iv. 566-568), but to the wicked a region of wintry darkness and of

unceasing torment. Josephus tells us too that the Essenes believed in fate; but in what sense, and what relation it bore to Divine Providence, does not appear.

The above evidence has left students in doubt as to whether Essenism is to be regarded as a pure product of the Jewish mind or as due in part to some foreign influence. On the one hand it might be maintained that the Essenes out-Pharisee'd the Pharisees. They had in common with that sect their veneration for Moses and the Law, their Sabbatarianism, their striving after ceremonial purity, and their tendency towards fatalism. But if the Pharisees abstained from good works on the Sabbath, the Essenes abstained even from natural necessities (Jos. _B.J._ ii. 8, S 9); if the Pharisees washed, the Essenes bathed before dinner; if the Pharisees ascribed some things to Fate, the Essenes ascribed all (Jos. _Ant._ xiii. 5, S 9). But on the other hand the Essenes avoided marriage, which the Pharisees held in honour; they offered no animal-sacrifices in the Temple; they refrained from the use of oil, which was customary among the Pharisees (Luke vii. 46); above all, they offered prayers to the sun, after the manner denounced in Ezekiel (viii. 16). These and other points of divergences are not explained by Ritschl's interesting theory that Essenism was an organized attempt to carry out the idea of "a kingdom of priests and an holy nation" (Ex. xix. 6).

Granting then that some foreign influence was at work in Essenism, we have four theories offered to us--that this influence was Persian, Buddhist, Pythagorean, or lastly, as maintained by Lipsius, that of the surrounding Syrian heathenism. Each of these views has had able advocates, but it must not be supposed that they are mutually exclusive. If we consider how Philo, while remaining a devout Jew in religion, yet managed to assimilate the whole Stoic philosophy, we can well believe that the Essenes might have been influenced, as Zeller maintained that they were, by Neo-Pythagoreanism. But as Pythagoras himself came from Samos, and his doctrines have a decidedly Oriental tinge, it may very well be that both he and the Essenes drew from a common source; for there is no need to reject, as is so commonly done, the statements of our authorities as to the antiquity of the Essenes. This common source we may believe with Lightfoot to have been the Persian religion, which we know to have profoundly influenced that of Israel, independently of the Essenes.

The fact that the Pharisees and Sadducees so often figure in the pages of the New Testament, while the Essenes are never mentioned, might plausibly be interpreted to show that the New Testament emanated from the side of the Essenes. So far as concerns the Epistle of St James this interpretation would probably be correct. That work contains the doctrine common to the Essenes with Plato, and suggestive of Persian Dualism, that God is the author of good only. There are also certain obvious points of resemblance between the Essenes and the early Christians. Both held property in common; both had scattered communities which received guests one from the other; both avoided a light use of oaths; both taught passive obedience to political authority. The list might be enlarged, but it would not necessarily prove more than that the early Christians shared in the ideas of their age. Christianity was to some extent a popularization of Essenism, but there is little reason for believing that Jesus himself was an Essene. De Quincey's contention that there were no Essenes but the early Christians is now a literary curiosity.

The original sources of our knowledge of the Essenes have been mentioned at the beginning of this paper; the best modern discussions of them are to be found in such works as Zeller's _Philosophie der Griechen_, vol. iii.; Ewald, _Geschichte d. V. Israel_, iii. 419-428; Reuss, _La Theologie chretienne au siecle apostolique_, i. 122-131; Keim, _Life of Jesus of Nazara_, vol. i.; Lightfoot on the Colossians; Lucius, _Der Essenismus in seinem Verhaltniss zum Judenthum_; Wellhausen, _Israelitische und judische Geschichte_; Ed. Schurer, _The Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ_, div. ii. vol. ii. S 30. The copious bibliography in Conybeare's edition of Philo's _De vita contemplativa_ bears upon the Essenes as well as upon the Therapeutes. For a specially Jewish view of the Essenes see Kohler's article in the _Jewish Encyclopaedia_. They are there regarded as being "simply the rigorists among the Pharisees." But we are also told that "the Pharisees characterized the Essene as 'a fool who destroyed the world.'" (T. K.; St G. S.)

ESSENTUKI, a watering-place of south Russia, in the government of Terek, 11 m. by rail W. from Pyatigorsk; altitude, 2096 ft. Its alkaline and sulphur-alkaline mineral waters, similar to those of Ems, Selters and Vichy, are much visited in summer. The climate shows great variations in temperature. Pop. (1897) 9974.

ESSEQUIBO, or ESSEQUEBO, one of the three settlements of British Guiana, taking its name from the river Essequibo. (See GUIANA.)

ESSEX, EARLS OF. The first earl of Essex was probably Geoffrey de Mandeville (q.v.), who became earl about 1139, the earldom being subsequently held by his two sons, Geoffrey and William, until the death of the latter in 1189. In 1199 Geoffrey Fitzpeter or Fitzpiers (d. 1213), who was related to the Mandevilles through his wife Beatrice, became earl of Essex, and on the death of Geoffrey's son William in 1227 the earldom reverted for the second time to the crown. Then the title to the earldom passed by marriage to the Bohuns, earls of Hereford, and before 1239 Humphrey de Bohun (d. 1275) had been recognized as earl of Essex. With the earldom of Hereford the earldom of Essex became extinct in 1373; afterwards it was held by Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, a son of Edward III. and the husband of Eleanor de Bohun; and from Gloucester it passed to the Bourchiers, Henry Bourchier (d. 1483), who secured the earldom in 1461, being one of Gloucester's grandsons. The second and last Bourchier earl was Henry's grandson Henry, who died early in 1540. A few weeks before his execution in 1540 Thomas Cromwell (q.v.) was created earl of Essex; then in 1543 William Parr, afterwards marquess of Northampton, obtained the earldom by right of his wife Anne, a daughter of the last Bourchier earl. Northampton lost the earldom when he was attainted in 1553; and afterwards it passed to the famous family of Devereux, Walter Devereux, who was created earl of Essex in 1572, being related to the Bourchiers. Robert, the 3rd and last Devereux earl, died in 1646. In 1661 Arthur Capel was created earl of Essex, and the earldom is still held by his descendants.

ESSEX, ARTHUR CAPEL, 1ST[1] EARL OF (1632-1683), English statesman, son of Arthur, 1st Baron Capel of Hadham (c. 1641), executed in 1649, and of Elizabeth, daughter and heir of Sir Charles Morrison of Cashiobury in Hertfordshire, was baptized on the 28th of January 1632. In June 1648, then a sickly boy of sixteen, he was taken by Fairfax's soldiers from Hadham to Colchester, which his father was defending, and carried every day round the works with the hope of inducing Lord Capel to surrender the place. At the restoration he was created Viscount Malden and earl of Essex (20th of April 1661), with special remainder to the male issue of his father, and was made lord-lieutenant of Hertfordshire and a few years later of Wiltshire.[2]

He early showed himself antagonistic to the court, to Roman Catholicism, and to the extension of the royal prerogative, and was coupled by Charles II. with Holles as "stiff and sullen men," who would not yield against their convictions to his solicitations. In 1669 he was sent as ambassador to King Christian V. of Denmark, in which capacity he gained credit by refusing to strike his flag to the governor of Kronborg. In 1672 he was made a privy councillor and lord-lieutenant of Ireland. He remained in office till 1677, and his administration was greatly commended by Burnet and Ormonde,[3] the former describing it "as a pattern to all that come after him." He identified himself with Irish interests, and took immense pains to understand the constitution and the political necessities of the country, appointing men of real merit to office, and maintaining an exceptional independence from solicitation and influence. He held a just balance between the Roman Catholics, the English Church and the Presbyterians, protecting the former as far as public opinion in England would permit, and governing the native Irish with firmness and moderation. The purity and patriotism of his administration were in strong contrast to the hopeless corruption prevalent in that at home and naturally aroused bitter opposition, as an obstacle to the unscrupulous employment of Irish revenues for the satisfaction of the court and the king's expenses. In particular he came into conflict with Lord Ranelagh, to whom had been assigned the Irish revenues on condition of his supplying the requirements of the crown, and whose accounts Essex refused to pass. He opposed strongly the lavish gifts of forfeited estates to court favourites and mistresses, prevented the grant of Phoenix Park to the duchess of Cleveland, and refused to encumber the administration by granting reversions. Finally the intrigues of his enemies at home, and Charles's continual demands for money, which Ranelagh undertook to satisfy, brought about his recall in April 1677. He immediately joined the country party and the opposition to Danby's government, and on the latter's fall in 1679 was appointed a commissioner of the treasury, and the same year a member of Sir William Temple's new-modelled council. He followed the lead of Halifax, who advocated not the exclusion of James, but the limitation of his sovereign powers, and looked to the prince of Orange rather than to Monmouth as the leader of Protestantism, incurring thereby the hostility of Shaftesbury, but at the same time gaining the confidence of Charles. He was appointed by Charles together with Halifax to hear the charges against Lauderdale. In July he wrote a wise and statesmanlike letter to the king, advising him to renounce his project of raising a new company of guards. Together with Halifax he urged Charles to summon the parliament, and after his refusal resigned the treasury in November, the real cause being, according to one account,[4] a demand upon the treasury by the duchess of Cleveland for L25,000, according to another "the niceness of touching French money," "that makes my Lord Essex's squeasy stomach that it can no longer digest his employment."[5]

Subsequently his political attitude underwent a change, the exact cause of which is not clear--probably a growing conviction of the dangers threatened by a Roman Catholic sovereign of the character of James. He now, in 1680, joined Shaftesbury's party and supported the Exclusion Bill, and on its rejection by the Lords carried a motion for an association to execute the scheme of expedients promoted by Halifax. On the 25th of January 1681 at the head of fifteen peers he presented a petition to the king, couched in exaggerated language, requesting the abandonment of the session of parliament at Oxford. He was a jealous prosecutor of the Roman Catholics in the popish plot, and voted for Stafford's attainder, on the other hand interceding for Archbishop Plunket, implicated in the pretended Irish plot. He, however, refused to follow Shaftesbury in his extreme courses, declined participation in the latter's design to seize the Tower in 1682, and on Shaftesbury's consequent departure from England became the leader of Monmouth's faction, in which were now included Lord Russell, Algernon Sidney, and Lord Howard of Escrick. Essex took no part in the wilder schemes of the party, but after the discovery of the Rye House Plot in June 1683, and the capture of the leaders, he was arrested at Cashiobury and imprisoned in the Tower. His spirits and fortitude appear immediately to have abandoned him, and on the 13th of July he was discovered in his chamber with his throat cut. His death was attributed, quite groundlessly, to Charles and James, and the evidence points clearly if not conclusively to suicide, his motive being possibly to prevent an attainder and preserve his estate for his family. He was, however, undoubtedly a victim of the Stuart administration, and the antagonism and tragic end of men like Essex, deserving men, naturally devoted to the throne, constitutes a severe indictment of the Stuart rule.

He was a statesman of strong and sincere patriotism, just and unselfish, conscientious and laborious in the fulfilment of public duties, blameless in his official and private life. Evelyn describes him as "a sober, wise, judicious and pondering person, not illiterate beyond the rule of most noblemen in this age, very well versed in English history and affairs, industrious, frugal, methodical and every way accomplished"; and declares he was much deplored, few believing he had ever harboured any seditious designs.[6] He married Lady Elizabeth Percy, daughter of Algernon, 10th earl of Northumberland, by whom, besides a daughter, he had an only son Algernon (1670-1710), who succeeded him as 2nd earl of Essex.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.--See the Lives in the _Dict. of Nat. Biography_ and in _Biographia Britannica_ (Kippis), with authorities there collected; Essex's Irish correspondence is in the _Stow Collection_ in the British Museum, Nos. 200-217, and selections have been published in _Letters written by Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex_ (1770) and in the _Essex Papers_ (Camden Society, 1890), to which can now be added the _Calendars of State Papers, Domestic_, which contain a large number of his letters and which strongly support the opinion of his contemporaries concerning his unselfish patriotism and industry; see also _Somers Tracts_ (1813), x., and for other pamphlets relating to his death the catalogue of the British Museum.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] i.e. in the Capel line.

[2] _Hist. MSS. Comm. ser._; _Duke of Beaufort's MSS._ 45.

[3] _Life of Ormonde_, by T. Carte, viii. 468 (1851), vol. iv. p. 529.

[4] _Hist. MSS. Comm._ 7th Rep. app. 477b.

[5] _Ib._ 6th Rep. app. 741b.

[6] _Diary and Corresp._ (1850), ii. 141, 178.

ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 2ND[1] EARL OF (1566-1601), son of the 1st Devereux earl, was born at Netherwood, Herefordshire, on the 19th of November 1566. He entered the university of Cambridge and graduated in 1581. In 1585 he accompanied his stepfather, the earl of Leicester, on an expedition to Holland, and greatly distinguished himself at the battle of Zutphen. He now took his place at court, where so handsome a youth soon found favour with Queen Elizabeth, and in consequence was on bad terms with Raleigh. In 1587 he was appointed master of the horse, and in the following year was made general of the horse and installed knight of the Garter. On the death of Leicester he succeeded him as chief favourite of the queen, a position which injuriously affected his whole subsequent life, and ultimately resulted in his ruin. While Elizabeth was approaching the mature age of sixty, Essex was scarcely twenty-one. Though well aware of the advantages of his position, and somewhat vain of the queen's favour, his constant attendance on her at court was irksome to him beyond all endurance; and when he could not make his escape to the scenes of foreign adventure after which he longed, he varied the monotony of his life at court by intrigues with the maids of honour. He fought a duel with Sir Charles Blount, a rival favourite of the queen, in which the earl was disarmed and slightly wounded in the thigh.

In 1589, without the queen's consent, he joined the expedition of Drake and Sir John Norris against Spain, but in June he was compelled to obey a letter enjoining him at his "uttermost peril" to return immediately. In 1590 Essex married the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, but in dread of the queen's anger he kept the marriage secret as long as possible. When it was necessary to avow it, her rage at first knew no bounds, but as the earl did "use it with good temper," and "for her majesty's better satisfaction was pleased that my lady should live retired in her mother's house," he soon came to be "in very good favour." In 1591 he was appointed to the command of a force auxiliary to one formerly sent to assist Henry IV. of France against the Spaniards; but after a fruitless campaign he was finally recalled from the command in January 1592. For some years after this most of his time was spent at court, where he held a position of unexampled influence, both on account of the favour of the queen and from his own personal popularity. In 1596 he was, after a great many "changes of humour" on the queen's part, appointed along with Lord Howard of Effingham, Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard, to the command of an expedition, which was successful in defeating the Spanish fleet, capturing and pillaging Cadiz, and destroying 53 merchant vessels. It would seem to have been shortly after this exploit that the beginnings of a change in the feelings of the queen towards him came into existence. On his return she chided him that he had not followed up his successes, and though she professed great pleasure at again seeing him in safety, and was ultimately satisfied that the abrupt termination of the expedition was contrary to his advice and remonstrances, she forbade him to publish anything in justification of his conduct. She doubtless was offended at his growing tendency to assert his independence, and jealous of his increasing popularity with the people; but it is also probable that her strange infatuation regarding her own charms, great as it was, scarcely prevented her from suspecting either that his professed attachment had all along been somewhat alloyed with considerations of personal interest, or that at least it was now beginning to cool. Francis Bacon, at that time his most intimate friend, endeavoured to prevent the threatened rupture by writing him a long letter of advice; and although perseverance in a long course of feigned action was for Essex impossible, he for some time attended pretty closely to the hints of his mentor, so that the queen "used him most graciously." In 1597 he was appointed master of the ordnance, and in the following year he obtained command of an expedition against Spain, known as the Islands or Azores Voyage. He gained some trifling successes, but as the Plate fleet escaped him he failed of his main purpose; and when on his return the queen met him with the usual reproaches, he retired to his home at Wanstead. This was not what Elizabeth desired, and although she conferred on Lord Howard of Effingham the earldom of Nottingham for services at Cadiz, the main merit of which was justly claimed by Essex, she ultimately held out to the latter the olive branch of peace, and condescended to soothe his wounded honour by creating him earl marshal of England. That, nevertheless, the irritated feelings neither of Essex nor of the queen were completely healed was manifested shortly afterwards in a manner which set propriety completely at defiance. In a discussion on the appointment of a lord deputy to Ireland, Essex, on account of some taunting words of Elizabeth, turned his back upon her with a gesture indicative not only of anger but of contempt, and when she, unable to control her indignation, slapped him on the face, he left her presence swearing that such an insult he would not have endured even from Henry VIII.

In 1599, while Ulster was in rebellion under the earl of Tyrone, the office of lieutenant and governor-general of Ireland was conferred on Essex, and a large force put at his command. His campaign was an unsuccessful one, and by acting in various ways in opposition to the commands of the queen and the council, agreeing with Tyrone on a truce in September, and suddenly leaving the post of duty with the object of privately vindicating himself before the queen, he laid himself open to charges more serious than that of mere incompetency. For these misdemeanours he was brought in June 1600 before a specially constituted court, deprived of all his high offices, and ordered to live a prisoner in his own house during the queen's pleasure. Chiefly through the intercession of Bacon his liberty was shortly afterwards restored to him, but he was ordered not to return to court. For some time he hoped for an improvement in his prospects, but when he was refused the renewal of his patent for sweet wines, hope was succeeded by despair, and half maddened by wounded vanity, he made an attempt (Feb. 7, 1601) to incite a revolution in his behalf, by parading the streets of London with 300 retainers, and shouting, "For the queen! a plot is laid for my life!" These proceedings awakened, however, scarcely any other feelings than mild perplexity and wonder; and finding that hope of assistance from the citizens was vain, he returned to Essex House, where after defending himself for a short time he surrendered. After a trial--in which Bacon, who prosecuted, delivered a speech against his quondam friend and benefactor, the bitterness of which was quite unnecessary to secure a conviction entailing at least very severe punishment--he was condemned to death, and notwithstanding many alterations in Elizabeth's mood, the sentence was carried out on the 25th of February 1601.

