Soc. I. c. vi.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 24!
reignty" for the sovereignty of a prince. The
historically true and very convenient phrase " limited
monarchy " makes him and his followers almost
angry. As we have seen, his apologists generally
understand his sovereign in the sense of the legal
sovereign ; but he himself, by including the elec
torate in the sovereign of Great Britain, has gone
behind the sovereign for the lawyer qua lawyer.
When Austin speaks of the "bulk" of the com
munity being in the " habit " of obedience, he
indicates that a vague consent of an indeterminate
number of persons is necessary to the real power of
the legal sovereign, thus practically recognising a
sovereignty behind the legal sovereign ; but Austin
will not apply the term sovereign at all except to
a determinate number of persons. Now the elec
torate of Great Britain is certainly a determinate
number ; but is it true to say that it is solely by the
consent of the electorate that the House of Commons
has its power ? Can we say that Austin has indi
cated the ultimate political sovereign in Great
Britain? It is, of course, true that the electors
have an easy and constitutional way by which to
make the members of the House of Commons feel
that, though legally irresponsible, they are actually
or politically responsible. The electorate has the
power of creation and annihilation. It can make a
not-M.P. into an M.P., and it can determine that an
M.P. shall in future sit — outside the House. But
this only represents the constitutional relation of the
electorate to the House of Commons. As a matter
D. H. R
242 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
of fact, can we say that it was to the electorate of
the House of Commons that King and Lords gave
way in 1832 ? Even persons who are not electors
can always make a riot, and sometimes a revolution.
But when we pass outside a body such as the
electorate, we are no longer dealing with " deter
minate persons."
If we turn from the British Constitution to the
Constitution with which it is always most profitable
to compare it — the Constitution of the United
States of America — the contrast with regard to the
''legal sovereign" is obvious, and has been clearly
brought out by Professor Dicey. The lawyer qua
lawyer can go behind an Act of Congress or an act
of the legislature of one of the States to the Con
stitution of the United States, or, in matters affect
ing a particular State and not reserved to the
government of the United States, to the Constitu
tion of that particular State. No English court can
set aside an Act of Parliament as bad law ; if an
Englishman says anything that Parliament does is
unconstitutional, he only means that he does not
approve of it, or that he thinks it contrary to what
he considers " the spirit of the Constitution " : he is
merely expressing his own private opinion. But an
American court can refuse to give judgment in
accordance with an Act of Congress which seems to
it to violate the Constitution ; and when an American
says an Act of Congress is unconstitutional, he is
saying something that (whether true or false) has a
perfectly definite meaning for the lawyer qnd lawyer.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 243
Now Austin, on the look-out for determinate persons,
could not be content to call the written Constitution
sovereign, but finds sovereignty in those persons
who have the power of altering or amending the
Constitution.
" I believe," he says (Jurisprudence, i. p. 268), " that the
common government, or the government consisting of the con
gress and the president of the united states, is merely a subject
minister of the united states' government. I believe that none of
the latter is properly sovereign or supreme, even in the state or
political society of which it is the immediate chief. And, lastly,
I believe that the sovereignty of each of the states, and also of
the larger state arising from the federal union, resides in the
states' governments as forming one aggregate body : meaning by a
state's government, not its ordinary legislature, but the body of
its citizens which appoints its ordinary legislature, and which, the
union apart, is properly sovereign therein." l
With regard to the non-sovereignty of Congress
and President and of the States' legislatures within
each State there is no dispute. If anyone were to
point out that within each State the body of the
electors is sovereign in all those matters not ex
pressly reserved by the Constitution of the United
States, an Austinian would answer that, since the
Constitution may conceivably be altered, the makers
of State Constitutions are subject to the makers of
the Constitution of the United States — which seems
a sufficiently good answer, though it would compel
one to give up the phraseology of the Federalist,
1 The pedantic absence of capitals is Austin's own, and implies
no intention of insult. Austin might have added that the
electors in a State are (the Union apart) sovereign, because they
can alter the constitution of the State.
244 °N THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [viIL
according to which a portion of sovereignty remains
in the individual States (No. Ixii.). Instead of
"remains in," we must say "is delegated to." The
analytic method would invert the historical theory
of the Constitution. That, however, is, as we have
already allowed, no argument against its value.
But is the body which can alter the Constitution of
the United States the legal sovereign behind which
the lawyer qua lawyer cannot go ? Austin draws
his inference from Article V. of the Constitution,
which provides the mechanism for the amendment
of the Constitution ; but he stops his quotation
without giving the last clause of the Article, which
is as follows :
" Provided that no State, without its consent,
shall be deprived of its equal suffrage in the Senate."
Now there can be no doubt that those who
framed this clause intended that it should be un
alterable by that amending body which can make
other changes in the Constitution. It was intended
that, in this respect at least, a few written words
should be legally supreme over those determinate
persons whom Austin considers to be the sovereign
in the United States of America : so that if an
Austinian lawyer objects to speak of a document as
the legal sovereign, he must wander about in his
search for " determinate persons," until he finds
George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Benja
min Franklin, James Madison, and others — all of
whom are now dead. But these makers of the Con-
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 245
stitution, it appears, have provided no mechanism
for enforcing legally this intended limitation of the
amending power. Each house of the legislature is,
by Article I., Sec. 5, constituted supreme judge in
regard to the qualifications of its own members : and
therefore, if an amendment were carried in the
manner sufficient for any other amendment, pro
viding that certain small States should in future
have only one member in the Senate, the other
States having two or more, and if one of these small
States should refuse to consent, such aggrieved
State would have no means of bringing its griev
ance before a court.1 Thus this clause in Article
V., which served the important purpose of concilia
ting the smaller States, is out of place in a legal
document : it has only a moral force, and is like the
clause in the present French Constitution, which
declares that the republican form of government
shall never be subject to revision (Amendment of
August, 1884) — a clause which is condemned by an
American writer on Constitutional Law as " a bit of
useless verbiage." Perhaps Austin was aware of
the defect in this clause of Article V. of the Ameri-
1 I am indebted to Prof. William A. Dunning, of Columbia
College, New York, for pointing this out to me. Misled by
English analogies, in a matter so foreign to English political
usage, I had thought that the excluded Senator might sue the
government for his salary, or in some other way compel a court
to decide on the constitutional legality of the amendment which
deprived his State of its equal suffrage.
2 Prof. J. W. Burgess in his Political Science and Comparative
Constitutional Law, vol. I., p. 172.
246 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
can Constitution from a legal point of view. But let
us suppose that the Constitution did provide some
means for enforcing legally the rights of the smaller
States here solemnly guaranteed (e.g. by making the
Supreme Court the judge in cases of disputed
elections), should we not then have to regard as the
legal sovereign the written Constitution itself, or, if
we must have determinate persons, its original
makers or their ghosts ?