Essex was in person tall and well proportioned, with a countenance which, though not strictly handsome, possessed, on account of its bold, cheerful and amiable expression, a wonderful power of fascination. He was a patron of literature, and himself a poet. His carriage was not very graceful, but his manners are said to have been "courtly, grave and exceedingly comely." He was brave, chivalrous, impulsive, imperious sometimes with his equals, but generous to all his dependants and incapable of secret malice; and these virtues, which were innate and which remained with him to the last, must be regarded as somewhat counterbalancing, in our estimation of him, the follies and vices created by temptations which were exceptionally strong.

See Hon. W.B. Devereux, _Lives of the Earls of Essex_ (1853); and _Bacon and Essex_, by E.A. Abbott (1877). Also the article BACON, FRANCIS, and authorities there.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] i.e. in the Devereux line.

ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 3RD[1] EARL OF (1591-1646), son of the preceding, was born in 1591. He was educated at Eton and at Merton College, Oxford. Shortly after the arrival of James I. in London, Essex (whose title was restored, and the attainder on his father removed, in 1604) was placed about the prince of Wales, as a sharer both in his studies and amusements. At the early age of fifteen he was married to Frances Howard, daughter of the earl of Suffolk, but she was his wife only in name; during his absence abroad (1607-1609) she fell in love with Sir Robert Carr (afterwards earl of Somerset), and on her charging her husband with physical incapacity, the marriage was annulled in 1613. A second marriage which he contracted in 1631 with Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Paulet, also ended unhappily. From 1620 to 1623 he served in the wars of the Palatinate, and in 1625 he was vice-admiral of a fleet which made an unsuccessful attempt to capture Cadiz. In 1639 he was lieutenant-general of the army sent by Charles against the Scottish Covenanters; but on account of the irresolution of the king no battle occurred, and the army was disbanded at the end of the year. Essex was discharged "without ordinary ceremony," and refused an office which at that time fell vacant, "all which," says Clarendon, "wrought very much upon his rough, proud nature, and made him susceptible of some impressions afterwards which otherwise would not have found such easy admission." Having taken the side of the parliament against Charles, he was, on the outbreak of the civil war in 1642, appointed to the command of the parliamentary army. At the battle of Edgehill he remained master of the field, and in 1643 he captured Reading, and relieved Gloucester; but in the campaign of the following year, on account of his hesitation to fight against the king in person, nearly his whole army fell into the hands of Charles. In 1645, on the passing of the self-denying ordinance, providing that no member of parliament should hold a public office, he resigned his commission; but on account of his past services his annuity of L10,000 was continued to him for life. He died on the 14th of September 1646, of a fever brought on by over-exertion in a stag-hunt in Windsor Forest; his line becoming extinct.

See the "Life of Robert Earl of Essex," by Robert Codrington, M.A., printed in _Hart. Misc._; Clarendon's _History of the Rebellion_, and Hon. W.B. Devereux, _Lives of the Earls of Essex_ (1853).

FOOTNOTE:

[1] i.e. in the Devereux line.

ESSEX, WALTER DEVEREUX, 1ST[1] EARL OF (1541-1576), the eldest son of Sir Richard Devereux, was born in 1541. His grandfather was the 2nd Baron Ferrers, who was created Viscount Hereford in 1550 and by his mother was a nephew of Henry Bourchier, a former earl of Essex. Walter Devereux succeeded as 2nd Viscount Hereford in 1558, and in 1561 or 1562 married Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys. In 1569 he served as high marshal of the field under the earl of Warwick and Lord Clinton, and materially assisted them in suppressing the northern insurrection. For his zeal in the service of Queen Elizabeth on this and other occasions, he in 1572 received the Garter and was created earl of Essex, the title which formerly belonged to the Bourchier family. Eager to give proof of "his good devotion to employ himself in the service of her majesty," he offered on certain conditions to subdue and colonize, at his own expense, a portion of the Irish province of Ulster, at that time completely under the dominion of the rebel O'Neills, under Sir Brian MacPhelim and Tirlogh Luineach, with the Scots under their leader Sorley Boy MacDonnell. His offer, with certain modifications, was accepted, and he set sail for Ireland in July 1573, accompanied by a number of earls, knights and gentlemen, and with a force of about 1200 men. The beginning of his enterprise was inauspicious, for on account of a storm which dispersed his fleet and drove some of his vessels as far as Cork and the Isle of Man, his forces did not all reach the place of rendezvous till late in the autumn, and he was compelled to entrench himself at Belfast for the winter. Here, by sickness, famine and desertions, his troops were diminished to little more than 200 men. Intrigues of various sorts, and fighting of a guerilla type, followed with disappointing results, and Essex had difficulties both with the deputy Fitzwilliam and with the queen. Essex was in straits himself, and his offensive movements in Ulster took the form of raids and brutal massacres among the O'Neills; in October 1574 he treacherously captured MacPhelim at a conference in Belfast, and after slaughtering his attendants had him and his wife and brother executed at Dublin. Elizabeth, instigated apparently by Leicester, after encouraging Essex to prepare to attack the Irish chief Tirlogh Luineach, suddenly commanded him to "break off his enterprise"; but, as she left him a certain discretionary power, he took advantage of it to defeat Tirlogh Luineach, chastise Antrim, and massacre several hundreds of Sorley Boy's following, chiefly women and children, discovered hiding in the caves of Rathlin. He returned to England in the end of 1575, resolved "to live henceforth an untroubled life"; but he was ultimately persuaded to accept the offer of the queen to make him earl marshal of Ireland. He arrived in Dublin in September 1576, and three weeks afterwards died of dysentery. There were suspicions that he had been poisoned by Leicester, who shortly after his death married his widow, but these were not confirmed by the post-mortem examination. The endeavours of Essex to better the condition of Ireland were a dismal failure; and the massacres of the O'Neills and of the Scots of Rathlin leave a dark stain on his reputation.

See Sidney Lee's article in the _Dict. Nat. Biog.; Lives of the Devereux Earls of Essex_, by Hon. Walter B. Devereux (1853); Froude's _History of England_, vol. x.; J.S. Brewer, _Athenaeum_ (1870), part i. pp. 261, 326.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] i.e. in the Devereux line.

ESSEX, an eastern county of England, bounded N. by Cambridgeshire and Suffolk, E. by the North Sea, S. by the Thames, dividing it from Kent, W. by the administrative county of London and by Hertfordshire. Its area is 1542 sq. m. Its configuration is sufficiently indicated by the direction of its rivers. Except that in the N.W. the county includes the heads of a few valleys draining northward to the Cam and so to the Great Ouse, all the streams, which are never of great size, run southward and eastward, either into the Thames, or into the North Sea by way of the broad, shallow estuaries which ramify through the flat coast lands. The highest ground lies consequently in the north-west, between the Cam basin and the rivers of the county. Its principal southward extension is that between the Lea (which with its tributary the Stort forms a great part of the western boundary) and the Roding, and east of the Roding valley. The other chief rivers may be specified according to their estuaries, following the coast northward from Shoeburyness at the Thames mouth. That of the Roach ramifies among several islands of which Foulness is the largest, but its main branch joins the Crouch estuary. Next follows the Blackwater, which receives the Chelmer, the Brain and other streams. Following a coast of numerous creeks and islets, with the large island of Mersea, the Colne estuary is reached. The Colne and Blackwater may be said to form one large estuary, as they enter the sea by a well-marked common mouth, 5 m. in width, between Sales Point and Colne Point. There is a great irregular inlet (Hamford Water) receiving no large stream, W. of the Naze promontory, and then the Stour, bounding the county on the north, joins its estuary to that of the Orwell near the sea. There are several seaside watering-places in favour owing to their proximity to London, of which Southend-on-Sea above the mouth of the Thames, Clacton-on-Sea, Walton-on-the-Naze, and Dovercourt adjoining Harwich are the chief. These and other stations on the estuaries are also in favour with yachtsmen. The sea has at some points seriously encroached upon the land within historic times. The low soft cliffs at various points are liable to give way against the waves; in other parts dykes and embankments are necessary to prevent inundation. Inland, that is apart from the flat coast-district, the country is pleasantly undulating and for the most part well wooded. It was formerly, indeed, almost wholly forested, the great Waltham Forest stretching from Colchester to the confines of London. Of this a fragment is preserved in Epping Forest (see EPPING) between the Lea and the Roding. On the other side of the Roding Hainault Forest is traceable, but was disafforested in 1851. The oak is the principal tree; a noteworthy example was that of Fairlop in Hainault, which measured 45 ft. in girth, but was blown down in 1820.

_Geology._--The geological structure of the county is very simple: the greater part is occupied by the London clay with underlying Reading beds and Thanet sands, with here and there small patches of Bagshot gravels on elevated tracts, as at High Beech, Langdon Hill, Brentwood and Rayleigh; and occasionally the same beds are represented by the large boulder-like Sarsen stones on the lower ground. In the north, the chalk, which underlies the Tertiary strata over the whole county, appears at the surface and forms the downs about Saffron Walden, Birdbrook and Great Yeldham; it is brought up again by a small disturbance at Grays Thurrock where it is quarried on a large scale for lime, cement and whiting. Small patches of Pleistocene Red Crag rest upon the Eocene strata at Beaumont and Oakley, and are very well exposed at Walton-on-the-Naze where they are very fossiliferous. Most of the county is covered by a superficial deposit of glacial drifts, sands, gravel and in places boulder clay, as at Epping, Dunmow and Hornchurch where the drift lies beneath the Thames gravel. An interesting feature in relation to the glacial drift is a deep trough in the Cam valley revealed by borings to be no less than 340 ft. deep at Newport; this ancient valley is filled with drift. In the southern part of the county are broad spreads of gravel and brick earth, formed by the Thames; these have been excavated for brick-making and building purposes about Ilford, Romford and Grays, and have yielded the remains of hippopotamus, rhinoceros and mammoth. More recent alluvial deposits are found in the valley at Walthamstow and Tilbury, in which the remains of the beaver have been discovered.

The roads of this county with a clay soil foundation were for generations repaired with flints picked by women and children from the surface of the fields. Gravel is difficult of access. With the exception of chalk for lime (mainly obtained at Ballingdon in the north and Grays in the south), septaria for making cement, and clay for bricks, the underground riches of the county are meagre.

_Agriculture._--As an agricultural county Essex ranks high. Some four-fifths of the total area is under cultivation, and about one-third of that area is in permanent pasture. Wheat, barley and oats, in that relative order, are the principal grain crops, Essex being one of the chief grain-producing counties. The wheat and barley are in particularly high favour, the wheat of various standard species being exported for seed purposes, while the barley is especially useful in malting. Beans and peas are largely grown, as are vegetables for the London market. Hop-growing was once important. From the comparative dryness of the climate Essex does not excel in pasturage, and winter grazing receives the more attention. The numbers of cattle increase steadily, and store bullocks are introduced in large numbers from Norfolk, Lincolnshire, Ireland and Wales. Of sheep there are but few distinct flocks, and the numbers decrease. Pigs are generally of a high-class Berkshire type.

_Other Industries._--The south-west of the county, being contiguous to London, is very densely populated, and is the seat of large and varied industries. For example, there are numbers of chemical works, the extensive engine shops and works of the Great Eastern railway at Stratford, government powder works in the vicinity of Waltham Abbey, and powder stores at Purfleet on the Thames. The extensive water-works for east London, by the Lea near Walthamstow, may also be mentioned. The docks at Plaistow and Tilbury on the Thames employ many hands. Apart from this industrial district, there are considerable engineering works, especially for agricultural implements, at Chelmsford, Colchester and elsewhere; several silk works, as at Braintree and Halstead; large breweries, as at Brentwood, Chelmsford and Romford; and lime and cement works at Grays Thurrock. The oyster-beds of the Colne produce the famous Colchester natives, and there are similar beds in the Crouch and Roach, for which Burnham-on-Crouch is the centre; and in the Blackwater (Maldon).

_Communications._--Railway communications are supplied principally by the Great Eastern railway, of which the main line runs by Stratford, Ilford, Romford, Brentwood, Chelmsford, Witham, Colchester, and Manningtree. The Cambridge and northern line of this company, following the Lea valley, does not touch the county until it diverges along the valley of the Stort. The chief branches are those to Southend and Burnham, Witham to Maldon, Colchester to Brightlingsea, to Clacton and to Walton, and Manningtree to Harwich, on the coast; and Witham to Braintree and Bishop's Stortford, and Mark's Tey to Sudbury and beyond, inland; while there are several branch lines among the manufacturing and residential suburbs in the south-west, to Walthamstow and Buckhurst Hill, Chigwell, Loughton, Epping, Ongar, &c. The London, Tilbury & Southend railway, following the Thames, serves the places named, and the Colne Valley railway runs from Chappel junction near Mark's Tey by Halstead to Haverhill.

On the Thames, besides the great docks at Plaistow (Victoria and Albert) and the deep-water docks at Tilbury, the principal calling places for vessels are Grays, Purfleet and Southend, while Barking on the Roding has also shipping trade, and the Lea affords important water-connexions. Elsewhere, the principal port is Harwich, at the mouth of the Stour, one of the chief ports of England for European passenger traffic. Other towns ranking as lesser estuarine ports are: Brightlingsea and Wivenhoe on the Colne, forming a member of the Cinque Port of Sandwich; Colchester, Maldon on the Blackwater, and Burnham-on-Crouch. The Stour, Chelmer, and Lea and Stort are the principal navigable inland waterways.

_Population and Administration._--The area of the ancient county is 986,975 acres, with a population in 1891 of 785,445 and in 1901 of 1,085,771. The area of the administrative county is 979,532 acres. The county contains nineteen hundreds. It is divided into eight parliamentary divisions, and it also includes the parliamentary boroughs of Colchester and West Ham, the latter consisting of two divisions. Each of these returns one member. The county divisions are--Northern or Saffron Walden, North-eastern or Harwich, Eastern or Maldon, Western or Epping, Mid or Chelmsford, South-eastern, Southern or Romford, South-western or Walthamstow, returning one member each. The municipal boroughs are--Chelmsford (12,580), Colchester (38,373), East Ham (96,018), Harwich (10,070), Maldon(5565), Saffron Walden (5896), Southend-on-Sea (28,857), and one county borough, West Ham (267,358). The following are the other urban districts--Barking Town (21,547), Braintree (5330), Brentwood (4932), Brightlingsea (4501), Buckhurst Hill (4786), Burnham-on-Crouch (2919), Chingford (4373), Clacton (7456), Epping (3789), Frinton-on-Sea (644), Grays Thurrock (13,834), Halstead (6073), Ilford (41,234), Leigh-on-Sea (3667), Leyton (98,912), Loughton (4730), Romford (13,656), Shoeburyness (4081), Waltham Holy Cross (6549), Walthamstow (95,131), Walton-on-the-Naze (2014), Wanstead (9179), Witham (3454), Wivenhoe (2560), Woodford (13,798). Essex is in the South-eastern circuit, and assizes are held at Chelmsford. The boroughs of Harwich and Southend-on-Sea have separate commissions of the peace, and the boroughs of Colchester, Maldon, Saffron Walden and West Ham have, in addition, separate courts of quarter sessions. The county is ecclesiastically within the diocese of St Albans (with a small portion within that of Ely) and is divided into two archdeaconries; containing 452 parishes or districts wholly or in part. There are 399 civil parishes.

There is a military station and depot for recruits at Warley, and a garrison at Tilbury. At Shoeburyness there are a school of gunnery and an extensive ground for testing government artillery of the largest calibre.

_History_ (see also below under ESSEX, KINGDOM OF).--ESSEX probably originated as a shire in the time of Aethelstan. According to the Domesday Survey it comprised nineteen hundreds, corresponding very closely in extent and in name with those of the present day. The additional half-hundred of Thunreslan on the Suffolk border has disappeared; Witbrictesherna is now Dengie; and the liberty of Havering-atte-Bower appears to have been taken out of Becontree. Essex and Hertfordshire were under one sheriff until the time of Elizabeth. At the time of the Survey Count Eustace held a vast fief in Essex, and the court of the Honour of Boulogne was held at Witham. Bentry Heath in Dagenham, Hundred Heath in Tendring and Castle Hedingham in Hinckford were the meeting-places of their respective hundreds. The stewardship of the forest of Essex was held by the earls of Oxford until deprived of it for adherence to the Lancastrian cause. In 1421 certain parts of Essex inherited by Henry V. from his mother were brought under the jurisdiction of the duchy of Lancaster.

Essex was part of the see of London from the time of the foundation of the bishopric in the 7th century. The archdeaconries are first mentioned in 1108; that of Essex extended over the south of the county and in 1291 included eight deaneries; the north of the county was divided between the archdeaconries of Middlesex and Colchester, comprising three and six deaneries respectively. Colchester was constituted a suffragan bishopric by Henry VIII. In 1836 Essex was transferred to the diocese of Rochester, with the exception of nine parishes which remained in London. In 1845 the archdeacon of Middlesex ceased to exercise control in Essex, and the deaneries were readjusted. In 1875 Essex was transferred to the newly created diocese of St Albans, and in 1877 the archdeaconry of Essex was subdivided into eighteen deaneries and that of Colchester into sixteen.

Owing to its proximity to the capital Essex was intimately associated with all the great historical struggles. The nobility of Essex took a leading part in the struggle for the charter, and of the twenty-four guardians of the charter, four were Essex barons. The castles of Pleshey, Colchester, and Hedingham were held against the king in the Barons' War of the reign of Henry III., and 5000 Essex men joined the peasant rising of 1381. During the Wars of the Roses the Lancastrian cause was supported by the de Veres, while the Bourchiers and Lord Fitz-Walter were among the Yorkist leaders. Several Essex men were concerned in the Gunpowder Plot, and in the Civil War of the 17th century the county rendered valuable aid to the parliament.