Of course it may be said that such a violation as
I have suggested of the last clause of Article V. is
impossible in America, just as the substitution of
the Septennial Act for the Triennial Act, without a
general election, would now be impossible in Eng
land. That may be true ; but it is irrelevant, if we
are looking for the legal sovereign, as explained by
Austin's apologists. Behind the legal sovereign
there are such feelings as reverence for the past,
imperative needs in the present, and hopes for the
future — which feelings, however, are to be found in
indeterminate, and not in determinate persons. The
ultimate political sovereign is not a determinate
body of persons. And we have just seen that there
might be cases where legal sovereignty could not be
found in a determinate body of persons.
With regard to the nominal sovereign, it must
also be clear that this is not always a determinate
person. No constitutional monarchy has, indeed,
as yet followed the suggestion of Condorcet and
employed an automaton on the throne — " to put
the dots on the is" In a republic it may be con-
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 247
venient to have an individual at the head of the
executive ; but there might be a republic without a
president. In the Swiss Confederation, the Presi
dent is practically only the chairman of an execu
tive board. The President of the United States,
though more powerful in some respects than any
constitutional king, and though he takes a place in
public prayers and in the drinking of toasts parallel
to that occupied by emperors and kings, is certainly
not the nominal sovereign. " The United States
of America " is the nominal sovereign in regard
to certain matters, and " the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts," "the State of New York," etc.,
in regard to others. " The French Republic" is the
nominal sovereign in France, and was so for some
time after the First Napoleon and his imitator had
called themselves " Emperors," just as in ancient
Rome " the Senate and People " was the nominal
sovereign during the rule of the Senatorial oligarchy
and during the despotism of the Caesars.
Mr. Herbert Spencer (The Man versus the State,
p. 81), while apparently accepting Austin's concep
tion of sovereignty as residing in certain determinate
persons, strongly objects to sovereignty being con
sidered unlimited. "Austin," he remarks, "was
originally in the army " ; and this serves him as a
psychological explanation of Austin's theory. "He
assimilates civil authority to military authority."
Now, Mr. Spencer seems to me to find fault just
with what is permanently valuable in Austin's concep
tion of sovereignty. That a sovereign is supreme is
248 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
indeed an identical proposition, but a proposition
which it was very important to assert. If, with
Austin's apologists, we assurrte that the attributes of
sovereignty belong to the legal sovereign, then the
only escape from endless ambiguities, both in theory
and practice, is to insist that the sovereign in every
state is, in Austin's striking phrase, "legally des
potic." I shall consider afterwards, whether in any
sense the ultimate political sovereign can be said to
be limited. The nominal sovereign need not cause
a difficulty, because the nominal sovereign, whether
an individual person or a name, is only the represen
tative of the legal and political sovereigns.1 The
legal despotism of the legal sovereign means only
that the legal sovereign cannot be made legally re
sponsible without a contradiction in terms. As Aris
totle would say, "Otherwise we must go on to in
finity." But this brings out the more clearly the
responsibility of the legal sovereign to moral influ
ences and to physical force. Hobbes did a great
service to civil liberty by making men fully aware
of what the sovereignty of a monarch implied. And
Austin appropriately cites the declaration of Alger
non Sidney, that no society can exist without arbi
trary powers. " The difference between good and
ill governments is not that those of one sort have
1 As Locke puts it, in the latter part of § 151 of his second
Treatise of Civil Government: He "is to be considered as the
image, phantom, or representative of the commonwealth, acted
by the will of the society, declared in its laws, and thus he has no
will, no power, but that of the law." This is true a fortiori of a
nominal sovereign that is not a person or body of persons.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 249
an arbitrary power, which the others have not ; but
that in those which are well constituted, this power
is so placed as it may be beneficial to the people."
(Observe, he does not say merely " exercised bene
ficially for the people," but " so placed as it may
be," etc.) Austin clearly sees what Mr. Spencer is
unable to realise, that without the legal restraints
enforced by a supreme government there cannot be
civil liberty. In Locke's words, " where there is no
law there is no freedom." *
Bluntschli, who by no means shares Mr. Spencer's
antipathy to the State, shares his objection to un
limited sovereignty. (Theory of the State, Eng.
tran., p. 464.2) But we may safely say that no one
trained in the Austinian jurisprudence could have
fallen into the confusions of a passage in Bluntschli
(ibid., p. 508 3), where he declares that "in no case
can an official be bound to render obedience which
would violate the higher principles of religion and
morality, or make him accomplice in a crime. Such
acts can never be the duty of his office. The servant
of the State cannot be required to do what a man
would refuse from humanity, a believer from religion,
or a citizen from regard to the criminal law of the
land." What does he mean by "bound"? An
official cannot be legally bound to break " the law
of the land " ; but he cannot legally claim to disobey
a command, which, though not contrary to the law
1 Treatise of Civil Government, ii., § 57.
2 P. 494 in ed. 2.
3 P' 539 in ed- 2.
250 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
of the land, he considers contrary to his morality and
his religion, and yet to remain an official. Morally,
of course, he may consider himself bound to break
the law of the land : and there are even cases where
such protest may be made most effective by an
official breaking a law which violates the moral feel
ings of the community, and leaving to the authorities
the moral odium of removing or punishing him.
Bluntschli's confusion is perhaps more excusable
than it appears to an English reader, because of the
distinction in Germany between Administrative Law
and the ordinary law binding on non-officials. In
England, as Professor Dicey has clearly pointed
out, we have no droit administratif. But, at the
best, such a dictum as Bluntschli's can do no good,
theoretical or practical, and only helps to make people
more tolerant of tyrannical laws and tyrannical ad
ministration than they ought to be. It is only a
device of despotism to mix up a little pious talk
about morality and religion with an unpalatable legal
pill. It is much better that the law in all its harsh
ness and its makers in all their legal irresponsibility
should stand out clearly before the eyes of those who
are required to obey. For then there is most like
lihood of the moral responsibility of the legal sove
reign being stringently enforced.
Let us, then, leave to the lawyer qua lawyer his
legal sovereign, and go on to consider, what is a
matter not of jurisprudence but of political philosophy
—the nature of the ultimate political sovereign.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 251
What has kept the Constitution of the United
States more unaltered for over a hundred years
than that of any country of Europe ? What prevents
the British Parliament from introducing a Decennial
Act in the same fashion in which the Whigs of 1716
introduced the Septennial Act ? What restrains the
Sultan from ordering his subjects to burn the Koran
and eat pork ? In every case it is not a determinate
person or persons, but opinion.
" As Force is always on the side of the governed, the governors
have nothing to support them but opinion. It is therefore on
opinion only that government is founded, and this maxim extends
to the most despotic and most military governments, as well as
to the most free and most popular."— Hume's Essays, Part I.,
Ess. iv.
With this passage of Hume we may compare the
remarks of Professor Bryce in his discussion of
" Government by Public Opinion." (The American
Commonwealth, chap. 77.)
"Governments have always rested, and, special cases apart,
must rest, if not on the affection, then on the reverence or awe, if
not on the active approval, then on the silent acquiescence of the
numerical majority."