After the Conquest no Englishman retained estates in Essex of any importance, and the chief lay barons at the time of the Survey were Geoffrey de Mandeville and Aubrey de Vere. The de Veres, earls of Oxford, were continuously connected with the county until the extinction of the title two centuries ago. Pleshey was the stronghold of the Mandevilles, and, although the house became extinct in 1189, its descendants in the female line retained the title of earls of Essex. The Honour of Hatfield Peverel held by Ranulf Peverel after the Conquest escheated to the crown in the reign of Henry I., and in the same reign the fief of Robert Gernon passed to the house of Mountfichet.

Essex has always been mainly an agricultural county, and the ordinary agricultural pursuits were carried on at the time of the Domesday Survey, which also mentions salt-making, wine-making, bee-culture and cheese-making, while the oyster fisheries have been famous from the earliest historic times. The woollen industry dates back to Saxon times, and for many centuries ranked as the most important industry. Cloth-weaving was introduced in the 14th century, and in the 16th century Colchester was noted for its "bays and says." Colchester also possessed a valuable leather industry in the 16th century, at which period Essex was considered an exceptionally wealthy and prosperous county; Norden, writing in 1594, describes it as "moste fatt, frutefull, and full of all profitable things." The decline of the cloth industry in the 17th century caused great distress, but a number of smaller industries began to take its place. Saffron-culture and silk-weaving were extensively carried on in the 17th century, and the 18th century saw the introduction of the straw-plait industry, potash-making, calico-printing, malting and brewing, and the manufacture of Roman cement.

The county returned four members to parliament in 1290. From 1295 it returned two members for the county and two for Colchester. Maldon acquired representation in 1331 and Harwich in 1604. Under the Reform Act of 1832 the county returned four members in four divisions. Under the Representation of the People Act of 1868 Maldon and Harwich each lost one member, and the county returned six members in three divisions.

_Antiquities._--It is supposed by many antiquaries that Saxon masonry can be detected in the foundations of several of the Essex churches, but, with the exception of Ashingdon church tower, believed to have been erected by Canute after his victory over Edmund Ironside, there is no obviously recognizable building belonging to that period. This is probably to be in part ascribed to the fact that the comparative scarcity of stone and the unusual abundance of timber led to the extensive employment of the latter material. Several of the Essex churches, as Blackmore, Mountnessing, Margaretting, and South Benfleet, have massive porches and towers of timber; and St Andrew's church, Greenstead, with its walls of solid oak, continues an almost unique example of its kind. Of the four round churches in England one is in Essex at Little Maplestead; it is both the smallest and the latest. The churches of South Weald, Hadleigh, Blackmore, Heybridge and Hadstock may be mentioned as containing Norman work; with the church of Castle Hedingham for its fine Transitional work; Southchurch, Danbury and Boreham as being partly Early English; Ingatestone, Stebbing and Tilty for specimens of Decorated architecture; and Messing, Thaxted, Saffron Walden, and the church of St Peter ad Vincula at the small town of Coggeshall, near Colchester, as specimens of Perpendicular. Stained glass windows have left their traces in several of the churches, the finest remains being those of Margaretting, which represent a tree of Jesse and the daisy or herb Margaret. Paintings have evidently been largely used for internal decoration: a remarkable series, probably of the 12th century, but much restored in the 14th, exists in the chancel of Copford church; and in the church at Ingatestone there was discovered in 1868 an almost unique fresco representation of the seven deadly sins. The oldest brasses preserved in the county are those of Sir William Fitz-Ralph at Pebmarsh, about 1323; Richard of Beltown, at Corringham, 1340; Sir John Gifford, at Bowers Gifford, 1348; Ralph de Kneyton, at Aveley, 1370; Robert de Swynbourne, at Little Horkesley, 1391; and Sir Ingelram de Bruyn, at South Ockendon, 1400. The brass of Thomas Heron, aged 14, at Little Ilford, though dating only from 1517, is of interest as a picture of a schoolboy of the period. Ancient wooden effigies are preserved at Danbury, Little Leighs and Little Horkesley.

Essex was rich in monastic foundations, though the greater number have left but meagre ruins behind. The Benedictines had an abbey at Saffron Walden, nunneries at Barking and Wickes, and priories at Earl's or Monk's Colne and Castle Hedingham; the Augustinian canons had an abbey at Waltham (see WALTHAM ABBEY; the portion remaining shows Norman work of the finest character), priories at Thoby, Blackmore, Bicknacre, Little Leighs, Little Dunmow and St Osyth (see BRIGHTLINGSEA); there were Cistercian abbeys at Coggeshall, Stratford and Tilty; the Cluniac monks were settled at Prittlewell, the Premonstratensians at Beleigh Abbey, and the Knights Hospitallers at Little Maplestead. Barking Abbey is said to date its first origin from the 7th century; most of the others arose in the 12th and 13th centuries. Besides the keep at Colchester there is a fine Norman castle at Castle Hedingham, and two dilapidated round towers still stand at Hadleigh near Southend. Ongar, the house of the de Lacys, and Pleshey, the seat of the earls of Essex, have left only mounds. Havering-atte-Bower, the palace that was occupied by many queens, is replaced by a modern house; Wickham, the mansion of the bishops of London, no longer stands. New Hall, which was successively occupied by Henry VIII., Elizabeth, the earl of Essex, George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, and Cromwell, is now a nunnery of the order of the Holy Sepulchre. Audley End, the mansion of Lord Braybrooke, is a noble example of the domestic architecture of the Jacobean period; Layer Marney is an interesting proof of the Italian influences that were at work in the time of Wolsey. Horeham Hall was built by Sir John Cutt in the reign of Henry VII., and Gosfield Hall is of about the same date.

See Norden, _Speculi Britanniae Pars: an Hist. and Geogr. Descrip. of the County of Essex_ (1594) (edited for the Camden Society by Sir Henry Ellis, 1840, from the original MS. in the Marquis of Salisbury's library at Hatfield); Nicholas Tindal, _Hist. of Essex_ (1720); N. Salmon, _The Hist. and Antiq. of Essex_ (London, 1740)--based on the collections of James Strangman of Hadleigh (v. _Trans. of Essex Arch. Soc._ vol. ii.); P. Morant, _Hist. and Antiq. of the County of Essex_ (London, 1768); P. Muilman, _New and Complete Hist. of Essex from a late Survey, by a Gentleman_ (Chelmsford, 6 vols., 1770-1772, London, 1779); Elizabeth Ogbourne, _Hist. of Essex_ (London, part i., 1814); _Excursions through Essex, illustrated with one hundred engravings_ (2 vols., London, 1818); T. Wright, _Hist. and Topography of Essex_ (1831); W. Berry, _Pedigrees of Families in Essex_ (1841); A. Suckling, _Memorials of the Antiquities, &c., of the County of Essex_ (London, 1845); W. Andrews (ed.), _Bygone Essex_ (London, 1892); J.T. Page (ed.), _Essex in the Days of Old_ (London, 1898); _Victoria County History, Essex; Transactions of the Essex Arch. Soc._ from 1858. An account of various MS. collections connected with the county is given by H.W. King in vol. ii. of the _Transactions_ (1863).

ESSEX, KINGDOM OF, one of the kingdoms into which Anglo-Saxon Britain was divided, properly the land of the East Saxons. Of its origin and early history we have no record except the bare statement of Bede that its settlers were of the Old Saxon race. In connexion with this it is interesting to notice that the East Saxon dynasty claimed descent from Seaxneat, not Woden. The form Seaxneat is identical with Saxnot, one of three gods mentioned in a short continental document probably of Old Saxon origin. Bede does not mention this kingdom in his narrative until 604, the year of the consecration of Mellitus to the see of London. The boundaries of Essex were in later times the rivers Stour and Thames, but the original limits of the kingdom are quite uncertain; towards the west it probably included most if not the whole of Hertfordshire, and in the 7th century the whole of Middlesex. In 604 we find Essex in close dependence upon Kent, being ruled by Saberht, sister's son of Aethelberht, under whom the East Saxons received Christianity. The three sons of Saberht, however, expelled Mellitus from his see, and even after their death in battle against the West Saxons, Eadbald of Kent was unable to restore him. In the year 653 we find North-umbrian influence paramount in Essex, for King Sigeberht at the instance of Oswio became a Christian and received Cedd, the brother of St Chad, in his kingdom as bishop, Tilbury and _Ythanceastere_ (on the Blackwater) being the chief scenes of his work. Swithhelm, the successor of Sigeberht, was on terms of friendship with the East Anglian royal house, King Aethelwald being his sponsor at his baptism by Cedd. It was probably about this time that Erconwald, afterwards bishop of London, founded the monastery of Barking. Swithhelm's successors Sigehere and Sebbe were dependent on Wulfhere, the powerful king of Mercia, who on the apostasy of Sigehere sent Bishop Jaruman to restore the faith. There are grounds for believing that an East Saxon conquest of Kent took place in this reign. A forged grant of Ceadwalla speaks of the fall of Kent before Sigehere as a well-known event; and in a Kentish charter dated 676 a king of Kent called Swebhard grants land with the consent of his father King Sebbe. In 692 or 694 Sebbe abdicated and received the monastic vows from Waldhere, the successor of Erconwald at London. His sons Sigeheard and Swefred succeeded him as kings of Essex, Sigehere being apparently dead. As the laws of Ine of Wessex speak of Erconwald as "my bishop," it is possible that the influence of Wessex for a short time prevailed in Essex; but a subsequent charter of Swefred is approved by Coenred of Mercia, and Offa, the son of Sigehere, accompanied the same king to Rome in 709. From this time onwards the history of Essex is almost a blank. In 743 or 745 Aethelbald of Mercia is found granting privileges at the port of London, and perhaps the western portion of the kingdom had already been annexed, for henceforward London is frequently the meeting-place of the Mercian council. The violent death of Selred, king of Essex, is mentioned in the _Saxon Chronicle_ under the year 746; but we have no more information of historical importance until the defeat of the Mercian king Beornwulf in 825, when Essex, together with Kent, Sussex and Surrey, passed into the hands of Ecgbert, king of Wessex. After 825 we hear of no more kings of Essex, but occasionally of earls. About the year 870 Essex passed into the hands of the Danes and was left to them by the treaty between Alfred and Guthrum. It was reconquered by Edward the Elder. The earldom in the 10th century apparently included several other counties, and its most famous holder was the ealdorman Brihtnoth, who fell at the battle of Maldon in 991.

The following is a list of kings of Essex of whom there is record: Saberht (d. c. 617); three sons of Saberht, including probably Saweard and Seaxred; Sigeberht (Parvus); Sigeberht II.; Swithhelm (d. c. 664); Sigehere (reigned perhaps 664-689); Sebbe, son of Seaxred (664-694); Sigeheard (reigning in 693-694); Swefred (reigning in 693-694 and in 704); the two last being sons of Sebbe; Swebriht (d. 738); Selred (d. 746); Swithred, grandson of Sigeheard (succ. 746); Sigeric, son of Selered (abd. 798); Sigered, son of Sigeric (reigning in 823).

See Bede, _Hist. Eccl._, edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1896), ii. 3, 5; _Saxon Chronicle_ (Earle and Plummer, Oxford, 1899), _s.a._ 823, 894, 904, 913, 921, 994; William of Malmesbury, _Gesta Regum_, Rolls Series (ed. Stubbs, 1887-1889); _Simeon of Durham, s.a._ 746 (ed. T. Arnold, 1882) and appendix, _s.a._ 738; Florence of Worcester (ed. B. Thorpe, London, 1848-1849); H. Sweet, _Oldest English Texts_, p. 179 (London, 1885). (F. G. M. B.)

ESSLINGEN, a town of Germany, in the kingdom of Wurttemberg, in a fertile district on the Neckar, 9 m. S.E. from Stuttgart, on the railway to Ulm. Pop. (1905) 29,750. It is surrounded by medieval walls with towers and bastions, and has thirteen suburbs, one lying on an island in the river. On a commanding height above the town lies the old citadel. The inner town has an old (1430) and a new Rathaus, the latter, formerly a palace, an exceedingly handsome edifice. The church of Our Lady (Frauenkirche) is a fine Gothic building of the 15th century, and has a beautifully sculptured doorway and a lattice spire 240 ft. high. The church of St Dionysius dated from the 13th century, and possesses a fine screen and a ciborium of 1486. Esslingen possesses several schools, a theatre and a richly endowed hospital, while its municipal archives contain much valuable literature bearing especially on the period of the Reformation. The town has railway, machine and electrical works; cloth, gloves and buttons are also manufactured here, and there are spinning-mills. There is a large lithographic establishment, and a considerable trade is done in wine and fruit, the wines of Esslingen being very famous.

Esslingen, which dates from the 8th century, became a town in 886. It was soon a place of importance; it became a free imperial city in 1209 and was surrounded with walls by order of the emperor Frederick II. Its liberty was frequently threatened by the rulers of Wurttemberg, but it did not become part of that country until 1802.

See K.H.S. Pfaff, _Geschichte der Reichsstadt Esslingen_ (Esslingen, 1852); and Strohmfeld, _Esslingen in Wort und Bild_ (Esslingen, 1902).

ESTABLISHMENT (O. Fr. _establissement_, Fr. _etablissement_, late Norm. Fr. _establishement_, from O. Fr. _establir_, Fr. _etablir_, Lat. _stabilire_, to make stable), generally the act of establishing or fact of being established, and so by transference a thing established. Thus we may speak of the establishment (i.e. setting up) of a business, the "long establishment" of a business, and of the manager of "the establishment." In a special sense the word is applied, with something of all the three above-mentioned connotations, to certain religious bodies in their relation to the state. It is with this latter that the present article is concerned.

Perhaps the best definition which can be given, and which will cover all cases, is that establishment implies the existence of some definite and distinctive relation between the state and a religious society (or conceivably more than one) other than that which is shared in by other societies of the same general character. Of course, a certain relationship must needs exist between the state and every society, religious or secular, by virtue of the sovereignty of the state over each and all of its members. Every society must possess certain principles or perform certain acts, and the state may make the profession of such principles unlawful, or impose a penalty upon the performance of such acts; and, moreover, every society is liable before the law as to the fulfilment of its obligations towards its members and the due administration of its property should it possess any. With all this establishment has nothing to do. It is not concerned with what pertains to the religious society _qua_ society, or with what is common to all religious societies, but with what is exceptional. It denotes any special connexion with the state, or privileges and responsibilities before the law, possessed by one religious society to the exclusion of others; in a word, establishment is of the nature of a monopoly. But it does not imply merely privilege. The state and the Church have mutual obligations towards one another: each is, to some extent, tied by the existence of this relationship, and each accepts the limitations for the sake of the advantages which accrue to itself. The state does so in view of what it believes to be the good of all its members; for "the true end for which religion is established is not to provide for the true faith, but for civil utility" (Warburton), even if the latter be held to be implied in the former. On the other hand, the Church accepts these relations for the facilities which they involve, i.e. for its own benefit. It will be seen that this definition excludes, and rightly, many current presuppositions. Establishment affirms the _fact_, but does not determine the precise _nature_, of the connexion between the state and the religious society. It does not tell us, for example, when or how it began, whether it is the result of an unconscious growth (as with the Gallican Church previous to the French Revolution), or of a determinate legislative act (as with the same Church re-established by the Concordat of 1801). It does not tell us whether an endowment of the religious society by the state is included; what particular privileges are enjoyed by the religious society; and what limitations are placed upon the free exercise of its life. These things can only be ascertained by actual inquiry; for the conditions are precisely similar in no two cases.