This is the truth which is contained in the famous
doctrine of " the sovereignty of the people " — a doc
trine which by no means originated in the revolu
tionary brain of Rousseau, but was well known at
the time of the Reformation to both Catholics and
Protestants, and was frequently used by one or the
other to justify the deposition and even the assassina-
252 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
tion of rulers — -who belonged to the opposite faith.1
It is the doctrine expressed by Locke in the words :
" There remains in the people a supreme power to re
move or alter the legislative. " Austin himself accepts
the statement " that every government continues
through the people's consent" if interpreted as
follows :
" That in every society, political and independent, the people
are determined by motives of some description or another, to
obey their government habitually ; and that, if the bulk of the
community ceased to obey it habitually, the government would
cease to exist." — Jurisprudence, i. p. 305.
The " sovereignty of the people" is vague: and
it is generally possible for the historian, if not for the
contemporary politician, to point out some definite
person or body of persons, to whom the bulk of
the community are habitually rendering the sort of
obedience which in an accepted absolute monarchy
is rendered to the titular monarch : e.g. we might
speak of the Senate having been practically sove
reign in Rome at the time of the Punic wars, or of
Augustus being practically sovereign in spite of re
publican forms. We can often intelligibly, though
it may be with some exaggeration, speak of " un
crowned kings " and " unofficial ministers." But in
all such cases the person or body of persons rules
only as expressing the general will. Still we might
conveniently make a further distinction in sovereignty
and call the de facto sovereign, as distinct from the
1 See Janet, Histoire de la Science Politique, Liv. Ill ch. iii. and iv.
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 253
de jure sovereign (or legal sovereign), that person or
body of persons which at any time can effectively
obtain and compel obedience in the name of the
nation.1
The problem of good government is the problem
of the proper relation between the legal and the
ultimate political sovereign. Under primitive con
ditions, when the political sovereign is as yet un
conscious of his sovereignty, the fitting form of
government is the rule of the one, the absolute king,
who administers justice according to supposed im
memorial or divinely-instituted custom. When a
people begins to become conscious of its political
existence, a want of harmony may show itself between
the mass of the people and the despotic rulers, who
will be ruling now in accordance with the opinion
of past generations and not of their actual subjects.
Then the old system is on the verge of a revolution,
peaceable or otherwise.2 Representative institutions,
petitions, public meetings, a free press, are various
means through which the political sovereign can
assert itself. When refused such means, and when
yet sufficiently vigorous to use them, it will assert
itself by armed rebellions, or, if that is not possible,
by secret conspiracies and by assassinations, which
being approved by the general conscience, are
morally different from ordinary murders. Political
1 This distinction was suggested by some remarks in a lecture
of Prof. Bryce's. But I must not make him responsible for my way
of fitting it into my own theory as here expressed.
2 Cf. Bryce, The American Commonwealth, iii. pp. 16, 17, chap. 77.
254 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
assassination is a clumsy and generally ineffective
method of moving a vote of censure on the govern
ment in countries where the opposition has no con
stitutional means of expression. When discontent is
" driven beneath the surface," if sufficiently strong it
will produce political earthquakes. Statesmanship has
been defined as " the art of avoiding revolutions,"
and this is so far true that the wise statesman will
make revolution impossible by making it unnecessary,
or else certain of failure, because not supported by
the ''general will." But the "general will," or
ultimate force of public opinion, does not reside in a
determinate number of persons. Rousseau falls into
an error, from which he himself has provided a way
of escape, when he inclines to think that the general
will (the volontd ge'ne'rale which he expressly distin
guishes from the volonte1 de tous) can only be properly
exercised by all the individuals collectively. A great
deal may indeed be said on behalf of the direct
exercise of political power, as among the citizens of
Uri and Appenzell : a great deal may be said on
behalf of the democratic device of the referendum as
an excellent conservative check upon the " hasty
legislation " of an elected assembly ; but the sove
reignty of the people is not exercised only in direct
democracies. It may be and is exercised in many
cases through an absolute monarch, or a dictator, or
a small assembly of public-spirited and far-sighted
nobles or ecclesiastics. Owing to the tendencies of
human selfishness, want of imagination, and narrow
ness of view, the probability is that the interests of
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 255
the unrepresented will not be properly nor system
atically cared for. When a prince really cares for
his people, when an aristocratic assembly overcomes
the prejudices of caste-feeling, there is admiration
as at some rare and curious phenomenon. But only
a bigoted belief in the forms of democracy can pre
vent a historian from recognising that the "general
will " has frequently found expression through the
legal sovereignty of the very few.
The same habit of looking for political sovereignty
in determinate persons leads to a great many of the
prevalent confusions about majorities and minorities.
It seems a plausible argument when it is said that
there is very little gain if the tyranny of a majority
is substituted for the tyranny of a minority, and a
decided loss if the tyranny of an unenlightened
majority is substituted for the tyranny of an en
lightened minority. Quite true — if the rule of the
majority is a tyranny. But "tyranny of the majority"
requires definition. " A majority is tyrannical," says
Professor Bryce (The American Commonwealth,
chap. 85), "when it decides without hearing the
minority, when it suppresses fair and temperate
criticism on its own acts, when it insists on restraining
men in matters where restraint is not required by the
common interest, when it forces men to contribute
money to objects which they disapprove, and which
the common interest does not demand." ! Apart from
such tyranny, the rule of the majority has the import-
1 See below, p. 281, note.
256 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
ant advantage, pointed out in the memorable phrase :
" We count heads to save the trouble of breaking
them." Counting heads — even if they be foolish
heads — is an invention which, on the whole, has
promoted human well-being. The important right
of a minority is the right to turn itself into a majority
if it can. And if the right of free expression of
opinion and of association for the purpose of pro
moting opinion be secured to a minority, we cannot
reasonably say there is tyranny. If a majority be
lieves in the reasonableness of its position, it need
not fear the free discussion of it ; and if a minority
believes in itself and in the reasonableness of its
position, it requires nothing more. To give every
elector or every member of an elected assembly an
equal vote is a convenient device ; it promotes
security by preventing the feeling on the part of the
majority that there is a grievance, and in the long
run it leads to votes being not merely counted, but
weighed. Men hold their opinions with very differ
ent degrees of strength and conviction. Ten persons
who are firmly convinced of the social expediency of
their policy can, if they stick together and are allowed
freedom of association and of expression, very speed
ily turn themselves into ten thousand, when they have
only lukewarm and half-hearted antagonists. (Of
course, I am not referring to scientific opinion as to
what is, but to practical opinion as to what ought to
be done.} We talk of people having opinions ; in the
majority of cases it is the opinions that have the
people. A political idea, a national sentiment, the
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 257
spirit of the age, do not, certainly, float about like
clouds in the air ; they can only exist in the minds
of individuals, but they exist in the minds of indi
viduals with very different degrees of intensity, and
the individuals differ very much in the degree in
which they are conscious of them. The man in whom
an idea, that is only vaguely present in the minds
of others, rises into distinct consciousness, and who
can give expression to that idea in such a way as to
awaken others to the consciousness of it and of its
importance — such an one is a leader of men. The
practical leader, as is often noticed by historians and
politicians, must not be too much in advance of his
contemporaries ; but if he have not a more distinct
consciousness of the aims for which others are blindly
or half-blindly striving, he is in no sense a leader.
Sir Robert Peel, a statesman not incapable of popular
sympathies, described ''public opinion" (in a letter
written in 1820) as "that great compound of folly,
weakness, prejudice, wrong feeling, right feeling,
obstinacy, and newspaper paragraphs." In the same
generation Hegel said : " In public opinion are con
tained all sorts of falsehood and truth." So far he
only says the same thing as Peel ; but he goes on to
add : " To find the truth in it is the business of the
great man. He who tells his age what it wills and
expresses, and brings that to fulfilment, is the great
man of the age." (Pkil. des Rechts, § 318, p. 404.)
The great man must be able to discern between the
real and growing forces in public opinion, and the
mere seeming and transitory or decaying elements in
D. H. s
258 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
it.1 But the man whose ideas and sentiments are
out of all relation to those of his own age cannot
exercise any effect upon it.
When we say that the legally irresponsible legal
sovereign is, as a matter of fact, responsible (morally
and physically) to the ultimate political sovereign,
does not this mean that the ultimate political sove
reign is the mere incarnation of the force of the
majority ? Physical force may be disguised behind
the mechanism of voting ; but it is force in the last
resort. As Locke puts it, " It is necessary that the
body should move whither the greater force carries
it, which is the consent of the majority." (Civil
Government, II., c. viii., § 96.) This force may be
guided by wise or by foolish leaders ; but it is force
nevertheless. Whether a government maintains
itself or is overthrown, it is force that decides.
Well, so it is. All ultimate questions of political, as
distinct from mere legal, right are questions of might.
The repugnance to this conclusion arises simply from
the ambiguity of language. The word "force" seems
to suggest mere brute strength, exclusive of spiritual
elements. But the force which can operate among
human beings successfully and continuously is never
mere brute strength. Discipline, skill, self-control,
fidelity, are elements necessary. to the success even
of what we call " the force of arms " ; and these are
1 This is what is implied in the words in Hegel which follow
those quoted : " He does and makes real what is the inner essence
of his age : and he who does not know how to despise public opinion,
as he hears it here and there, will never attain to what is great."
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 259
all spiritual elements. And a great deal more than
these is necessary in order to establish a secure
government. " You can do anything with bayonets
— except sit on them." All government must have
force at its disposal ; but no government can last
which has merely force at its disposal, even the force
of a veteran army of professional soldiers. All
government implies consent as well as force. 1 These
are the two elements which are recognised separately
and in one-sided fashion in the theory of social con
tract on the one hand, and in the theory of law and
sovereignty maintained by Thrasymachus, Hobbes,
and Austin on the other. A law, to be a law in the
true sense, must have the regulated force of the
community behind it ; but in order to be habitually
obeyed and permanently enforced, it must be recog
nised not merely as " good law '' (in the lawyer's
sense), but as a good law (in the layman's sense), i.e.,
it must be in accordance with the "general will," it
must be thought to promote the common good ; or,
at least, its tendency to injure the common good
must not yet be recognised. It is not necessary that
every law should be explicitly approved by everyone
who obeys it ; that is the impossible demand of in
dividualism, which, carried to its logical issues, is
anarchy, and makes all law alike impossible or
superfluous. But the great majority of those who
habitually obey must recognise the general expedi-
1 Cf. Rousseau, Contrat Social, I., c.iii. " Le plus fort n'est
jamais assez fort pour etre toujours le maitre, s'il ne transforme
sa force en droit, et 1'obeissance en devoir."
260 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
ency of the law, or, if not, they must feel themselves
able to obtain its alteration, or else they must not yet
have awakened to the need of any alteration.
Is there no limitation to this ultimate political
sovereignty ? Within the nation it might be said
there was such in the responsibility of a people to
its own future. But that responsibility is part of
what we include in the " general will " : the ultimate
political sovereign is not the determinate number of
persons now existing in the nation, but the opinions
and feelings of these persons ; and of those opinions
and feelings the traditions of the past, the needs of the
present, the hopes of the future, all form a part. But
may there not be a limitation outside of the nation ?
We are thus led to consider the external aspect of
sovereignty. In Austin's definition, the words " in
dependent " and " not in a habit of obedience to a
like superior " were expressly inserted by him to
obviate the objections he found to Bentham's defini
tion of a political society, on which his own is based
more directly than on any other. The external
aspect of sovereignty, however, came to be recog
nised and debated in modern times before the in
ternal aspect was much considered. The external
aspect of sovereignty is a negative aspect (as is
sufficiently expressed by Austin's word " indepen
dent "), and for that reason allows of precise defini
tion. The Greek term ai/roVo/xo? expresses the
absence of obedience to any external authority, but
it also suggests a self-governing community, and
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 26 1
would not have been applied to the empire of the
Persian king. The Greeks started their political
life, or, at all events, they started their political
thinking with the assumption of the isolated city-
state as the true political society. A larger society
than the city represents to Aristotle an inferior, and
not a higher, stage of political development. Ties
of religious observance and of sentiment, as well as
a common language and a common culture, bound
together the whole Hellenic world as distinct from
" the barbarians." But the independence of the
city-state was too deeply rooted in Greek ways of
thought and life to allow of the absorption of these
numerous societies under a strong central govern
ment. Such an absorption meant the extinction of
freedom. The experiment of federation — the only
method of reconciling autonomy and union — came too
late, and was not tried under favourable conditions.
The nations of modern Europe, on the other hand,
grew up under the shadow, or the ghost, of the Roman
Empire, and were held together by the more real
unity of the Catholic Church. The modern idea of
national sovereignty, i.e., of complete independence
of external authority, only gradually won its way,
and the assertion of national sovereignty went along
with the decay of the Holy Roman Empire and the
revolt of the Northern nations against the authority
of the Pope. On the external side a "sovereign
prince " means a " sovereign nation " ; though, of
course, a sovereign nation may be a sovereign, i.e.,
independent, republic. The internal significance of
262 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
sovereignty became a prominent theoretical and
practical question only after the external question
had been settled.
The recognition of international law may seem
in a certain sense a limitation on the absolute
sovereignty of the nation ; but it is no legal limita
tion, because it is a limitation which is self-imposed.
The independent nation, as Austin and his school
rightly insist, has no legal superior. But the recog
nition on the part of a nation's representatives that
the nation is one of a community of nations, with
moral, though not legal, claims on one another,
which are backed up by the irregular penalties of
war, does impose a moral check on the unlimited
independence of a nation, in the same sense in
which the recognition of the will of the ultimate
political sovereign imposes a moral check on the
legal sovereign.
When Austin and his followers insist that inter
national law is not law, the plausibility of the
remark is mainly due to the fact that the English
language possesses no equivalent for Jus, Droit,
Recht. International law is not Lex : it is Jus.