To proceed to details. At the present day there is no established religion in the United States, the German empire as a whole, Holland, Belgium, France and Austria-Hungary (saving, indeed, "the rights of the sovereign arising from ecclesiastical dignity"[1]); whereas there are religious establishments in Russia, Greece, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Prussia,[2] Spain, Portugal and even in Italy, as well as in England and Scotland. These, however, differ greatly amongst themselves. In Russia the "Orthodox Catholic Eastern" is the state religion. The emperor is, by the fundamental laws of the empire, "the sovereign defender and protector of the dogmas of the dominant faith, who maintains orthodoxy and holy discipline within the Church," although, of course, he cannot modify either its dogmas or its outward order. Further, "the autocratic (i.e. imperial) power acts in the ecclesiastical administration by means of the Most Holy Ruling Synod, created by it"; and all the officers of the Church are appointed by it. The enactments of the Synod do not become law till they have received the emperor's sanction, and are then published, not in its name but in his; and a large part of the revenues of the Church is derived from state subsidies. In Greece "the dominant religion ([Greek: Eh epikratousa threskeia]) is that of the Eastern Orthodox Church of Christ"; and although toleration is otherwise complete, no proselytism from the Church of Greece is allowed. The king swears to protect it, but no powers pertain to him with regard to it such as those which the tsar enjoys; the present king is not a member of it, but his successors must be. In Sweden, Lutheranism was adopted as the state religion by the synod of Upsala (_Upsala mote_) in 1593, and the king must profess it. The "Lutheran Protestant Church" retains an episcopal order, and is supported out of its own revenues. Archbishops and bishops are chosen by the king out of those names submitted to him, and he also nominates to royal peculiars. The ecclesiastical law (_Kyrkolag_), first constituted in 1686, is part of the law of the state, but may not be modified or abrogated without consent of a General Synod; and although _ad interim_ interpretations of that law may be given by the king on the advice of the Supreme Court, since 1866 these have been subject to review and rejection by the next General Synod. In Norway the "Evangelical-Lutheran" is the "official religion," but the Church is supported by the state, its property having been secularized. It is also more subject to the king, who by the constitution is to "regulate all that concerns divine service and the clergy," and to see that the prescribed order is carried out. It is much the same in Denmark, where, however, the "Evangelical-Lutheran Church" has since the fundamental constitutional law of the 5th of June 1849 been officially described as the National Church (_Folkekirche_) instead of the State Church (_Statskirche_) as formerly, and the constitution provides for its regulation by further legislation, which has not yet been passed. For Prussia, see under that heading; it need only be added that self-government still tends to increase, but that the emperor William II. has exercised his office as _summus episcopus_ more freely than most of his predecessors. In Spain the "Catholic, Apostolic and Roman" religion is that of the state, "the nation binds itself to maintain its worship and its ministers," and the rites of any other religion are only permitted in private. The patriarch of the Indies and the archbishops are senators by right, and the king may nominate others from amongst the bishops; only laymen may sit in the chamber of deputies. Convents were suppressed, and their property confiscated, in 1835 and 1836; in 1859 the remaining ecclesiastical property was exchanged for untransferable government securities and the support of the clergy of the State Church is assured by an unrepealed law previous to the present constitution. In Portugal it is much the same, but all the home bishops sit in the upper chamber as peers (_Pares do Reino_) by right, and there is no restriction on membership of the chamber of deputies. A more important point is that the king confers all ecclesiastical benefices and nominates the bishops, instead of their being chosen, as in Spain, by agreement between the civil power and the papacy. In Italy, in spite of the feud between the papacy and the civil power, the fact remains that, by the _Statuto fondamentale_, "the Catholic, Apostolic and Roman religion is the sole religion of the state," and the king may nominate "archbishops and bishops of the state" to be senators. The _Legge sulle prerogative del Summo Pontifice_, &c., or "Law of Guarantees," by which the papal prerogatives are secured, has been declared by the Council of State to be a fundamental law; and while many civil restrictions upon the activities of the Church are removed by it, outside Rome and the suburbicarian dioceses the royal _exequatur_ is still required before a bishop is installed. Moreover, the bulk of Church property having been secularized, the Italian clergy receive a stipend from the state.

Church and State in Britain.

Establishment is, of course, a distinctively English term, but it implies precisely the same thing as "Staatsreligion" or "eglise dominante" does elsewhere, neither more nor less. It denotes the existence of a special relationship between Church and state without defining its precise nature. The statement that the Church of England or the Scottish Kirk is "established by law" denotes that it has a peculiar status before the law; but that is all. (a) There is no basis whatever for the once popular assumption that the word "established" as applied to the Church means "created," or the like; on the contrary, the modern use of the word in this sense is a misleading perversion. To _establish_ is to make firm or stable; and a thing cannot be established unless it is already in existence. A few examples will make it clear that this is the true sense of the word, and that in which it is used here. "Stablish the thing, O God, that thou hast wrought in us" (Ps. lxviii. 28, P.B.; A.V. and R.V. "strengthen") implies that the thing is already wrought; it could not be "stablished" else. "Stablish your hearts" (Jas v. 8) implies that the hearts are already in existence. "Until he had her settled in her raine With safe assuraunce and establishment" (_Faerie Queene_, v. xi. 35) would have been impossible unless the reign had already begun. This is the meaning of the words in many Tudor acts of parliament, "be it enacted, ordained and established," or the like (21 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 27 Hen. VIII. c. 28, s. 9; 28 Hen. VIII. c. 13 [Ireland]; 28 Hen. VIII. c. 18 [Ireland]; 33 Hen. VIII. c. 27; 1 Eliz. c. 1, ss. 15, 17; 1 Eliz. c. 4, s. 4); that which is then and there enacted is to be valid for the future. (b) Nor is it necessarily implied that establishment is a process completed once for all. Every law touching the Church slightly alters its conditions; everything that affects the relations of Church and state may be regarded as a measure of establishment or the reverse. When the two Houses of Parliament, in an address to William III. after his coronation, spoke of their proposed measures of toleration, the king said in his reply, "I do hope that the ease which you design to Dissenters will contribute very much to the establishment of the Church" (Cobbett, _Parl. Hist._ v. 218). And Defoe (in 1702) published an ironical tract with the title, _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters, or Proposals for the Establishment of the Church_. (c) Nor is it necessarily implied that there was any specific time at which establishment took place. Such may indeed be the case, as with the Kirk in Scotland; but it certainly cannot be said that the English Church was established at any particular time, or by any particular legislative act. There were, no doubt, periods when the existing relations between Church and state were modified or re-defined, notably in the 16th and 17th centuries; but the relations themselves are far older. In fact, they existed from the very first: the English Church and state grew up side by side, and from the beginning they were in close relations with one another. But although the state of things which it represented was there from the first, the term "established" or "established by law" only came into use at a later date. Until there was some other religious society to be compared with it such a distinctive epithet would have had no point. As, however, there arose religious societies which had no status before the law, it became more natural; and yet more so when the formularies of the Church came to be "established" by civil sanctions (the Books of Common Prayer by 5 and 6 Edw. VI. c. 1, s. 4, &c; the Articles by 13 Eliz. c. 12; the new Ordinal by 13 and 14 Car. II. c. 4, title). Accordingly the Church itself came to be spoken of as established by law; first, it would seem, in the Canons of 1604, and subsequently in many statutes (Act of Settlement, 6 Anne, c. 8 and c. 11, &c). In all such cases the Church is described as already established, not as being established by the particular canon or statute. In other words, the constitutional status of the Church is affirmed, but nothing is said as to how it arose.

The legislative changes of the 16th and 17th centuries brought "establishment" into greater prominence and greatly modified its conditions, but a moment's thought will show that it did not begin then. If, e.g., all post-Reformation ecclesiastical statutes were non-existent, the relations between Church and state would be very different, but there would still be an "establishment." The bishops would sit in the House of Lords, the clergy would tax themselves in convocation, the Church courts would possess coercive jurisdiction, and so on. The present relations of Church and state in England may be briefly summed up as follows:--(1) _The personal relation of the crown to the Church_, including (a) restraints upon the action of convocation (formulated by 25 Hen. VIII. c. 19); (b) nomination of bishops, &c. (25 Hen. VIII. c. 20); (c) power of supervision as visitor, long disused (26 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 1 Eliz. c. 1, s. 17); (d) power of receiving appeals as the fount of civil justice (25 Hen. VIII. c. 19, &c). In connexion with these, it must be borne in mind that (a) the holder of the crown receives coronation from the church and takes an oath having reference to it (1 Will. III. c. 6), and (b) the crown is held on the condition of communion with the Church of England (Act of Settlement; the conditions of communion are laid down in the Prayer Book, which itself is sanctioned by law). (2) _The relation of the Church to the crown in parliament._ No change has been permitted in its doctrine or formularies without the sanction of an act of parliament. (3) _Privileges of the Church and clergy._ Of these may be mentioned (a) the coercive jurisdiction of the Church courts; (b) the right of bishops to sit in the House of Lords. It need hardly be said that establishment in England does not include an endowment of the Church by the state. Nothing of the kind ever took place on any large scale, and the grants for Church purposes in the 18th century are comparable with the _regium donum_ to Nonconformists.

The position of the Church of Ireland until its disestablishment (see below) was not dissimilar. With Scotland the case is different. The establishment of the Kirk was an entirely new process, carried out by a more or less definite series of legislative and administrative acts. The Convention of Estates which met at Edinburgh in 1560 ordered the drawing up of a new Confession of Faith, which was done in four days by a committee of preachers, and on the 24th of August it passed three acts, one abolishing the pope's authority and all jurisdiction of Catholic prelates, another repealing the old statutes in favour of the Old Church, the third forbidding the celebrating and hearing of mass under penalty of imprisonment, exile and death. The intention was to make a clean sweep of the Old Church, which was denounced as "the Kirk Malignant."[3] The new model thus set up was confirmed by the Scottish act of 1567, c. 6, which declared it to be "the onely true and halie kirk of Jesus Christ within this realme." Again, after the revolution of 1688 had put an end to the attempts of the Stuart kings to impose the episcopal model on Scotland, by the act of 1690, c. 5, the crown and estates "ratifie and establish the Confession of Faith, ... as also they do establish, ratifie and confirm the Presbyterian government and discipline." The "Act of Security" of 1705, as incorporated in the Act of Union 1706, speaking of it "as now by law established," says that "Her Majesty ... doth hereby establish and confirm" it, and finally declares this act, "with the Establishment therein contained," to be "a fundamental and essential condition of the Union." Nevertheless, the conditions of establishment in the Scottish Kirk are much easier than those of the Church of England. It is bound by the statutes sanctioning its doctrine and order, but within these limits its legislative and judicial freedom is unimpaired. A royal commissioner is present at the meetings of the general assembly, but he need not be a member of the Kirk; and there is no constitutional tie between the crown and the Kirk such as there is in England. There is what may accurately be described as a state endowment, the bulk of the property of the Old Church having been conferred upon the Scottish Kirk.

The Colonies.

Not unnaturally the organization of Anglican Churches in the colonies was followed in some cases by their establishment, which included endowment. It was so, for example, in the East and West Indies; and the disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 was followed, in 1873, by a re-establishment of the Church in Barbados by the colonial legislature. India is the only other part of the empire (outside Great Britain) in which there is to-day a religious establishment.

Disestablishment.

_Disestablishment_ is in theory the annulling of establishment; but since an established Church is usually rich, disestablishment generally includes disendowment, even where there is no state endowment of religion. It is, in short, the abrogation of establishment, coupled with such a confiscation of Church property as the state thinks good in the interests of the community. The disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 has already been referred to; in 1869 the Irish Church Disestablishment Bill was passed. Private bills relating to Scotland have more than once been brought forward. In 1895 the Liberal government introduced a suspensory bill, intended as the preliminary step towards disestablishing and disendowing the Church in Wales; it was withdrawn, however, in the same session, and the question of Welsh disestablishment slumbered until in 1906 a royal commission was appointed by the Liberal government to inquire into the subject, and in 1909 a bill was introduced on much the same lines as in 1895.

The case of the Irish Church will illustrate the process of disestablishment, although, of course, the precise details would vary in other cases. The Irish Church Act was passed in 1869 by Gladstone's first government, after considerable opposition, and provided that from January 1, 1871, the union created by statute between the Churches of England and Ireland should be dissolved, and the Church of Ireland should "cease to be established by law." Existing ecclesiastical corporations were dissolved, and their rights ceased, compensation being given to all individuals and their personal precedence being secured for life. All rights of patronage, including those of the crown, were abolished, with compensation in the case of private patrons; and the archbishops and bishops ceased to have the right of summons to the House of Lords. All laws restraining the freedom of action of the Church were repealed; the ecclesiastical law, however, to subsist by way of contract amongst the members of the Church (until altered by a representative body). Provision was made for the incorporation by charter of the representative body of the Church, should such a body be found, with power to hold landed property. All existing ecclesiastical property was vested in a commission, which was to give compensation for life interests, to transfer to the new representative body the churches, glebe houses, and L500,000 in compensation for endowments by private persons since 1660, and to hold the rest for such purposes as parliament might thereafter determine.

AUTHORITIES.--F.R. Dareste, _Les Constitutions modernes_ (Paris, 1891); H. Geffcken, _Church and State_, trans. by E.F. Taylor (London, 1877); P. Schaff, _Church and State in the United States_ (Papers of the American Hist. Association, vol. ii. No. 4), (New York, 1888); L. Minghetti, _Stato e Chiesa_ (Milan, 1878), French translation, with Introd. by E. de Laveleye (Paris, 1882); C. Cadorna, _Religione, diritto, liberta_ (Milan, 1893); F. Nippold, _Die Theorie der Trennung von Kirche und Staat_ (Bern, 1881); W. Warburton, _Alliance between Church and State_ (London, 1741) (_Works_, vol. iv., ed. Hurd, London, 1788); _Church Problems_ (ed. by H.H. Henson) (London, 1900); Essays on "Establishment" and "Disendowment"; W.R. Anson, _Law and Custom of the Constitution_, vol. ii. chap. ix. (Oxford, 1892); Phillimore, _Ecclesiastical Law_ (London, 1895); J.S. Brewer, _Endowments and Establishment of the Church of England_ (ed. by L.T. Dibdin, London, 1885); A.T. Innes, _Law of Creeds in Scotland_ (Edinburgh, 1867); E.A. Freeman, _Disestablishment and Disendowment_ (London, 1883); G. Harwood, _Disestablishment_ (London, 1876); _Annales de l'ecole libre des Sciences politiques_, tom. i. (Paris, 1885), art. "La Separation de l'Eglise et de l'Etat en Angleterre," by L. Ayral. (W. E. Co.)

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In effect this involves the establishment of all religious denominations, for none can exist without the express authorization of the state, and all are subject to more or less interference on its part. Thus the emperor-king is, in his capacity of head of the state, technically "bishop" of the Evangelical Church, the constitution of which was fixed by an imperial patent in 1866 and modified by. another in 1891 (see Herzog-Hauck, _Realencykl._ ed. 1904, _s._ "Osterreich").--[ED.]

[2] Also in the other German Protestant states. The relations of the Roman Catholic Church with the various governments are settled by separate concordats with the papacy (see CONCORDAT).

[3] Andrew Lang, _Hist. of Scotland_, ii. p. 75 ff. Compare with this the position of the reformers generally in England, where even so stout a Puritan as William Harrison (_Description of England_, 1570) does not dream of separating the organic life of the Church of England from that of the pre-Reformation Church. (Ed).

ESTABLISHMENT OF A PORT, the technical expression for the time that elapses between the moon's transit across the meridian at new or full moon at a given place and the time of high water at that place. The interval (constant at any one place) may vary from 6 mins. (Harwich) to 11 hrs. 45 mins. (North Foreland). At London Bridge it is 1 hr. 58 mins. (See also TIDE.)

ESTAING, CHARLES HECTOR, COMTE D' (1729-1794), French admiral, was born at the chateau of Ruvel, Auvergne, in 1729. He entered the army as a colonel of infantry, and in 1757 he accompanied count de Lally to the East Indies, with the rank of brigadier-general. In 1759 he was made prisoner at the siege of Madras, but was released on parole. Before the ratification of his exchange he obtained command of some vessels, and conducted various naval attacks against the English; and having, on his return to France in 1760, fallen accidentally into their hands, he was, on the ground of having broken his parole, thrown into prison at Portsmouth, but as the charge could not be properly substantiated he was soon afterwards released. In 1763 he was named lieutenant-general in the navy, and in 1777 vice-admiral; and in 1778 he obtained the command of a fleet intended to assist the United States against Great Britain. He sailed on the 13th of April, and between the 11th and the 22nd of July, blockaded Howe at Sandy Hook, but did not venture to attack him, though greatly superior in force. In concert with the American generals, he planned an attack on Newport, preparatory to which he compelled the British to destroy some war vessels that were in the harbour; but before the concerted attack could take place, he put to sea against the English fleet, under Lord Howe, when owing to a violent storm, which arose suddenly and compelled the two fleets to separate before engaging in battle, many of his vessels were so shattered that he found it necessary to put into Boston for repairs. He then sailed for the West Indies on the 4th of November. After a feeble attempt to retake Santa Lucia from Admiral Barrington, he captured St Vincent and Grenada. On the 6th of July 1779 he fought a drawn battle with Admiral John Byron, who retired to St Christopher. Though superior in force, D'Estaing would not attack the English in the roadstead, but set sail to attack Savannah. All his attempts, as well as those of the Americans, against the town were repulsed with heavy loss, and he was finally compelled to retire. He returned to France in 1780. He was in command of the combined fleet before Cadiz when the peace was signed in 1783; but from that time his chief attention was devoted to politics. In 1787 he was elected to the assembly of the notables; in 1789 he was appointed commandant of the national guard; and in 1792 he was chosen admiral by the National Assembly. Though in favour of national reform he continued to cherish a strong feeling of loyalty to the royal family, and on the trial of Marie Antoinette in 1793 bore testimony in her favour. On this account, and because of certain friendly letters which had passed between him and the queen, he was himself brought to trial, and was executed on the 28th of April 1794.

See _Marins et soldats francais en Amerique_, by the Viscomte de Noailles (1903); Beatson, _Naval and Military Memoirs of Great Britain_, vol. v.

ESTATE (through O. Fr. _estat_, mod. _etat_, from Lat. _status_, state, condition, position, _stare_, to stand), the state or condition in which a man lives, now chiefly used poetically and in such phrases as "man's estate," or "of high estate"; "state" has superseded most of the uses of the word except (1) in property and (2) in constitutional law.

1. In the law of property the word is employed in several senses. In the widest sense a man's estate comprises his entire belongings; so much of it as consists of land and certain other interests associated therewith is his "real estate"; the rest is his "personal estate." The word is more particularly applied to interests in land, and in popular and general use "an estate" means the land itself. The strict technical meaning of "an estate" is an interest in lands, and this conception lies at the root of the English theory of property in land. "The first thing that the student has to do," says Joshua Williams (_Law of Real Property_), "is to get rid of the idea of absolute ownership. Such an idea is quite unknown to the English law. No man is in law the absolute owner of lands. He can only hold an estate in them." That is, the notion of tenure, of holding by a tenant from a lord, prevails. The last lord of all from whom all land was ultimately held was the king. Persons holding directly from the king and granting to others were the king's tenants _in capite_, and were the mesne lords of their tenants.