But the Austinian criticism does good service by
indirectly calling attention to the fact that only the
growth of international morality makes possible the
growth of international law. International law is
law of the primitive type : it is custom. And the
sanctions which deter from violating it are the anger
and hatred of other nations, which may possibly or
very likely result in the use of physical force. In
VIII.] ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. 263
the rudest societies of men there are customs
enforced by no regular judicial penalties, but rigidly
observed through fear of the consequences of
violating them ; and so it is in the, as yet, rude
society of nations. They are in the pre-political
state ; and if we call it the " state of nature," we
must recognise that that is no longer always the
" state of war." The community of nations is as
yet only an idea : it has no legal or political exist
ence. But it is an idea, and as such it forms the
basis of international law.
The relations of the several nations to the whole
of humanity is the problem with which a Philosophy
of History attempts to deal, and from which the
practical statesman cannot escape. The several
nations are not permanent, self-identical, mutually
exclusive units. The evolution of humanity causes
new groups to form themselves by union and
division out of those already existing. Statesmen,
trained in despotic ideas, and endeavouring to
regulate national boundaries from above and from
without, have often separated those whose spirit
was seeking unity and united those who could not
be fused into a homogeneous people. The history
of Europe since the Congress of Vienna is a com
mentary on the impossibility of fixing, by external
authority, what are " independent political societies."
A people in becoming conscious of itself insists on
marking off its own limits as well as on determining
the character of its government.
When we speak of humanity as something behind
264 ON THE CONCEPTION OF SOVEREIGNTY. [vill.
every particular sovereign nation, this is no empty
phrase. The movements, whether economic, in
tellectual, moral, religious, or political, going on in
one nation, affect the movements going on in others.
No nation, for instance, can be freed or enslaved,
enriched or impoverished, without other nations
feeling the consequences. Thus, in the light of
history, no nation is, as a matter of fact, ultimately
irresponsible to the future and to other nations. If
it is responsible, what, then, is the sanction ? It is
the penalty of death — the penalty of perishing
by internal dissensions or by foreign conquest.
"Natural selection" determines in the last resort
which nations shall survive, what groupings of
mankind are most vigorous, and what organisations
are most successful. Die Weltgeschichte ist das
Wellgericht.
Just as it is the business of the ordinary statesman
so to guide the legal sovereign that it does not
provoke the displeasure of the ultimate political
sovereign, it is the business of the greatest states
man so to guide the whole people that they may
adopt those forms which will insure their continuance
and their progress. The really great leader will
anticipate on behalf of his people what painful
experience might otherwise teach too late.
IX.
THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES.1
IN times past government has generally meant the
rule of minorities over majorities. Even the most
democratic governments of the ancient world were
aristocracies of slave-owners. The free citizens of
Athens were a democracy among themselves, but
an aristocracy, if we think of all the human beings
inhabiting Attica. And, even in cases where
"inhabitants" and "free citizens" have been nearly
convertible terms, cities and states governing them
selves democratically have yet denied political rights
to subject peoples. The free citizens of Uri allowed
their bailiffs to rule despotically the inhabitants of
the Ticino valley. Thus, the struggle for freedom
has in the past generally been the struggle of the
majority against a privileged minority. Where
there has been no such struggle, this has been
because the majority have acquiesced in their
political subordination or have never yet awakened
to a sense that anything else is possible except
blind obedience to the one or the few. Such
1 Reprinted from the International Journal of Ethics (Phila
delphia), January, 1891. The substance of this paper was
originally given as a lecture to an Ethical Society.
365
266 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX
political torpor can continue more easily where all
alike are the slaves of an absolute despot. Where
the practices of free government (i.e., government
by discussion, instead of government merely by
force) prevail even among a limited number, an
example is set, which the many in course of time
will desire to imitate. It is therefore more
dangerous for a republican than for a monarchical
government to practise tyranny or claim exclusive
privilege. The history of ancient Rome is the
history of a gradual extension of citizenship to those
previously excluded, — an extension won by party-
struggles.
Democracy, in the full modern sense, means the
rule of the majority. For practical purposes the
majority must be taken as, for the time being, the
representative of all. If all cannot have their
wishes gratified, it is the less evil to adopt the view
of the greater number. This is democracy in its
lowest terms ; in its ideal it means a great deal more
o
than a machine for carrying into effect the wishes
of the majority. It may be urged that it is very
absurd to expect the whole to yield to the decision
of half phis one : and a democracy may limit itself
by requiring that important changes can only take
place with the consent of two-thirds or three-fourths
of the persons voting or even of the persons entitled
to vote. But no practical person will go so far as
to require unanimity in large bodies. To expect
unanimity, as is done in a Russian village com
munity, belongs to a very crude stage of political
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 267
thinking and is apt to mean the tyranny of the most
obstinate. In judicial matters it is somewhat
different ; there may be good arguments for re
quiring unanimity in a jury, but I am not concerned
to defend the English system. Yet, even with
regard to that, one has heard of the Irishman who
accused the other eleven of being '' obstinate " ; he
knew how to assert the rights of minorities.
Obstinacy is a very good thing in its way, as I shall
have occasion to point out afterwards ; but, on the
whole, one is likely to get a more rational expression
of opinion by recognising the principle of "counting
heads." Thus there inevitably remains a minority
whose wishes are overridden. Of course this mino
rity may be a different one on different questions ;
but the effect of party government is to make a
great number of questions run together.
The claims of a minority to consideration may be
merely a survival of claims to exclusive privilege.
The dethroned rulers may not "give way with a
good grace," and may expect in a changed constitu
tion to retain their old pre-eminence. The extent of
the change, which has taken place, may be disguised
from them by the way in which it has come about,
as in those countries that have been fortunate
enough to grow gradually out of one form into
another. Birth and wealth, with the advantages of
education and position which they may carry with
them, give a person prestige in a community, how
ever formally democratic it may be ; but the person
of birth or wealth may go on to demand an express
268 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
recognition of his advantages. Now such a claim
on the part of a minority a democracy cannot
recognise without defeating its very principle ; and
it may be questioned how far any such recognition
ultimately benefits the minority itself. An express
and formal superiority awakens jealousy and dis
like ; 1 an actual superiority of any obvious kind gets
in a democratic country abundant opportunities of
asserting itself, — in the case of wealth only too
abundant opportunities.
It is a claim of a very different and more important
kind which is made in Mill's Liberty, — a claim for
the minority, put forward, however, not so much on
behalf of the interests of the minority themselves as
on behalf of the future and general well-being of
mankind. All great movements of progress, it is
pointed out, have begun with minorities ; and thus,
if the opinions arid efforts of a minority are repressed
and thwarted, progress may be hindered and future
generations suffer. Others, again, go further and,
echoing Carlyle's words, urge that, as the population
consists mostly of fools, to allow the majority to rule
is to allow the fools to rule. Knowledge, except of
the loosest and most meagre kind, is the possession
only of the few ; and so, it is argued, we must turn
to the experts, and disregard the clamour of the many.
.g.> the Prussian " three-class system," according to which
all primary voters are distributed into three classes according to
the amount of direct taxes they pay, — classes of unequal size, but
with equal voting power. The system was vigorously denounced
by Lassalle.
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 269
On this subject of the authority of the few and
the many respectively considerable confusion shows
itself every now and then. It may be as well to try
to clear it up a little. On the one hand, it is un
doubtedly true that scientific truth is scientifically
known only by a few experts ; others must accept it
on their authority. On the other hand, there has
always been a tendency to believe that the mass of
mankind cannot be entirely in the wrong ; that there
must be some truth in what is generally believed.
And the actual growth of democracy and of the
democratic spirit might seem to have enormously in
creased the force of the authority of general consent.
To escape from this apparent contradiction we must
carefully distinguish between the grounds on which
we accept scientific truth and the grounds on which we
adopt practical maxims. The vast mass of mankind
have believed that the sun goes round the earth,
have believed in witchcraft, in ghosts, etc. And
this universality of belief is sometimes urged as an
argument in favour of the truth of such opinions. It
does prove that the scientific disbeliever is bound to
show, not merely that such beliefs are erroneous,
but also how they can have arisen and become pre
valent. In the case of the relation of sun and earth,
that is easy enough. The popular view, which still
survives as often as the most scientifically-minded
person talks of sunrise and sunset, is the first obvious
interpretation of the impressions of sense. And
similarly (though the matter is often much more
complex) a knowledge of the mental history of the
270 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
human race — a knowledge enormously increased of
late by the careful study of lower races — will ex
plain the wide acceptance of beliefs which the growth
of science tends to discredit. But in all such cases
the minority of trained minds has an authority that
does not belong to the majority of untrained minds.
This legitimate authority of the expert is often
used as an argument that government must be in
the hands of a select class. It is sometimes even
used as an argument for an hereditary aristocracy, —
which of course it does not support at all. It might
seem to support the rule of an intellectual aristocracy,
if we could get together such a body, — Plato's
" philosopher kings." On the strength of this argu
ment the Fellows of the Royal Society might claim
to teach us lessons in the art of government. But
the argument rests on a confusion between what is
true for the intellect and what is practically ex
pedient. If the majority of a people have a strong,
though it may seem to the educated observer a
perfectly unreasonable, belief in monarchical insti
tutions, — are ready to die for their king, — then,
however superior we many think republican institu
tions, it would be folly to impose them from without
upon an unwilling people. It is of no use to give
any people the best constitution (or what we think
such) unless we convince them that it is the best, so
that it becomes the best for them. All government
is based upon opinion. This is the dictum of the
cautious conservative Hume as well as- of the demo
cratic prophet Rousseau. Matters of detail can
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 271
indeed be best decided by experts, and cannot be
properly decided at all except by them (they must,
however, be experts in the art of administration, and
not merely in some theoretical science). But the
mass of a nation must be convinced of the value of
the general principle which is being carried out; else
what we might judge the most salutary changes will
be ineffectual. Of course the existence of an institu
tion is often itself an important factor in producing
the opinion favourable to it ; but it is the favourable
opinion, and not the mere legal existence of the
institution, that makes the institution of any value.
If the mass of a people believe a law to be unjust, it
matters not that a few highly-cultured gentlemen at
the head of affairs are perfectly satisfied of its
justice ; to the people it is an unjust law, and has
none of the binding force of law on their sentiments
and conscience.1 And laws which people generally
(I do not mean a few stray persons here and there)
think it right to violate are producing the very
opposite moral effect from that which good laws
1 In practice the most difficult cases are those where legislation
has to deal with some matter (e.g. of health) on which none but
the scientific expert can in the first instance form a sound judg
ment. It is only too possible that democratic societies may,
through popular distrust of scientific opinion, fall in some respects
behind societies under enlightened despotisms. The remedy is
not despotism, but popular enlightenment. The scientific specia
list is bound, therefore, by patriotism as well in the interests of
his own science, to lend what aid he can to that popularisation of
science from which he is too apt to recoil : it is the sole antidote
to ignorance and pseudo-science. Those whom science neglects,
fanaticism and quackery will claim for their own.
272 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
ought to produce. That this or that law or institu
tion is suitable for us or the reverse is not a pro
position of the same kind with the proposition
that such and such things do or do not happen in
the course of nature or history. That the Romans
lived under such and such a constitution is a propo
sition, with regard to whose truth or falsehood the
opinion of the scientific historian outweighs any
amount of popular belief or tradition. But that such
and such a law or constitution is good for us is only
true if we think it so, after a fair trial. (The qualifi
cation is essential.) To use a familiar illustration, it
is the wearer of the shoe that knows whether the
shoe pinches. The scientific shoemaker alone may
know why it pinches, and how to remedy the mis
chief. But if the scientific shoemaker were to con
vince you that the shoe did not pinch, he would
convince your intellect only, if the shoe continued to
hurt your foot; and you would be apt to go in future
to the unscientific shoemaker who could give you
comfort even without science. So it is with consti
tutions and laws. Those who have to wear them
must judge whether or not they fit ; and therefore
they must have the decisive voice as to the general
principles, though, as already said, details had better
be left to experts. Ends must be approved by the
feeling of the many ; the means must be chosen by
the intellect of the few. This is, in fact, the raison
d'etre of representative democracy, — the many
choose the few to carry out their wishes.
These distinctions — -first, between scientific and
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 273
practical matters, secondly, between judgments about
ends and about means — may seem almost too obvious
to need statement. But obvious distinctions are apt
to be overlooked ; and it is worth uttering truisms,
if we can get rid of the fallacious argument that
because the few may be wiser than the many, there
fore the few should rule the many, otherwise than as
their ministers and stewards.
Those who are ready for all practical purposes
to accept the will of the majority as decisive yet
sometimes think it necessary to propose various
expedients for securing what is called " the repre
sentation of minorities." The danger of the non-
representation of minorities seems to me to be a
good deal exaggerated by Mill and other advocates of
" proportional representation " and similar schemes.
It would indeed not be difficult to make out a. primd
facie case for the absurdity of the whole system of
representative government, if we attended merely
to the arithmetical possibilities of its mechanism.
Thus, in Great Britain, the determining power lies
with the majority of a Cabinet, which is supported
by a majority of the House of Commons, which is
elected, it may be, by a bare majority of the
electors ; so that the representative system seems,
when carried out, to defeat itself and to put power
into the hands of a very small minority of the whole
population,— ultimately perhaps into the hands of
" the odd man." But this seeming absurdity results
from an abstract and artificial way of looking at the
matter. The will of these few persons is only effec-
D. H. T
274 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
tive because they do represent (or at least did, at
some time, represent) something very much more
than a small fraction of the population. No scheme
that can be constructed by human ingenuity will
make a representative chamber a quite perfect mirror
of all the various sets of opinion in the community.
It is only a question of more or less ; and, what is
very important, any arrangement that is adopted
must have the merit not merely of being simple to
work, but of looking simple. Even the suspicion of
trickery must be avoided. This is, of course, the
great advantage of the system of equal electoral
districts with single members, and " one man one
vote." Even so, it may indeed happen that a
majority of the elected chamber may represent a
minority of the electors, — if one party have ex
tremely large majorities in some places and be
defeated by extremely narrow majorities in others.