Estates in land may be classified according to (1) the quantity of their interest or duration, (2) the time of enjoyment, and (3) the number and connexion of the tenants. According to (1), an estate may be either a freehold of inheritance or a freehold not of inheritance. A freehold of inheritance may be (_a_) an estate in fee simple, which is the largest estate a man can hold in English law, and comes close to the idea of absolute ownership, repudiated by Williams; an estate in fee simple is inheritable by a man's heirs generally, he has full powers of disposition over it, and may alienate the whole or part. (_b_) It may also be in limited fees, which are again subdivided into (i.) qualified or base fee, (ii.) fee conditional, so called at the common law, afterwards, on the passing of the statute _De Donis Conditionalibus_, fee tail, which may be general as to the heirs of a man's body, or special, as to the heirs _male_ (or _female_) of his body. A freehold not of inheritance may be either (1) conventional, as an estate for life, which may be either an estate for one's own life or for the life of another (_pur autre vie_); (2) legal, or created by operation of law, as tenancy in tail after possibility of issue extinct (i.e. where an estate is given to a man and the heirs of his body by his present wife, and the wife dies without issue, the husband becomes tenant in tail after possibility of issue extinct); tenancy by curtesy (see CURTESY); tenancy in dower (see DOWER).

Estates not of freehold or less than freehold are subdivided into (i.) estates for years (often called estates for a term of years, the instrument creating it being termed a _lease_ or demise, and the estate itself a _leasehold interest_); (ii.) estates at will, that is, where lands or tenements are let by one man to another to have and to hold at the will of the lessor; (iii.) estates at sufferance, where one comes into possession of land under a lawful title, and continues in possession after his title has determined.

According to (2), estates are either in possession or in expectancy. Estates in expectancy are either (_a_) in remainder, which may be vested or contingent, or (_b_) in reversion (see REMAINDER, REVERSION).

According to (3), estates may be either (i.) in severalty, that is, the holding of an estate by a person in his own right only, without any other person being joined or connected with him in point of interest therein; (ii.) estates in joint tenancy (see JOINT); (iii.) coparcenary (q.v.); and (iv.) tenancy in common, where two or more hold the same land, by several and distinct titles, but with unity of possession. (See also REAL PROPERTY.)

2. In constitutional law an estate is an order or class having a definite share as such in the body politic, and participating either directly or by its representatives in the government. The system of representation by estates took its rise in western Europe during the 13th century, at a time when the feudal system was being broken up through various causes, notably the growing wealth and power of the towns. In the feudal council the clergy and the territorial nobles had alone had a voice; but the 13th century, to quote Stubbs (_Const. Hist_. ii. 168, ed. 1875), "turns the feudal council into an assembly of estates, and draws the constitution of the third estate from the ancient local machinery which it concentrates." This is, allowing for differences of detail, true of other countries as well as England. To the two estates already existing, clergy and nobles, is added a third, that of the commons (burgesses and knights of the shire) in England, that of the _roturiers_ in France (known as the _tiers etat_). This division into three estates became the norm, but it was not universal, nor inevitable.[1] Even in England there was a tendency to create other estates, the king for instance treating with the merchants separately for grants of money to be raised by taxing the general body of merchants in the country; and there was a similar tendency on the part of the lawyers. But for the accident of their sitting and voting together, the burgesses and knights of the shire would also have formed separate estates. In Aragon the cortes contained four estates (_brazos_ or arms), the clergy, the great barons (_ricos hombres_), the minor barons (knights or _infanzones_), and the towns. The Swedish diet had also four--clergy, barons, burghers and peasants.

The system of estates, based on the medieval conception of society as divided into definite orders, formed the basis of whatever constitutional forms survived in Europe till the French Revolution. In England, of course, it had early become obscured, the House of Commons representing the whole nation outside the narrow order of the peers. The creation of an estate of lesser nobles or landowners had been prevented by the fusion of the knights of the shire with the burgesses; the spiritual estate was ruled out by the determination of the clergy to deliberate and tax themselves in their own convocation, leaving the bishops, as spiritual peers, to represent their interests in parliament.

The phrase "the three estates of the realm" still survives, but to most men it conveys no clear meaning. The erroneous conception early arose--Hallam says it was current among the popular lawyers of the 17th century--that the "three estates" were king, lords and commons, as representing the three great divisions of legislative authority. Such a conception might be possible in Hungary, where the crown of St. Stephen symbolizes not so much the royal power as the co-ordination of the powers of all the organs of the state, including the king; but in England the king represents the whole nation and in no sense a separate interest within it, which is the essence of an estate. The phrase "three estates" as applied to the English constitution at present is, in fact, misleading. It is now usually understood of the lords spiritual, the lords temporal, and the commons.

The conception of the "three estates of the realm" as the great divisions of legislative authority led in England to the coining of the phrase "fourth estate," to indicate some power of corresponding magnitude in the state distinct from them. Fielding thus spoke of "the mob," and Hazlitt of Cobbett; but the phrase is now usually applied to the press, a usage originating in a speech by Burke (Carlyle, _Hero-worship_, Lect. v.).

In the constitutional struggles of the European continent, from the Revolution onward, the rival theories of representation by estates and of popular representation have played a great part. The crucial moment of the French Revolution was when the vote according to "order" was rejected and the estates of the clergy and nobles were merged with the _tiers etat_, the states-general thus becoming the National Assembly. This was the precedent followed, generally speaking, during the 19th century in the other countries in which constitutional government was established. In most of them the medieval estates lingered on in provincial diets (_Landtage_),[2] and the famous Article XIII. of the Federal Act (_Bundesakte_) of Vienna decreed that "assemblies of estates" should be set up, wherever not already existing, in the German states. The efforts of Metternich and the statesmen of his school were directed, not so much to abolishing the constitutional model, as to establishing it, if need were, on traditional and conservative lines. This is what was meant by the famous reply of the emperor Francis I. to the Magyar deputation; "All the world is playing the fool and demanding fanciful constitutions." When the need for making constitutional concessions became urgent, the attempt was accordingly made to base them on the system of estates. But the central diet convoked in 1847 by Frederick William IV. to Berlin, technically a concentration of provincial estates, quickly converted itself as Metternich had prophesied--into a national assembly; and precisely the same thing happened in the case of the first Austrian parliament in 1848. In Hungary the revolution was in some respects more conservative in character. The March Laws of 1848 preserved the general character of the House of Magnates, comparable to the British House of Lords, but converted the Lower House from what was practically representative of the estate of the lesser nobles into a national representative assembly. Of all the sovereign states of Europe only the grand-duchies of Mecklenburg still (1909) retain the ancient system of estates untouched. The diet, which is common to the two duchies, consists of the _Ritterschaft_, in which all tenants in chivalry (_Rittergutsbesitzer_), whether noble or non-noble, have a voice, and the _Landschaft_, which consists of the chief magistrates of the towns. The former is taken as representative of the peasant proprietors and copy-holders (_Hintersassen_), the latter of the burghers.

The plural form ESTATES or STATES (Fr. _etats_, Ger. _Stande_) is the name commonly given to an assembly of estates (_assemblee des etats_, _Standeversammlung_). When such an assembly is not merely local or provincial it is called the estates-general or states-general (_etats generaux_), e.g. in France the assembly of the deputies of the three estates of the realm as distinct from the provincial estates which met periodically in the so-called _pays d'etats_.

For further details about the estates in England and elsewhere see W. Stubbs, _Constitutional History_, vol. ii. (1896); H. Hallam, _The Middle Ages_ (1855); F.W. Maitland, _Constitutional History of England_ (1908); A. Luchaire, _Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France_ (1883-1885); G. Waitz, _Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte_ (Kiel, 1865-1878); and A.S. Rait, _The Scottish Parliament_ (1901). See also REPRESENTATION.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In Scotland the three estates were the prelates, the tenants-in-chief and the burgesses, the third estate joining the others for the first time about the beginning of the 14th century. In 1428 commissioners of shires, men elected by the minor tenants-in-chief, were ordered to appear in parliament; the greater tenants-in-chief then coalesced with the prelates and the three estates were the lords, clerical and lay, the commissioners of shires and the burgesses. From 1640 to 1660 parliament was reorganized, the prelates being excluded, but at the Restoration the old order was re-established. The Scottish parliament was accustomed to depute much of its work to a committee, composed of members from each of the three orders, and the committee of the estates was very prominent during the struggle between Charles I. and his people.

[2] These diets are, wherever they still exist, survivals of the "parliaments" of separate territorial units.

ESTATE AND HOUSE AGENTS. A person exercising the calling of a house agent in England is required, under a penalty of L20, to take out yearly a licence upon which L2 is charged as a duty of excise, unless he is licensed as an auctioneer or appraiser, or is an agent employed in the management of landed estates, or a solicitor or conveyancer who has taken out his annual certificate as such. In this connexion a person is deemed to be a house agent if he advertises for sale or for letting, or in any way negotiates for the selling or letting of any furnished house or part of any furnished house (any storey or flat rated and let as a separate tenement being for this purpose a house); subject, however, to the qualification that no one is to be deemed to be a house agent by reason of his letting, or offering to let, or in any way negotiating for the letting of, any house the annual rent or value of which does not exceed L25.

A house agent who is merely instructed to act in the usual way of his calling has no authority to bind his employer by a contract. His business is to endeavour to find a person willing to become a purchaser or tenant and then to communicate his offer to the owner. Unless express authority is given to the agent to sell or let, and for that purpose to enter into a binding contract, the principal reserves his right to accept or refuse the offer. As a rule, a house or estate agent has no authority to receive payment on behalf of the principal. Where he is employed to procure a tenant, he must use reasonable diligence to ascertain that the person to whom the property is let through his agency is fit to be a tenant. He does not, however, in any way guarantee the payment of the rent. A house agent may not, for or in expectation of payment, prepare any deed relating to the sale or letting of real or personal estate. There is, however, no similar prohibition as to agreements not under seal, and it is a common practice for house agents to charge for the preparation of them.

House agents are usually remunerated by way of commission. The scale adopted by the Institute of Estate and House Agents embodies the rates usually charged. In the absence of express provision upon the subject between the principal and the agent, commission is payable only when the latter has found a purchaser or tenant. If, however, he had found a person willing to buy or take property upon the terms upon which the principal intimated to him his willingness to sell or let it, the principal will be liable to pay the amount of the commission, even though in fact he refuses or is unable to sell or let it. Where the agent can show that he has brought about a sale or tenancy he will be entitled to the commission notwithstanding the fact that another agent has been paid, or has recovered in an action, commission in respect of the same sale or tenancy. The agent's authority may be revoked at any time; but, where he has already performed the service for which he was employed, the principal cannot defeat his right to be paid the amount of the commission by subsequently revoking his authority. If the agent is unsuccessful in finding a purchaser or tenant, as the case may be, he will not, as a rule, have any right to remuneration for his efforts in the matter.

Most auctioneers, in addition to holding auctions, carry on the business of house and estate agency. The number of licences issued to house agents and appraisers in England for the year ended 31st March 1899 was 4429, and for the year ended 31st March 1909, 4618. The number of licences issued to auctioneers in England for the corresponding periods was 6389 and 6543 respectively. (H. Ha.)

ESTATE DUTY. For purposes of the national revenue in the United Kingdom, the Finance Act 1894 imposed on all property passing by death after the 1st of August 1894 a duty called estate duty, in lieu of certain other duties previously payable. The objects of the act were--(1) simplification of the death duties and equalization as between real and personal property, and (2) aggregation of all the property passing on a death, and taxation at rates graduated according to the value of the whole. Before the act a duty (probate duty) was taken on the free personal property of deceased persons in the hands of the executor or administrator, without regard to the subsequent distribution. The legacy and succession duties were levied on distribution of the property passing on the death, from the persons taking any property under the will or intestacy of the deceased, or under settlement, or by devolution of title on his death. These two latter duties were mutually exclusive, and together covered practically all property passing by death. They were levied at rates graduated according to consanguinity. In 1888 an attempt was made to equalize the rates of the death duties as between property which paid the probate and legacy duties, and property which paid succession duty only. But the Finance Act 1894 replaced the probate duty by a duty extending to all property real or personal passing on or by reference to death, whether by disposition of the deceased or not, without regard to its tenure or destination. The Finance Acts of 1907 and 1909-1910 increased the scale of duties laid down in 1894.

For this purpose all property passing on a death is aggregated to form one estate, on the capital value of which the duty is charged, at rates graduated from 1 to 15% according to the aggregate value. Besides the property of which the deceased was competent to dispose at his death, the aggregated estate includes property in which he had an interest ceasing on his death, from the cesser of which a benefit accrues, or which was disposed of by him within twelve months of death, or at any time, with reservation of an interest to himself. The extent to which property is deemed to pass on the cesser of a limited interest is measured by the proportion of the income to which the interest extended, without regard to the tenure of the deceased or his successor. Property may therefore be included in the aggregate estate at its capital value owing to the passing of a life-interest only, the property being settled so that the absolute ownership does not pass at all. But when the duty has once been paid on property passing under a settlement, the property does not again become chargeable until it passes on the death of a person who is or has been competent to dispose of it. To compensate for this advantage, when property passing under a settlement made after the act pays the estate duty, a further duty of 2% (settlement estate duty) is taken, except where the only subsequent life-interest is that of the wife or husband of the deceased.

The rate of duty being fixed according to the aggregate capital value of the whole estate, the charge is distributed according to the different modes of disposition of the property comprised in the estate. The duty on the personalty which passes to the executor as such is paid by him, as the probate duty was, and comes out of the general estate. For the other property passing, trustees, or any person to whom it passes for a beneficial interest in possession, are made accountable, and are required to bring in an account of the property and pay the duty. The duty is a first charge on such property, and, when it is paid by a person having a life-interest only, he may charge the _corpus_ of the property with it. The duty on real property included in an account is payable by eight yearly or sixteen half-yearly instalments, becoming due twelve months after the death, and bearing interest at 3% from that date. On other property, except in a few special cases, the duty bears interest at 3% from the date of the death. When the estate duty has been paid no further duty is chargeable on property comprised in the estate which passes to lineal relations of the deceased. But on property passing to collaterals or strangers legacy or succession duty, as the case may be, is payable by the devisees or successors, at a rate (which is the same whichever duty be payable) fixed according to consanguinity.

For a detailed account of the provisions of the act of 1894 and subsequent amending acts, and of the practical working of the duty, reference is made to Austen-Cartmell, _Finance Acts_ (1894-1907); Hanson, _Death Duties_ (London, 1904); Soward, _Handbook to the Estate Duty_ (4th ed., London, 1900); and to the reports of the commissioners of Inland Revenue for 1894-1895 and subsequent years.

ESTCOURT, RICHARD (1668-1712), English actor, began by playing comedy parts in Dublin. His first London appearance was in 1704 as Dominick, in Dryden's _Spanish Friar_, and he continued to take important parts at Drury Lane, being the original Pounce in Steele's _Tender Husband_ (1705), Sergeant Kite in Farquhar's _Recruiting Officer_, and Sir Francis Gripe in Mrs Centlivre's _Busybody_. He was an excellent mimic and a great favourite socially. Estcourt wrote a comedy, _The Fair Example, or the Modish Citizen_ (1703), and _Prunella_ (1704), an interlude.

ESTE, one of the oldest of the former reigning houses of Italy. It is in all probability of Lombard origin, and descended, according to Muratori, from the princes who governed in Tuscany in Carolingian times. The lordship of the town of Este was first acquired by Alberto Azzo II., who also bore the title of marquis of Italy[1] (d. c. 1097); he married Kunitza or Kunegonda, sister of Welf or Guelph III., duke of Carinthia. Welf died without issue, and was succeeded by Welf IV., son of Kunitza, who married a daughter of Otto II., duke of Bavaria, and who obtained the duchy of Bavaria in 1070. Through him the house of Este became connected with the princely houses of Brunswick and Hanover, from which the sovereigns of England are descended. The Italian titles and estates were inherited by Folco I. (1060-1135), son of Alberto Azzo by his second wife Gersende, daughter of Herbert I., count of Maine.[2] The house of Este played a great part in the history of medieval and Renaissance Italy, and it first comes to the front in the wars between the Guelphs and Ghibellines; as leaders of the former party its princes received at different times Ferrara, Modena, Reggio and other fiefs and territories.

Obizzo I., son of Folco, was the first to bear the title of marquis of Este. He entered into the Guelphic league against the emperor Frederick I., and was comprehended in the treaty of Venice of 1177 by which municipal _podestas_ (foreigners chosen as heads of cities to administer justice impartially) were instituted. He was elected podesta of Padua in 1178, and in 1184 he was reconciled with Frederick, who created him marquis of Genoa and Milan, a dignity somewhat similar to that of imperial vicar. By the marriage of his son Azzo to the heiress of the Marchesella family (the story that she was carried off to prevent her marrying an enemy of the Este is a pure legend), he came to acquire great influence in Ferrara, although he was opposed by the hardly less powerful house of Torelli.

Obizzo died in 1194 and Azzo V. having predeceased him, the marquisate devolved on his grandson Azzo VI. (1170-1212), who became head of the Guelph party, and to him the people of Ferrara sacrificed their liberty by making him their first lord (1208). But during his lifetime civil war raged in the city, between the Este and the Torelli, each party being driven out again and again. Azzo (also called Azzolino) died in 1212 and was succeeded by Aldobrandino I., who in 1213 concluded a treaty with Salinguerra Torelli, the head of that house, to divide the government of the city between them. On his death in 1215 he was succeeded by his brother Azzo VII. (1205-1264), surnamed Novello, but Salinguerra Torelli usurped all power in Ferrara and expelled Azzo (1222). In 1240 Pope Gregory IX. determined on another war against the emperor Frederick II., but deemed it wise to begin by crushing the chief Ghibelline houses. Thus Azzo found himself in league with the pope and various Guelph cities in his attempt to regain Ferrara. That town underwent a four months' siege, and was at last compelled to surrender; Salinguerra was sent to Venice as a prisoner, and Azzo ruled in Ferrara once more. The Ghibelline party was annihilated, but the city enjoyed peace and happiness within, although her citizens took part in the wars raging outside. The Guelph cause triumphed, Frederick being defeated several times, and after his death Azzo helped in crushing the terrible Eccelino da Romano (q.v.) who upheld the imperial cause, at the battle of Cassano (1259). He died in 1264 and was succeeded by Obizzo II. (1240-1293) his grandson, who in 1288 received the lordship of Modena, and that of Reggio in 1289. He was a capable but cruel ruler, and while professing devotion to the Guelph cause, did homage to the German king Rudolph I. when he descended into Italy.

Obizzo II. died in 1293 and was succeeded by his son Azzo VIII., but the latter's brothers, Aldobrandino and Francesco, who were to have shared in the government, were expelled and became his bitter enemies. The misgovernment of Azzo led to the revolt of Reggio and Modena, which shook off his yoke. Enemies arose on all sides, and he spent his last years in perpetual fighting. He died in 1308, and having no legitimate children, his brothers, his natural son Fresco, and others disputed the succession. A papal legate was appointed, and though the Este returned they were placed under pontifical tutelage.

The history of the house now becomes involved and of little interest until we come to Nicholas III. (1384-1441), who exercised sway over Ferrara, Modena, Parma and Reggio, waged many wars, was made general of the army of the Church, and in his later years governor of Milan, where he died, not without suspicion of poison. To him succeeded Lionello (1407-1450), a wise and virtuous ruler and a patron of literature and art; then Borso (1413-1471), his brother, who was created duke of Modena and Reggio by the emperor Frederick III., and duke of Ferrara by the pope. In spite of the wars by which all Italy was torn, Ferrara enjoyed a period of peace and prosperity under Borso; he patronized literature, established a printing-press at Ferrara, surrounded himself with learned men, and his court was of unparalleled splendour. He also protected industry and commerce, and ruled with great wisdom. His brother Ercole I. (1431-1505), who succeeded him in 1471, was less fortunate, and had to engage in a war with Venice, owing to a dispute about the salt monopoly, with the result that by the peace of 1484 he was forced to cede the district of Polesine to the republic. But the last years of his life were peaceful and prosperous, so that afterwards men looked back to the days of Ercole I. as to a golden age; his capital was noted both for its luxury and as the resort of men eminent in literature and art. Boiardo the poet was his minister, and Ariosto obtained his patronage.

Ercole's daughter Beatrice d'Este (1475-1497), duchess of Milan, one of the most beautiful and accomplished princesses of the Italian Renaissance, was bethrothed at the age of five to Lodovico Sforza (known as _il Moro_), duke of Bari, regent and afterwards duke of Milan, and was married to him in January 1491. She had been carefully educated, and availed herself of her position as mistress of one of the most splendid courts of Italy to surround herself with learned men, poets and artists, such as Niccolo da Correggio, Bernardo Castiglione, Bramante, Leonardo da Vinci and many others. In 1492 she visited Venice as ambassador for her husband in his political schemes, which consisted chiefly in a desire to be recognized as duke of Milan. On the death of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, Lodovico's usurpation was legalized, and after the battle of Fornovo (1495) both he and his wife took part in the peace congress of Vercelli between Charles VIII. of France and the Italian princes, at which Beatrice showed great political ability. But her brilliant career was cut short by death through childbirth, on the 3rd of January 1497. She belongs to the best class of Renaissance women, and was one of the culture influences of the age; to her patronage and good taste are due to a great extent the splendour of the Castello of Milan, of the Certosa of Pavia and of many other famous buildings in Lombardy.

Her sister Isabella d'Este (1474-1539), marchioness of Mantua, was carefully educated both in letters and in the arts like Beatrice, and was married when barely sixteen to Francesco Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua (1490). She showed great diplomatic and political skill, especially in her negotiations with Cesare Borgia (q.v.), who had dispossessed Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino, the husband of her sister-in-law and intimate friend Elisabetta Gonzaga (1502). She received the deposed duke and duchess, as well as other princes in the same condition, at her court of Mantua, which was one of the most brilliant in Italy, and like her sister she gathered together many eminent men of letters and artists, Raphael, Andrea Mantegna and Giulio Romano being among those whom she employed. Both she and her husband were greatly influenced by Baldassare Castiglione (1478-1529), author of _Il Cortigiano_, and it was at his suggestion that Giulio Romano was summoned to Mantua to enlarge the Castello and other buildings. Isabella was "undoubtedly, among all the princesses of the 15th and 16th centuries, the one who most strikingly and perfectly personified the aspirations of the Renaissance" (Eugene Muntz); but her character was less attractive than that of her sister, and in her love of collecting works of art she showed a somewhat grasping nature, being ever anxious to cut down the prices of the artists who worked for her.

To Ercole I. succeeded his son Alphonso I. (1486-1534), the husband of Lucrezia Borgia (q.v.), daughter of Pope Alexander VI. During nearly the whole of his reign he was engaged in the Italian wars, but by his diplomatic skill and his military ability he was for many years almost always successful. He was gifted with great mechanical skill, and his artillery was of world-wide reputation. On the formation of the league of Cambrai against Venice in 1508, he was appointed to the supreme command of the papal troops by Julius II.; but after the Venetians had sustained a number of reverses they made peace with the pope and joined him against the French. Alphonso was invited to co-operate in the new combination, and on his refusal war was declared against him; but although he began by losing Modena and Reggio, he subsequently inflicted several defeats on the papal troops. He fought on the side of the French at the battle of Ravenna (1512), from which, although victorious, they derived no advantage. Soon afterwards they retired from Italy, and Alphonso, finding himself abandoned, tried to make his peace with the pope, through the mediation of Fabrizio Colonna. He went to Rome for the purpose and received absolution, but on discovering that Julius meant to detain him a prisoner, he escaped in disguise, and the pope's death in 1513 gave him a brief respite. But Leo X. proved equally bent on the destruction of the house of Este, when he too was cut off by death. Alphonso availed himself of the troubles of the papacy during the reign of the equally hostile Clement VII. to recapture Reggio (1523) and Modena (1527), and was confirmed in his possession of them by the emperor Charles V., in spite of Clement's opposition.

He died in 1534, and was succeeded by his son Ercole II. (1508-1559), who married Renee, daughter of Louis XII. of France, a princess of Protestant proclivities and a friend of Calvin. On joining the league of France and the papacy against Spain, Ercole was appointed lieutenant-general of the French army in Italy. The war was prosecuted, however, with little vigour, and peace was made with Spain in 1558. The duke and his brother, Cardinal Ippolito the Younger, were patrons of literature and art, and the latter built the magnificent Villa d' Este at Tivoli. He was succeeded by Alphonso II. (1533-1597), remembered for his patronage of Tasso, whom he afterwards imprisoned. He reorganized the army, enriched the public library, encouraged agriculture, but was extravagant and dissipated. With him the main branch of the family came to an end, and although at his death he bequeathed the duchy to his cousin Cesare (1533-1628), Pope Clement VIII., renewing the Church's hostility to the house of Este, declared that prince to be of illegitimate birth (a doubtful contention), and by a treaty with Lucrezia, Alphonso's sister, Ferrara was made over to the Holy See. Cesare held Modena and Reggio, but with him the Estensi cease to play an important part in Italian politics. For two centuries this dynasty had been one of the greatest powers in Italy, and its court was perhaps the most splendid in Europe, both as regards pomp and luxury and on account of the eminent artists, poets and scholars which it attracted.

The subsequent heads of the family were: Alphonso III., who retired to a monastery in 1629 and died in 1644; Francis I. (1610-1658), who commanded the French army in Italy in 1647; Alphonso IV. (1634-1662), the father of Mary Beatrice, the queen of James II. of England, who fought in the French army during the Spanish War, and founded the picture gallery of Modena; Francis II. (1660-1694), who originated the Este library, also at Modena, and founded the university; Rinaldo (1655-1737), through whose marriage with Charlotte Felicitas of Brunswick-Luneburg the long-separated branches of the house of Este were reunited; Francis III. (1698-1780), who married the daughter of the regent Philip of Orleans. Francis III. wished to remain neutral during the war between Spain and Austria (1740), but the imperialists having occupied and devastated his duchy, he took the Spanish side and was appointed _generalissimo_ of the Spanish army in Italy. He was re-established in his possessions by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (1748), and on being reconciled with the empress Maria Theresa, he received from her the title of governor of Lombardy in 1754. With his son Ercole III. Rinaldo (1727-1803), who at the peace of Campoformio lost his duchy, the male line of the Estensi came to an end. His only daughter, Marie Beatrice (d. 1829), was married to the archduke Ferdinand, third son of the emperor Francis I. Ferdinand was created duke of Breisgau in 1803, and at his death in 1806 he was succeeded by his son Francis IV. (q.v.), to whom the duchy of Modena was given at the treaty of Vienna in 1814. He died in 1846 and was succeeded by Francis V. (q.v.), who lost his possessions by the events of 1859. With his death in 1875 the title and estates passed to the archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The children of Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of the earl of Dunmore, by her marriage with Augustus Frederick, duke of Sussex, sixth son of George III. of Great Britain, assumed the old name of d' Este, and claimed recognition as members of the royal family; but as the marriage was in violation of the royal marriages act of 1773, it was declared invalid, and their claims were set aside.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.--G. Antonelli, _Saggio di una bibliografia storica ferrarese_ (Ferrara, 1851); L.A. Muratori, _Delle antichita estensi ed italiane_ (3 vols., 1717, &c.), the chief and most reliable authority on the subject, containing a quantity of documents; A. Frizzi, _Memorie per la storia di Ferrara_ (2nd ed., Ferrara, 1847); A. Solerti, _Ferrara e la corte estense nella seconda meta del sec. XVI._ (Citta di Castello, 1900); C. Antolini, _Il dominio estense in Ferrara_ (Ferrara, 1896), which deals with the siege of 1240 and other special points; E.G. Gardner, _Princes and Poets of Ferrara_ (London, 1904), a bulky volume dealing only with the Renaissance period, full of interesting and unpublished matter, especially about the literary and artistic associations of the house, but not well put together (contains good bibliography); G. Bertoni, _La Biblioteca estense e la coltura ferrarese ai tempi del duca Ercole I._ (Turin, 1903), useful for the literary aspect of the subject; P. Litta, _Le Celebri Famiglie italiane_, vol. iii. (Milan, 1831), still a valuable work; E. Noyes, _The Story of Ferrara_ (London, 1904); Julia Cartwright's _Isabella d'Este_ (London, 1903), and _Beatrice d'Este_ (1899), pleasantly written but amateurish volumes based on A. Luzio's _Mantova e Urbino_ (Turin, 1893); A. Luzio and R. Renier, "Delle relazioni di Isabella d'Este Gonzaga con Lodovico e Beatrice Sforza" (Milan, 1890, _Archivio Storico Lombardo_, xvii.). (L. V.*)

FOOTNOTES:

[1] i.e. Margrave of the Empire (_marchio Sancti Imperii_) in Italy. (See MARQUESS.)

[2] Another son of Azzo and Gersende became count of Maine as Hugh III. (d. 1131).

ESTE (anc. Ateste, q.v.), a town and episcopal see of Venetia, Italy, in the province of Padua, 20 m. S.S.W. of it by rail. Pop. (1901) 8671 (town); 10,779 (commune). It lies 49 ft. above sea-level below the southern slopes of the Euganean Hills. The external walls of the castle still rise above the town on the N., but the interior is now occupied by the cattle-market. A fragment of the once enormous Palazzo Mocenigo, of the 16th century, is now occupied by the important archaeological museum (see ATESTE). The cathedral was erected in 1690-1720, on the site of an older building destroyed by an earthquake in 1688. S. Martino is a church in the Lombard Romanesque style. The archives in the Palazzo Comunale are important.

After the Roman period the history of Este is a blank until the Lombard period, in which it was dependent on Monselice. In the 10th century the family of Este (see above) established itself in the castle above the town. At the end of the 13th century Padua, which had already captured Este more than once, became definitely mistress of it. When the Carrara family succumbed in 1405, Este voluntarily surrendered to Venice and was allowed its independence, under a podesta; and thenceforth it followed the fortunes of Venetia.

ESTEBANEZ CALDERON, SERAFIN (1799-1867), a Spanish author, best known by the pseudonym of "El Solitario," was born at Malaga on the 27th of December 1799. His first literary effort was _El Liston verde_, a poem signed "Safinio" and written to celebrate the revolution of 1820. He was called to the bar, and settled for some time at Madrid, where he published a volume of verses in 1831 under the assumed name of "El Solitario." He obtained an exaggerated reputation as an Arabic scholar, and played a minor part in the political movements of his time. He died at Madrid on the 5th of February 1867. His most interesting work, _Escenas andaluzas_ (1847), is in a curiously affected style, the vocabulary being partly archaic and partly provincial; but, despite its eccentric mannerisms, it is a vivid record of picturesque scenes and local customs. Estebanez Calderon is also the author of an unfinished history, _De la conquista y perdida de Portugal_ (1883), issued posthumously under the editorship of his nephew, Antonio Canovas del Castillo.

ESTELLA, a town of northern Spain, in the province of Navarre, on the left bank of the river Ega, 15 m. W.S.W. of Pamplona. Pop. (1900) 5736. Estella, which occupies the site of a Roman town of uncertain name, contains several monasteries and churches, a medieval citadel, and a college which was formerly a university. Its principal industries are the manufacture of woollen and linen fabrics and brandy-making; and it has a considerable trade in fruit, wine and cattle. Estella commands several defiles on the roads from Castile and Aragon, and on that account occupies a position of considerable strategic importance. It was long the headquarters of Don Carlos, who was proclaimed king here in 1833. In 1873 it was the chief stronghold of the Carlists, and in 1874, when driven from other places, they succeeded in retiring to Estella. On the 16th of February 1876 the Carlists in the town surrendered unconditionally. For an account of the Carlist rising see SPAIN: _History_.

ESTERHAZY OF GALANTHA, a noble Magyar family. Its origin has been traced, not without some uncertainty, to Salamon of Estoras, whose sons Peter and Illyes divided their patrimony in 1238. Peter founded the family of Zerhazy, and Illyes that of Illyeshazy, which became extinct in the male line in 1838. The first member of the family to emerge definitely into history was Ferencz Zerhazy (1563-1594), vice lord-lieutenant of the county of Pressburg, who took the name of Esterhazy when he was created _Freiherr_ of Galantha, an estate acquired by the family in 1421. His eldest son, Daniel (d. 1654), founded the house of Czesznek, the third, Pal (d. 1641), the line of Zolyom (Altsohl), and the fourth, Miklos, that branch of the family which occupies the most considerable place in Hungarian history, that of Frakno or Forchtenstein.

This MIKLOS [Nicholas] ESTERHAZY of Galantha (1582-1645) was born at Galantha on the 8th of April 1582. His parents were Protestants, and he himself, at first, followed the Protestant persuasion; but he subsequently went over to Catholicism and, along with Cardinal Pazmany, his most serious rival at court, became a pillar of Catholicism, both religiously and politically, and a worthy opponent of the two great Protestant champions of the period, Gabriel Bethlen and George I. Rakoczy. In 1611 he married Orsolya, the widow of the wealthy Ferencz Magocsy, thus coming into possession of her gigantic estates, and in 1622 he acquired Frakno. Matthias II. made him a baron (1613), count of Beregh (1617), and lord-lieutenant of the county of Zolyom and _magister curiae regiae_ (1618). At the coronation of Ferdinand II., when he officiated as grand-standard-bearer, he received the order of the Golden Fleece and fresh donations. At the diet of Sopron, 1625, he was elected palatine of Hungary. As a diplomatist he powerfully contributed to bring about the peace of Nikolsburg (1622) and the peace of Linz (1645) (see HUNGARY: _History_). His political ideal was the consolidation of the Habsburg dynasty as a means towards freeing Hungary from the Turkish yoke. He himself, on one occasion (1623), defeated the Turks on the banks of the Nyitra; but anything like sustained operations against them was then impossible. He was also one of the most eminent writers of his day. He died at Nagy-Heflan on the 11th of September 1645, leaving five sons.

See _Works of Nicholas Esterhazy_, with a biography by Ferencz Toldi (Hung.) (Pest, 1852); _Nicholas Count Esterhazy, Palatine of Hungary_ (a biography, Hung.) (Pest, 1863-1870).

His third son PAL [Paul] (1635-1713), prince palatine, founded the princely branch of the family of Esterhazy. He was born at Kis Marton (Eisenstadt) on the 7th of September 1635. In 1663 he fought, along with Miklos Zrinyi, against the Turks, and distinguished himself under Montecuculi. In 1667 he was appointed commander-in-chief in south Hungary, where he defeated the malcontents at Leutschau and Gyork. In 1681 he was elected palatine. In 1683 he participated in the deliverance of Vienna from the Turks, and entered Buda in 1686 at the head of 20,000 men. Thoroughly reactionary, and absolutely devoted to the Habsburgs, he contributed more than any one else to the curtailing of the privileges of the Magyar gentry in 1687, when he was created a prince of the Empire, with (in 1712) succession to the first-born of his house. His "aulic tendencies" made him so unpopular that his offer of mediation between the Rakoczy insurgents and the government was rejected by the Hungarian diet, and the negotiations, which led to the peace of Szatmar (see HUNGARY: _History_), were entrusted to Janos Pallfy. He died on the 26th of March 1713. He loved the arts and sciences, wrote several religious works, and was one of the chief compilers of the _Trophaeum Domus Inclytae Estoratianae_.

See Lajos Merenyi, _Prince Paul Esterhazy_ (Hung.) (Budapest, 1895).

Prince PAL ANTAL, grandson of the prince palatine Pal, was a distinguished soldier, who rose to the rank of field-marshal in 1758. On his death in 1762 he was succeeded by his brother.