Accidents of that sort will happen in the best regu
lated constitutions; but the chances are, certainly,
against their happening to any very great extent.
But when such arithmetical possibilities are insisted
on, it is forgotten, in the first place, that each indivi
dual member has many other attributes besides being
the member for so-and-so, and, in the second place,
that there are elements in the living constitution of
a country besides those written down by constitu
tional lawyers. An elected assembly is powerful
indeed. It may, like the British Parliament, be
legally " omnipotent ; " and yet there is a power
behind it, a power that acts not merely at the time
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 275
of a general election, but continuously, — the power
of public opinion. The newspaper and the public
meeting and the petition are real factors in a modern
constitution. It is easy enough to see the defects
of each of these organs of public opinion, easy
enough to throw ridicule upon them. But that is to
miss their true significance. The newspaper ought
to represent the power of intellect applied to prac
tical matters ; it is too apt to represent largely the
power of money — not merely the capital that is
needed to float it, but the money that comes in
through advertisements. The political and moral
consequences of advertising would, however, be too
long a story to begin now ; to have named it may
suffice. Then, as to public meetings : there are
many people who scoff at them. " Got-up agitations,"
" power of the strongest lungs," and so on. Those
who talk in this way seem to forget that, though
you may make a " flare-up " with a few shavings and
a lucifer-match, to keep up a steady heat you need
coals as well. There cannot be such a thing as an
agitation that lasts, grows, and for which people
sacrifice a great deal, and which is nevertheless
merely " got up." A continuous agitation is not a
cause but a symptom of discontent. Public meet
ings, petitions, pamphlets, newspaper articles, are,
however imperfectly, organs of public opinion, and
much better and more effective organs than assas
sination or even than epigrams, which take their
place in despotically governed countries.1
1 Public meetings, petitions, etc., are indeed very rudimentary
276 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
Where there exist such organs of public opinion
and a tolerably sound, even though not ideally per
fect, representative system, any minority which has
really got life and vigour in it can make itself felt.
I do not think that, if it were possible, it would be
desirable to construct any political machinery for
giving a prominent place to the opinions of minori
ties that will not take the trouble to assert and to
spread these opinions. The all-important and
essential right of minorities is the right to turn
themselves into majorities if they can ; this means
freedom of the press, freedom of association, freedom
of public meeting. " Give me," said Milton, " the
liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely accord
ing to conscience, above all other liberties." Minori
ties that grumble at the whole world round them
and have no desire and no hope of convincing other
people are not a valuable factor in political or social
life. They are, in all probability, the decaying sur
vivals of a past type, and not the first germs of a
new.
In a genuinely democratic government votes
are nominally merely counted ; in reality they are
weighed. Not indeed in the sense that wisdom
always weighs the heaviest — in what constitution,
outside Utopia, does that happen ? — but in the sense
that the energy and contagious enthusiasm of a few,
who represent some living and growing idea, far
" organs " of popular sovereignty compared with the Swiss " re
ferendum" and "initiative," which seem to work well — in
Switzerland, at least.
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 277
outweigh the indifference and apathy of great
numbers. Great movements begin with small
minorities ; but these minorities must consist of
persons who wish to make others share their convic
tions. From this follows all that can be laid down
in general terms about the rights and — what we are
less apt to think of — the duties of minorities.
The right of spreading one's opinions implies two
things, neither of which must be absent : first, cer
tain legal and constitutional securities ; and, secondly,
a certain condition of public sentiment. Without
the latter the former cannot be obtained unless
exceptionally, as, for instance, under an enlightened
despotism ; and that is really no exception, for secu
rities dependent on the strong will of one enlightened
and big-minded man can hardly be called constitu
tional, and are an uncertain bulwark of liberty. On
the other hand, without explicitly recognised legal
safeguards public sentiment is a somewhat fickle
protector of liberty. Outbursts of fear, fanaticism,
and intolerance are only too possible ; and a good
deal may be said even for the merely moral force of
a formal " declaration of rights." A people in its
calm or its generous moments may well protect itself
against its own lower moods : it is something to be
able to appeal from the people drunk to the people
sober. And the strong hand of the state is often
needed to protect the individual against undue social
pressure.
I do not think that the subject of the ethics of
toleration has ever been adequately treated. Tolera-
2/8 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
tion is often supposed to arise solely from indiffer
ence. This is not the case. In fact, indifference
makes toleration superfluous. Toleration, shown
by those who " care for none of these things,"
is no virtue, though it may be a public duty in
a magistrate "indifferently administering justice."
The toleration of contempt may, indeed, be very
useful to those who are zealous and in earnest. The
kind of toleration which is most valuable, which can
only exist in a morally healthy society, and which
will help to keep the society healthy and make it
healthier, is toleration shown by those who have
faith in the reasonableness of their own beliefs and
who are, therefore, willing to face the full light
of criticism. Persecution, — and by persecution I
mean here not what any aggrieved individual may
call such, but the forcible suppression of opinions
(every society is obliged to use force for the suppres
sion of certain overt actions, and the line between
expedient and inexpedient compulsion will be drawn
differently by different persons), — persecution arises
mainly from two sources, — fear and a particular form
of belief in the supernatural. If people do seriously
believe that they and they alone are in possession
of truth guaranteed to them by other authority than
that of human reason, of course they will not accept
the free use of reason as a test ; and there is
always a risk that, if sufficiently powerful, they will
endeavour to repress the spread of what they con
scientiously regard as dangerous opinions. Those
who believe that Divine truth is something different
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 279
from human truth will be apt to believe that the
civil magistrate must defend the Deity by the power
of the sword. This type of belief is really a form of
fear, — it is fear of human reason ; and, only as this
belief becomes rarer or weaker by the secularising,
or, to speak more correctly, the humanising of politics,
does toleration become possible. But fear may
make even those who appeal to reason persecutors in
self-defence. It is difficult, if we are quite just in
our historical judgments, to condemn entirely the
harsh measures employed by small societies hold
ing new beliefs, — antagonistic to those of firmly es
tablished and powerful communities, — such small
societies, for instance, as the Calvinists of Geneva or
the founders of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.1
When a society is struggling to exist at all, cohesion
is so essential that it may well require uniformity of
belief. A rigid bond of custom is necessary to its
earlier stages. Only after cohesion has been
obtained is freedom of discussion possible and
advantageous. Furthermore, complete freedom of
discussion is only possible and is only valuable,
when there is a general diffusion of education, and
when the habit of settling matters by discussion,
instead of by force, has become establishedi In
admitting this we must not, however, forget that
discussion itself is one of the most important means
of education. There are indeed people — •" misolo-
1 Even the most rigid sects of Protestants do in some sense
professedly appeal to reason instead of ecclesiastical authority, as
the interpreter of Scripture.