Prince MIKLOS JOZSEF [Nicholas Joseph] (1714-1790), also a brilliant soldier, is perhaps best remembered as a patron of the fine arts. For his services in command of an infantry brigade at Kolin (1757) he was specially mentioned by Count Daun, and became one of the original members of the order of Maria Theresa. In 1762 he was appointed captain of Maria Theresa's Hungarian body-guard, in 1764 _Feldzeugmeister_, and in 1768 field marshal. His other honours included the Golden Fleece and the grade of commander in the order of Maria Theresa. Joseph II. conferred the princely title, which had previously been limited to the eldest-born of the house, on all his descendants, male and female. Esterhazy died in Vienna on the 28th of September 1790. He rebuilt in the Renaissance style Schloss Esterhazy, the splendour of which won for it the name of the Hungarian Versailles. Haydn was for thirty years conductor of his private orchestra and general musical director, and many of his compositions were written for the private theatre and the concerts of this prince.

His grandson, Prince MIKLOS [Nicholas] (1765-1833) was born on the 12th of December 1765. He began life as an officer in the guards, subsequently making the grand tour, which first awakened his deep interest in art. He quitted the army for diplomacy after reaching the rank of _Feldzeugmeister_, and was employed as extraordinary ambassador, on special occasions, when he displayed a magnificence extraordinary even for the Esterhazys. He made at Vienna an important collection of paintings and engravings, which came into the possession of the Hungarian Academy at Budapest in 1865. At his summer palace of Kis Marton (Eisenstadt) he erected a monument to Haydn. His immense expenditure on building and the arts involved the family in financial difficulties for two generations. When the French invaded Austria in 1797, he raised a regiment of 1000 men at his own expense. In 1809, when Napoleon invited the Magyars to elect a new king to replace the Habsburgs, overtures were made to Prince Nicholas, who refused the honour and, further, raised a regiment of volunteers in defence of Austrian interests. He died at Como on the 24th of November 1833.

His son, Prince PAL ANTAL [Paul Anthony] (1786-1866), entered the diplomatic service. In 1806 he was secretary of the embassy in London, and in 1807 worked with Prince Metternich in the same capacity in Paris. In 1810 he was accredited to the court of Dresden, where he tried in vain to detach Saxony from Napoleon, and in 1814 he accompanied his father on a secret mission to Rome. He took a leading part in all the diplomatic negotiations consequent upon the wars of 1813-1815, especially at the congress of Chatillon, and on the conclusion of peace was, at the express desire of the prince regent, sent as ambassador to London. In 1824 he represented Austria as ambassador extraordinary at the coronation of Charles X., and was the premier Austrian commissioner at the London conferences of 1830-1836. In 1842 he quitted diplomacy for politics and attached himself to "the free-principles party." He was minister for foreign affairs in the first responsible Hungarian ministry (1848), but resigned his post in September because he could see no way of reconciling the court with the nation. The last years of his life were spent in comparative poverty and isolation, as even the Esterhazy-Forchtenstein estates were unequal to the burden of supporting his fabulous extravagance and had to be placed in the hands of curators.

The cadet branch of the house of Frakno, the members of which bear the title of count, was divided into three lines by the sons of Ferencz Esterhazy (1641-1683).

The eldest of these, Count ANTAL (1676-1722), distinguished himself in the war against Rakoczy in 1703, but changed sides in 1704 and commanded the left wing of the Kuruczis at the engagements of Nagyszombat (1704) and Veresko (1705). In 1706 he defeated the imperialist general Guido Stahremberg and penetrated to the walls of Vienna. Still more successful were his operations in the campaign of 1708, when he ravaged Styria, twice invaded Austria, and again threatened Vienna, on which occasion the emperor Joseph narrowly escaped falling into his hands. In 1709 he was routed by the superior forces of General Sigbert Heister at Palota, but brought off the remainder of his arms very skilfully. In 1710 he joined Rakoczy in Poland and accompanied him to France and Turkey. He died in exile at Rodosto on the shores of the Black Sea. His son Balint Jozsef [Valentine Joseph], by Anna Maria Nigrelli, entered the French army, and was the founder of the Hallewyll, or French, branch of the family, which became extinct in the male line in 1876 with Count Ladislas.

See _Count Esterhazy's Campaign Diary_ (Hung.), ed. by K. Thaly (Pest, 1901).

Count BALINT MIKLOS (1740-1805), son of Balint Jozsef, was an enthusiastic partisan of the duc de Choiseul, on whose dismissal, in 1764, he resigned the command of the French regiment of which he was the colonel. It was Esterhazy who conveyed to Marie Antoinette the portrait of Louis XVI. on the occasion of their betrothal, and the close relations he maintained with her after her marriage were more than once the occasion of remonstrance on the part of Maria Theresa, who never seems to have forgotten that he was the grandson of a rebel. At the French court he stood in high favour with the comte d'Artois. He was raised to the rank of marechal de camp, and made inspector of troops in the French service in 1780. At the outbreak of the French Revolution, he was stationed at Valenciennes, where he contrived for a time to keep order, and facilitated the escape of the French _emigres_ by way of Namur; but, in 1790, he hastened back to Paris to assist the king. At the urgent entreaty of the comte d'Artois in 1791 he quitted Paris for Coblenz, accompanied Artois to Vienna, and was sent to the court of St Petersburg the same year to enlist the sympathies of Catherine II. for the Bourbons. He received an estate from Catherine II., and although the gift was rescinded by Paul I., another was eventually granted him. He died at Grodek in Volhynia on the 23rd of July 1805.

See _Memoires_, ed. by E. Daudet (Fr.) (Paris, 1905), and _Lettres_ (Paris, 1906).

Two other sons of Count Ferencz (d. 1685), Ferencz and Jozsef, founded the houses of Dotis and Cseklesz (Landschutz) respectively. Of their descendants, Count MORICZ (1807-1890) of Dotis, Austrian ambassador in Rome until 1856, became in 1861 a member of the ministry formed by Anton Schmerling and in 1865 joined the clerical cabinet of Richard Belcredi. His bitter hostility to Prussia helped to force the government of Vienna into the war of 1866. His official career closed in 1866, but he remained one of the leaders of the clerical party.

See also Count Janos Esterhazy, _Description of the Esterhazy Family_ (Hung., Budapest, 1901). (R. N. B.)

ESTERS, in organic chemistry, compounds formed by the condensation of an alcohol and an acid, with elimination of water; they may also be considered as derivatives of alcohols, in which the hydroxylic hydrogen has been replaced by an acid radical, or as acids in which the hydrogen of the carboxyl group has been replaced by an alkyl or aryl group. In the case of the polybasic acids, all the hydrogen atoms can be replaced in this way, and the compounds formed are known as "neutral esters." If, however, some of the hydrogen of the acid remain undisplaced, then "acid esters" result. These acid esters retain some of the characteristic properties of the acids, forming, for example, salts, with basic oxides. Esters may be prepared by heating the silver salt of an acid with an alkyl iodide; by heating the alcohols or alcoholates with an acid chloride; by distilling the anhydrous sodium salt of an acid with a mixture of the alcohol and concentrated sulphuric acid; or by heating for some hours on the water bath, a mixture of an acid and an alcohol, with a small quantity of hydrochloric or sulphuric acids (E. Fischer and A. Speier, _Ber_., 1896, 28, p. 3252).

The esters of the aliphatic and aromatic acids are colourless neutral liquids, which are generally insoluble in water, but readily dissolve in alcohol and ether. Many possess a fragrant odour and are prepared in large quantities for use as artificial fruit essences. They hydrolyse readily when boiled with solutions of caustic alkalies or mineral acids, yielding the constituent acid and alcohol. When heated with ammonia, they yield acid amides (q.v.). They form unstable addition products with sodium ethylate or methylate. With the Grignard reagent, they form addition compounds which on the addition of water yield tertiary alcohols, except in the case of ethyl formate, where a secondary alcohol is obtained.

OMgBr OMgBr R' / / \ R.CO2C2H5 --> R.C--OC2H5 --> R.C--R' --> R'--C.OH. \ \ / R' R' R'

OMgBr OMgBr R' / / \ H.CO2C2H5 --> H.C--OC2H5 --> H.C--R' --> CH.OH. \ \ / R' R' R'

N. Menschutkin (_Ber._, 1882, 15, p. 1445; _Ann._, 1879, 195, p. 334) examined the rate of esterification of many acids with alcohols. It was found that the normal primary alcohols were all esterified at about the same rate, the secondary alcohols more slowly than the primary, and the tertiary alcohols still more slowly. The investigation also showed that the nature of the acid used affected the result, for in an homologous series of acids it was found that as the molecule of the acid became more complex, the rate of esterification became less. The formation of an ester by the interaction of an acid with an alcohol is a "reversible" or "balanced" action, for as M. Berthelot and L. Pean de St Gilles (_Ann. Chim. Phys._, 1862 (3), 65, p. 385 et seq.) have shown in the case of the formation of ethyl acetate from ethyl alcohol and acetic acid, a point of equilibrium is reached, beyond which the reacting system cannot pass, unless the system be disturbed in some way by the removal of one of the products of the reaction. V. Meyer (_Ber._, 1894, 27, p. 510 et seq.) showed that in benzenoid compounds ortho-substituents exert a great hindering effect on the esterification of alcohols by acids in the presence of hydrochloric acid, this hindering being particularly marked when two substituents are present in the ortho positions to the carboxyl group. In such a case the ester is best prepared by the action of an alkyl halide on the silver salt of the acid, and when once prepared, can only be hydrolysed with great difficulty.

Ethyl formate, H.CO2C2H5, boils at 55 deg. C. and has been used in the artificial preparation of rum. Ethyl acetate (acetic ether), CH3.CO2C2H5, boils at 75 deg. C. Isoamylisovalerate, C4H9.CO2C5H11, boils at 196 deg. C. and has an odour of apples. Ethyl butyrate, C3H7.CO2C2H5, boils at 121 deg. C. and has an odour of pineapple. The fats (q.v.) and waxes (q.v.) are the esters of the higher fatty acids and alcohols. The esters of the higher fatty acids, when distilled under atmospheric pressure, are decomposed, and yield an olefine and a fatty acid.

Esters of the mineral acids are also known and may be prepared by the ordinary methods as given above. The neutral esters are as a rule insoluble in water and distil unchanged; on the other hand, the acid esters are generally soluble in water, are non-volatile, and form salts with bases. _Ethyl hydrogen sulphate_ (sulphovinic acid), C2H5.HSO4, is obtained by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on alcohol. The ester is separated from the solution by means of its barium salt, and the salt decomposed by the addition of the calculated amount of sulphuric acid. It is a colourless oily liquid of strongly acid reaction; its aqueous solution decomposes on standing and on heating it forms diethyl sulphate and sulphuric acid. _Dimethyl sulphate_, (CH3)2SO4, is a colourless liquid which boils at 187 deg.-188 deg. C., with partial decomposition. It is used as a methylating agent (F. Ullmann). Great care should be taken in using dimethyl and diethyl sulphates, as the respiratory organs are affected by the vapours, leading to severe attacks of pneumonia. _Ethyl nitrate_, C2H5.ONO2, is a colourless liquid which boils at 86.3 deg. C. It is prepared by the action of nitric acid on ethyl alcohol (some urea being added to the nitric acid, in order to destroy any nitrous acid that might be produced in secondary reactions and which, if not removed, would cause explosive decomposition of the ethyl nitrate). It burns with a white flame and is soluble in water. When heated with ammonia it yields ethylamine nitrate, and when reduced with tin and hydrochloric acid it forms hydroxylamine (q.v.) (W.C. Lossen). _Ethyl nitrite_, C2H5.ONO, is a liquid which boils at 18 deg. C.; the crude product obtained by distilling a mixture of alcohol, sulphuric and nitric acids and copper turnings is used in medicine under the name of "sweet spirits of nitre." _Amyl nitrite_, C5H11.ONO, boils at 96 deg. C. and is used in the preparation of the anhydrous diazonium salts (E. Knoevenagel, _Ber._, 1890, 23, p. 2094). It is also used in medicine.

ESTHER. The _Book of Esther_, in the Bible, relates how a Jewish maiden, Esther, cousin and foster-daughter of Mordecai, was made his queen by the Persian king Ahasuerus (Xerxes) after he had divorced Vashti; next, how Esther and Mordecai frustrated Haman's endeavour to extirpate the Jews; how Haman, the grand-vizier, fell, and Mordecai succeeded him; how Esther obtained the king's permission for the Jews to destroy all who might attack them on the day which Haman had appointed by lot for their destruction; and lastly, how the feast of Purim (Lots?) was instituted to commemorate their deliverance. Frequent incidental references are made to Persian court-usages (explanations are given in i. 13, viii. 8), while on the other hand the religious rites of the Jews (except fasting), and even Jerusalem and the temple, and the name of Israel, are studiously ignored. Even the name of God is not once mentioned, perhaps from a dread of its profanation during the Saturnalia of Purim. The early popularity of the book is shown by the interpolated passages in the Septuagint and the Old Latin versions.

The criticism of _Esther_ began in the 18th century. As soon as the questioning spirit arose, the strangeness of many statements in the book leaped into view. A moderate scholar of our day can find no historical nucleus, and calls it a sort of historical romance.[1] The very first verses in the book startle the reader by their exaggerations, e.g. a banquet lasting 180 days, "127 provinces." Farther on, the improbabilities of the plot are noticeable. Esther, on her elevation, keeps her Jewish origin secret (ii. 10; cf. vii. 3 ff.), although she has been taken from the house of her uncle, who is known to be a Jew (iii. 4; cf. vi. 13), and has remained in constant intercourse with him (ii. 11, 19, 20, 22; cf. iv. 4-17). We are further told that the grand-vizier was an Agagite or Amalekite (iii. 1, &c.); would the nobility of Persia have tolerated this? Or did Haman too keep his non-Persian origin secret? Also that Mordecai offered a gross affront to Haman, for which no slighter punishment would satisfy Haman than the destruction of the whole Jewish race (iii. 2-6). Of this savage design eleven months' notice is given (iii. 12-14); and when the danger has been averted by the cleverness of Esther, the provincial Jews are allowed to butcher 75,000, and those in the capital 800 of their Persian fellow-subjects (ix. 6-16).

It is urged, on the other hand, that the assembly mentioned in i. 3 may be that referred to by Herodotus (vii. 8) as having preceded the expedition against Greece. This hypothesis, however, requires us to suppose that Xerxes had returned from Sardis to Susa by the tenth month of the seventh year of his reign, which is barely credible. In the reckoning of 127 provinces (cf. Dan. vi. 1; 1 Esd. iii. 2) satrapies and sub-satrapies may be confounded. It is at any rate correct to include India among the provinces; this is justified, not only by Herodotus (iii. 94), but by the inscriptions of Darius at Persepolis and Naksh-i-Rustam. Herodotus again (vii. 8) confirms the custom referred to in Esth. ii. 12. But what authority can make the conduct of Mordecai credible? To-day the harem is impenetrable, while "any one declining to stand as the grand-vizier passes is almost beaten to death."[2] This, surely, is what a real Mordecai would have suffered from a real Haman. Even the capricious Xerxes would never have permitted the entire destruction of one of the races of the empire, nor would a vizier have proposed it.

Serious difficulties of another kind remain. Mordecai is represented as a fellow-captive of Jeconiah (597 B.C.), and grand-vizier in Xerxes's twelfth year (474 B.C.)! This is parallel to the strange statement in Tobit xiv. 15. And how can we find room for Esther as queen by the side of Amestris (Herod. vii. 14, ix. 112)? How, too, can a Jewess have been a legal queen (see Herod. iii. 84)? Then take the supposed Persian proper names. "Ahasuerus" may no doubt stand, but very few of the rest (see Noldeke, _Ency. Bib._ col. 1402). As to the style, the general verdict is that it points to a late date (see Driver, Introd.^6, p. 484). Altogether, critics decline to date the book earlier than the 3rd or even 2nd century B.C.

So far we have only been carrying on 18th-century criticism. In more recent years, however, new lines of inquiry have been opened up. First of all by the great Semitic scholar Lagarde. His thesis (seldom defended now) was that Purim corresponds to Furdigan, the name of the old Persian New Year's and All Souls' festival held in spring, on which the Persians were wont to exchange presents (cf. Esth. ix. 19). In 1891 came a new explanation of Esther from Zimmern. It is true that in its earlier form his theory was very incomplete. But in justice to this scholar we may notice that from the first he looked for light to Babylonia, and that many other critics now take up the same position. There is also another new point which has to be mentioned, viz. that, judging from our experience elsewhere, the Book of Esther has probably passed through various stages of development. Here, then, are two points which call for investigation, viz. (1) a possible mythological element in Esther, and (2) possible stages of development prior to that represented by the Hebrew text.

As to the first point. The Second Targum (on Esth. ii. 7) long ago declared that Esther was so called "because she was like the planet Venus." Recent scholars have expressed the same idea more critically. Esther is a modification of Ishtar, the name of the Babylonian goddess of fertility and of the planet Venus, whose myth must have been partially known to the Israelites even in pre-exilic times,[3] and after the fall of the state must have acquired a still stronger hold on Jewish exiles. A general knowledge of the myth of Marduk among the Israelites cannot indeed be proved. Singularly enough, the Babylonian colonists in the cities of Samaria are said to have made idols, not of Marduk, but of a deity called Succoth-benoth[4] (2 Kings xvii. 30). Nor does the Second Targum help us here; it gives a wild explanation of Mordecai as "pure myrrh." Still it is plain that the name of the god Marduk (Merodach) was known to the Jews, and the Cosmogony in Gen. i. is considered by critics to have ultimately arisen out of the myth of Marduk's conflict with the dragon (see COSMOGONY). At any rate the name Mordecai (the vocalization is uncertain) looks very much like Marduk, which, with terminations added, often occurs in cuneiform documents as a personal name.[5] Add to this, that, according to Jensen, Ishtar in mythology was the cousin of Marduk, just as the legend represents Esther as the cousin of Mordecai.[6] The same scholar also accounts for Esther's other name Hadassah (Esth. ii. 7); _hadasshatu_ in Babylonian means "bride," which may have been a title of Ishtar.