280 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
gists," Plato would have called them — who say :
" Controversy is of no use. Those who take part
in it go away holding the same beliefs as before, only
holding them more dogmatically as the result of
having had to fight for them." If the fighting is
physical, this is nearly always the case ; it is not true
of intellectual controversy fairly carried on. During
the actual discussion, indeed, each may stick to his
opinion : it might even be said that, unless people
showed some obstinacy, a debate would always be a
failure. For minds in a perfectly flabby condition
discussion is impossible : it implies a certain amount
of mutual resistance. But if people are really in
earnest and care more for truth than for victory, it
will be found that after any serious discussion both
parties have probably modified their opinions, and
out of the conflict of two opposing principles may
spring a new one, victorious over both. It is by
the conflict of ideas that intellectual progress is
made.
Professor Bryce in his great work on The
American Commonwealth has made clear a very
important distinction between " the tyranny of the
majority" and "the fatalism of the multitude,"
which is often confused with it. "A majority is
tyrannical," he says (vol. iii. p. 133), "when it
decides without hearing the minority, when it
suppresses fair and temperate criticism on its own
acts, when it insists on restraining men in matters
where restraint is not required by the common
interest, when it forces men to contribute money to
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 28 1
objects which they disapprove and which the com
mon interest does not demand.1 The element of
tyranny lies in the wantonness of the act, — a
wantonness springing from the sense of overwhelm
ing power, or in the fact that it is a misuse for one
purpose of power granted for another."
Simply because the minority disapprove of the
enactments of the majority, they cannot rightly
describe the rule of the majority as " tyrannical."
In a democratic constitution, with elections recur
ring sufficiently often, and proper safeguards for
liberty of expressing and spreading opinions, the
right of the minority is, as I have said, to turn
themselves into a majority if they can ; and it
must be added, it is their duty also, if they continue
to believe in themselves. But here comes in that
"fatalism," which is so often wrongly described as
the tyranny of the majority ; the apathy of minori
ties is one of the frequent weaknesses in democratic
communities. As Professor Bryce has put it, "the
belief in the rights of the majority lies very near
to the belief that the majority must be right" (ib.,
p. 124). To give way for the time to the legally
expressed will of the majority is a necessary and
1 I assume that the "and" is emphatic, and that this clause
must be taken as qualifying the previous clause. If a tax is
legally imposed by the majority for a purpose which the common
interest (in their judgment) demands, a minority may disapprove
this purpose, but they have no moral right to refuse payment of
the tax, unless they are conscientiously convinced that such an
act of rebellion is their duty, as the best means of bringing about
what they regard as a better state of affairs.
282 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
salutary consequence of popular government ; but
to lose heart and give up effort is an illegitimate
and evil consequence of it. It is the duty of a
minority to obey, unless conscience absolutely for
bids ; in which extreme case it may become a duty
to resist. If we are using language strictly, there
never can be a right of resistance. Rights are the
creation of society, and there can be no right of the
individual or of any number of individuals against
the society of which they are members. When we
speak of "natural rights," we really mean those
rights which we think to be the very least that a
well-organised society should secure to its members.
In the American "Declaration of Independence"
the time-honoured phrase about the right of resist
ance is wisely supplemented by the addition of the
better and truer word, "duty."
Resistance may, in extreme cases, be the only
way of protesting against what we hold to be an
unjust and mischievous law and the only way of get
ting it altered. But the problems of practical ethics
involved in this question are not easy. The limits
of justifiable compromise cannot be laid down in
any hard and fast a priori rules. If it really goes
against a man's conscience to obey a laiv (I am not
speaking of arbitrary, illegal commands, where the
right and duty of disobedience are clear enough), he
can, if we use language strictly, claim no right to
disobey, but it is his duty to disobey, at what
ever cost ; if he obeys against his conscience,
he loses his own self-respect and lowers his cha-
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 283
racter. Only let him be perfectly sure that it
is his conscience that urges him and not some
merely selfish motive of personal dislike or offended
pride. To justify this statement and this distinc
tion, it would of course be necessary to explain
what is meant by " conscience." Suffice it to say
for the present — and I think the supporters of most
ethical systems would agree with this statement—
that the dictates of a man's conscience will on the
whole correspond to the better spirit of the com
munity round him, or at least to what he regards as
such ; and therefore the man, who disobeys a law
"for conscience sake" is acting in the interests of
what he conceives to be the future well-being of
society. Of course a man's conscience may corre
spond to a superseded social type, but it will not be
a superseded type in his own judgment. Posterity
may come to disapprove many actions, and yet
bestow admiration on the motives of those who did
them. Even where an individual has no conscien
tious objection to render obedience himself, it may
occasionally be his duty, in the interests of the
future well-being of society, to join others in resist
ing and even in rebelling, provided that there is no
reasonable hope of getting a bad law or a bad con
stitution altered by peaceable means, and provided
also that there is a reasonable hope that the resist
ance or rebellion will be so successful as to lead to
an alteration in the right direction.1 Such is the
1 On the Ethics of Resistance, see T. H. Green, Philosophical
Works, ii. p. 455, Se4>
284 THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. [iX.
terrible duty that occasionally falls on the shoulders
of a minority, to bear the brand of the criminal now
that others in time to come may render a willing
obedience to better laws. Society is apt to make
mistakes, to number the patriot or the saint among
transgressors, to crucify a prophet between two
thieves. But the individual is apt to make mistakes
also, and there have been honest martyrs for bad
causes.
If, however, democracies prove at all true to their
ideal, if they live according to the ethics of the age
of discussion and not according to those of the
earlier ages of force, this duty of resistance should
become less and less needed. If majorities,
while requiring obedience to laws constitutionally
passed, after full and free deliberation, in what they
sincerely believe to be the interest of the whole
community, sacredly preserve the liberty of thought
and discussion both by express legal securities and
by a general sentiment of toleration, it is the duty
of a minority, while yielding a loyal obedience to
the opinion that has prevailed for the time (except
in those rare cases to which I have referred), if not
convinced of its excellence, to continue a peaceable
agitation till their own opinion prevails. If we are
really in earnest about our opinions, it is a duty to
endeavour to get others to accept them by means
of the appeal to reason ; it is also a duty, and often
a very hard one, to give them up candidly, if we are
genuinely convinced that we have been in the
wrong. It is a duty to assert our opinions, wisely
IX.] THE RIGHTS OF MINORITIES. 285
of course, and with toleration for others, even if
those others be in the majority ; but it is a prior duty
to use all the care we can to make sure that our
opinions are right, that what we assert eagerly and
persistently is really worth asserting. It is utterly
untrue to say that we are not responsible for our
opinions. That was a bad argument used for a good
purpose, — the attack upon religious persecution.
Opinions are not trivial matters. What is quietly
thought and talked about now will affect what is
done very soon. The opinions of a few in one
generation may, in the next generation, become the
sentiments or the prejudices of the many. Ethical
legislation is constantly going on in our every-day
conversation, wherever two or three are gathered
together — to discuss the conduct of their neigh
bours. And we cannot escape our responsibility
for our share in this ethical legislation, however
insignificant we may feel ourselves in presence of
the great multitudes of our fellow-mortals. To
these great multitudes each of us is responsible ;
and we owe it to them to oppose them, then and
then only, when reason and conscience urge us to
do so.
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