But we cannot stop short here. Unless the mythological key can also explain Haman and Vashti, it is of no use. Jensen, now followed by Zimmern, is equal to the occasion. Haman, he says, is a corruption of Hamman or Humman or Uman, the name of the chief deity of the Elamites, in whose capital (Susa) the scene of the narrative is laid, while Vashti is Mashti (or Vashti), probably the name of an Elamite goddess.

Following the real or fancied light of these names, Prof. Jensen holds that the Esther-legend is based on a mythological account of the victory of the Babylonian deities over those of Elam, which in plain prose means the deliverance of ancient Babylonia from its Elamite oppressors, and that such an account was closely connected with the Babylonian New Year's festival, called Zagmuk, just as the Esther-legend is connected with the festival of Purim.

We are bound, however, to mention some critical objections. (1) The Babylonian festival corresponding to Purim was not the spring festival of Zagmuk, but the summer festival of Ishtar, which is probably the Sacaea of Berossus, an orgiastic festival analogous to Purim. (2) According to Jensen's theory, Mordecai, and not Esther, ought to be the direct cause of Haman's ruin. (3) No such Babylonian account as Jensen postulates can be indicated. (4) The identifications of names are hazardous. Fancy a descendant of Kish called Marduk, and an "Agagite" called Hamman! Elsewhere Mordecai (Ezra ii. 2; Neh. vii. 7) occurs among names which are certainly not Persian (Bigvai is no exception), and Haman (Tobit xiv. 10) appears as a nephew of Achiachar, which is not a Persian name. Esther, moreover, ought to be parallel to Judith; fancy likening the representative of Israel to the goddess Ishtar!

Next, as to the preliminary literary phases of Esther. Such phases are probable, considering the later phases represented in the Septuagint. There may have once existed in Hebrew a story of the deadly feud between Mordecai (if that be the original name) and Haman, with elements suggested by the story of the battle between the Supreme God and the dragon (see COSMOGONY). As the legend stands, Mordecai and Esther seem to be in each other's way. In a passage (i. 5 in LXX.) only found in the Septuagint, but which may have belonged to the original Esther, reference is made to a dream of Mordecai respecting two great dragons, i.e. Mordecai and Haman (x. 7). This seems to confirm the view here mentioned. If so, however, there must also have been an Esther-legend, which was afterwards worked up with that of Mordecai. This is, in fact, the view of Erbt. Winckler takes a different line. Linguistic facts and certain points in the contents seem to him to show that our Esther is a work of the age of the Seleucidae; more precisely he thinks of the time of the revolt of Molon under Antiochus III. Of course there was a Book of Esther before this, and even in its redacted form our Esther reflects the period of three Persian kings, viz. Cyrus, Cambyses and Darius. Lastly, Cheyne (_Ency. Bib._ "Purim," S 7), while agreeing with Winckler that the book is based on an earlier narrative, holds that that earlier text differed more widely from the present in its geographical and historical setting than Winckler seems to suppose. The problem of the origin of the name Purim, however, can hardly be said to have received a final solution.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.--Kuenen, _History of Israel_, iii. (1875), 148-153; Lagarde, _Purim_ (1887); Zimmern in Stade's _Zeitschrift_, xi. (1891), pp. 157-169, and _Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament_^(3), 485, 515-520, Jensen in Wildeboer's _Esther_ (in Marti's series, 1898), pp. 173-175; Winckler, _Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament_^(3), p. 288, _Altorientalische Forschungen_, 3rd ser. i. 1-64; Erbt, _Die Purimsage_ (1900); _Ency. Biblica_, articles "Esther" and "Purim" (a composite article). (T. K. C.)

ADDITIONS TO BOOK OF ESTHER. These "additions" were written originally in Greek and subsequently interpolated in the Greek translation of the Book of Esther. Here the principle of interpolation has reached its maximum. Of 270 verses, 107 are not to be found in the Hebrew text. These additions are distributed throughout the book in the Greek, but in the Latin Bible they were relegated to the end of the canonical book by Jerome--an action that has rendered them meaningless. In the Greek the additions form with the canonical text a consecutive history. They were made probably in the time of the Maccabees, and their aim was to supply the religious element which is so completely lacking in the canonical work. The first, which gives the dream of Mordecai and the events which led to his advancement at the court of Artaxerxes, precedes chap. i. of the canonical text: the second and fifth, which follow iii. 13 and viii. 12, furnish copies of the letters of Artaxerxes referred to in these verses; the third and fourth, which are inserted after chap. iv., consist of the prayers of Mordecai and Esther, with an account of Esther's approach to the king. The last, which closes the book, tells of the institution of the feast of Purim. The Greek text appears in two widely-differing recensions. The one is supported by AB[Hebrew: alef], and the other--a revision of the first--by codices 19, 93a, 108b. The latter is believed to have been the work of Lucian. Swete, _Old Test. in Greek_, ii. 755, has given the former, while Lagarde has published both texts with critical annotations in his _Librorum Veteris Testamenti Canonicorum_, i. 504-541 (1883), and Scholz in his _Kommentar uber das Buch Esther_ (1892).

For an account of the Latin and Syriac versions, the Targums, and the later Rabbinic literature connected with this subject, and other questions relating to these additions, see Fritzsche, _Exeget. Handbuch zu den Apok._ (1851), i. 67-108; Schurer^(3), iii. 330-332; Fuller in _Speaker's Apocr._ i. 360-402; Ryssel in Kautzsch's _Apok. u. Pseud._ i. 193-212; Siegfried in _Jewish Encyc._ v. 237 sqq.; Swete, _Introd. to the Old Test. in Greek_, 257 seq.; L.B. Paton, "A Text-Critical Apparatus to the Book of Esther" in _O.T. and Semitic Studies in Memory of W.R. Harper_ (Chicago, 1908). (R. H. C.)

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Kautzsch, _Old Testament Literature_ (1898), p. 130.

[2] So Morier, the English minister to the Persian court, quoted by Dean Stanley.

[3] See Zimmern, _Die Keilinschriften und das Alte Test_.^(3), p. 438.

[4] _Ibid._ p. 396.

[5] Johns, _Assyrian Deeds_, iii. 198-199; _Amer. Journ. of Sem. Languages_ (April 1902), p. 158.

[6] So too Zimmern, in Gunkel's _Schopfung und Chaos_, p. 313, note 2.

ESTHONIA (Ger. _Ehstland_ and _Esthland_, Esthonian _Eestimaa_ and _Meie-maa_, also _Viroma_ and _Rahvama_; Lettish _Iggaun Senna_), a Baltic province of Russia, stretching along the south coast of the Gulf of Finland, and having Lake Peipus and Livonia on the S. and the government of St Petersburg on the E. An archipelago of islands, of which Dago is the largest, belongs to this government (Oesel belongs to Livonia). The area is 7818 sq. m., 503 sq. m. of this being insular. The surface is low, not exceeding 100 ft. in altitude along the coast and alongside Lake Peipus, while in the interior the average elevation ranges from 200 to 300 ft., and nowhere exceeds 450 ft. It was entirely covered with the bottom moraine of the great ice-sheet of the Glacial Epoch, resting upon Silurian sandstones and limestones. In places sands and clays overlie the glacial deposits. The principal stream is the Narova, which issues from Lake Peipus, flows along the eastern border, and empties into the Gulf of Finland. The other drainage arteries are all small, but many in number; while lakes and marshes aggregate fully 22-1/2% of the total surface. The climate is severe, great cold being experienced in winter, though moist west winds exercise a moderating influence. Nevertheless the annual mean temperature ranges between 39 deg. and 43 deg. Fahr. In 1878 the nobility, mostly of German descent, owned and farmed 52% of the land; 42% was farmed, but not owned, by the peasants, mostly Esths or Ehsts, and only 3% was owned by persons outside the ranks of the nobility. Since then one-fourth of the peasantry have been enabled to purchase their holdings, more than half a million acres having passed into their possession. Agriculture is the chief occupation, and it is, on all the larger holdings, carried on with greater scientific knowledge than in any other part of Russia. Of the total area about 16.6% is under cultivation; meadows and grass-lands amount to 41.7%; and forests cover 19%. The principal crops are rye, oats, barley and potatoes, with large quantities of vegetables. Cattle-breeding flourishes, and meat and butter are constantly increasing items of export. The manufactories consist chiefly of distilleries (over 13,500,000 gallons annually), cotton (at Kranholm falls on the Narova), woollen, flour, paper and saw mills, iron and machinery works, and match factories. Fishing is active along the coast, especially for anchovies. The province is intersected by a railway running from St Petersburg to Reval, with branches from the latter city westwards to Baltic Port and southwards into Livonia, and from Taps south to Yuryev (Dorpat). The chief seaports are Reval, Baltic Port, Hapsal, Kunda and Dago. Esthonia is divided into four districts, the chief towns of which are Reval (pop. in 1897, 66,292), the capital of the province; Hapsal, a lively watering-place (3238); Weissenstein (2509); and Wesenberg (5560). The population, which consists chiefly of Ehstes (365,959 in 1897), Russians (18,000), Germans (16,000), Swedes (5800), and some Jews, is growing fairly fast: in 1870 it numbered 323,960, and in 1897 413,747, of whom 210,199 were women and 76,315 lived in towns; in 1906 it was estimated at 451,700. Ninety-six per cent. of the whole belong to the Lutheran Church. Education is, for Russia, relatively high.

The Esths, Ehsts or Esthonians, who call themselves Tallopoeg and Maamees, are known to the Russians as Chukhni or Chukhontsi, to the Letts as Iggauni, and to the Finns as Virolaiset. They belong to the Finnish family, and consequently to the Ural-Altaic division of the human race. Altogether they number close upon one million, and are thus distributed: 365,959 in Esthonia (in 1897), 518,594 in Livonia, 64,116 in the government of St Petersburg, 25,458 in that of Pskov, and 12,855 in other parts of Russia. As a race they exhibit manifest evidences of their Ural-Altaic or Mongolic descent in their short stature, absence of beard, oblique eyes, broad face, low forehead and small mouth. In addition to that they are an under-sized, ill-thriven people, with long arms and thin, short legs. They cling tenaciously to their native language, which is closely allied to the Finnish, and divisible into two, or according to some authorities into three, principal dialects--Dorpat Esthonian and Reval Esthonian, with Pernau Esthonian. Reval Esthonian, which preserves more carefully the full inflectional forms and pays greater attention to the laws of euphony, is recognized as the literary language. Since 1873 the cultivation of their mother-tongue has been sedulously promoted by an Esthonian Literary Society (_Eesti Korjameeste Selts_), which publishes _Toimetused_, or "Instructions" in all sorts of subjects. They have a decided love of poetry, and exhibit great facility in improvising verses and poems on all occasions, and they sing, everywhere, from morning to night. Like the Finns they possess rich stores of national songs. These, which bear an unmistakable family likeness to those of the great Finnish epic of the _Kalevala_, were collected as the Kalevi Poeg, and edited by Kreutswald (1857), and translated into German by Reinthal (1857-1859) and Bertram (1861) and by Lowe (1900). Other collections of _Esthnische Volkslieder_ have been published by Neuss (1850-1852) and Kreutzwald and Neuss (1854); while Kreutzwald (1866) and Jannsen (1888) have published collections of legends and national tales. The earliest publication in Esthonian was a Lutheran catechism in the 16th century. An Esthonian translation of the New Testament was printed at Reval in 1715. Between 1813 and 1832 there appeared at Pernau twenty volumes of _Beitrage zur genauern Kenntniss der esthnischen Sprache_, by Rosenplanter, and from 1840 onwards many valuable papers on Esthonian subjects were contributed to the _Verhandlungen der gelehrten esthnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat_. F.J. Wiedemann, who laboured indefatigably in the registration and preservation of matters connected with Esthonian language and lore, published an _Esthnisch-deutsches Worterbuch_ (1865; 2nd ed. by Hurt, 1891, &c.), and in 1903 there appeared at Reval a _Deutsch-esthnisches Worterbuch_, by Ploompun and Kann.

The Esthonians first appear in history as a warlike and predatory race, the terror of the Baltic seamen in consequence of their piracies. More than one of the Danish kings made serious attempts to subdue them. Canute VI. invaded their country (1194-1196) and forced baptism upon many of them, but no sooner did his war-ships disappear than they reverted to their former heathenism. In 1219 Waldemar II. undertook a more formidable crusade against them, in the course of which he founded the town and episcopal see of Reval. By his efforts the northern portion of the race were made submissive to the Danish crown; but, though conquered, they were by no means subdued, and were incessantly in revolt, until, after a great rebellion in 1343, Waldemar IV. Atterdag sold for 19,000 marks his portion of Esthonia in 1346, to the order of the Knights of the Sword. These German crusaders had already, after a quarter of a century's fighting, in 1224 gained possession of the regions inhabited by the southern portion of the race, that is those now included in Livonia. From that time for nearly six hundred years or more the Esthonians were practically reduced to a state of serfdom to the German landowners. In 1521 the nobles and cities of Esthonia voluntarily placed themselves under the protection of the crown of Sweden; but after the wars of Charles XII., Esthonia was formally ceded to his victorious rival, Peter the Great, by the peace of Nystad (1721). Serfdom was abolished in 1817 by Tsar Alexander I.; but the condition of the peasants was so little improved that they rose in open revolt in 1859. Since 1878, however, a vast change for the better has been effected in their economic position (see above). The determining feature of their recent history has been the attempt made by the Russian government (since 1881) and the Orthodox Greek Church (since 1883) to russify and convert the inhabitants of the province, Germans and Esths alike, by enforcing the use of Russian in the schools and by harsh and repressive measures aimed at their native language.

See Merkel, _Die freien Letten und Esthen_ (1820); Parrot, _Versuch einer Entwickelung der Sprache, Abstammung, &c., der Liwen, Latten, Eesten_ (1839); F. Kruse, _Urgeschichte des esthnischen Volksstammes_ (1846); Wiedemann, _Grammatik der esthnischen Sprache_ (1875), and _Aus dem innern und aussern Leben der Esthen_ (1876); Koppen, _Die Bewohner Esthlands_ (1847); F. Muller, _Beitrage zur Orographie und Hydrographie von Esthland_ (1869-1871); Bunge, _Das Herzogthum Esthland unter den Konigen von Danemark_ (1877); and Seraphim, _Geschichte Liv-, Est-, und Kurlands_ (2nd ed., 1897) and various papers in the _Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen_. (P. A. K.; J. T. Be.; C. El.)

ESTIENNE (or ETIENNE; the French form of the name; anglicized to Stephens, and latinized to Stephanus), a French family of scholars and printers.

The founder of the race was HENRI ESTIENNE (d. 1520), the scion of a noble family of Provence, who came to Paris in 1502, and soon afterwards set up a printing establishment at the top of the rue Saint-Jean de Beauvais, on the hill of Saint-Genevieve opposite the law school. He died in 1520, and, his three sons being minors, the business was carried on by his foreman Simon de Colines, who in 1521 married his widow.

ROBERT ESTIENNE (1503-1559) was Henri's second son. After his father's death he acted as assistant to his stepfather, and in this capacity superintended the printing of a Latin edition of the New Testament in 16mo (1523). Some slight alterations which he had introduced into the text brought upon him the censures of the faculty of theology. It was the first of a long series of disputes between him and that body. It appears that he had intimate relations with the new Evangelical preachers almost from the beginning of the movement, and that soon after this time he definitely joined the Reformed Church. In 1526 he entered into possession of his father's printing establishment, and adopted as his device the celebrated olive-tree (a reminiscence doubtless of his grandmother's family of Montolivet), with the motto from the epistle to the Romans (xi. 20), _Noli altum sapere_, sometimes with the addition _sed time_. In 1528 he married Perrette, a daughter of the scholar and printer Josse Bade (Jodocus Badius), and in the same year he published his first Latin Bible, an edition in folio, upon which he had been at work for the last four years. In 1532 appeared his _Thesaurus linguae Latinae_, a dictionary of Latin words and phrases, upon which for two years he had toiled incessantly, with no other assistance than that of Thierry of Beauvais. A second edition, greatly enlarged and improved, appeared in 1536, and a third, still further improved, in 3 vols. folio, in 1543. Though the _Thesaurus_ is now superseded, its merits must not be forgotten. It was vastly superior to anything of the kind that had appeared before; it formed the basis of future labours, and even as late as 1734 was considered worthy of being re-edited. In 1539 Robert was appointed king's printer for Hebrew and Latin, an office to which, after the death of Conrad Neobar in 1540, he united that of king's printer for Greek. In 1541 he was entrusted by Francis I. with the task of procuring from Claude Garamond, the engraver and type-founder, three sets of Greek type for the royal press. The middle size were the first ready, and with these Robert printed the _editio princeps_ of the _Ecclesiasticae Historiae_ of Eusebius and others (1544). The smallest size were first used for the 16mo edition of the New Testament known as the _O mirificam_ (1546), while with the largest size was printed the magnificent folio of 1550. This edition involved the printer in fresh disputes with the faculty of theology, and towards the end of the following year he left his native town for ever, and took refuge at Geneva, where he published in 1552 a caustic and effective answer to his persecutors under the title _Ad censuras theologorum Parisiensium, quibus Biblia a R. Stephano, Typographo Regio, ex usa calumniose notarunt, eiusdem R. S. responsio_. A French translation, which is remarkable for the excellence of its style, was published by him in the same year (printed in Renouard's _Annales de l'imprimerie des Estienne_). At Geneva Robert proved himself an ardent partisan of Calvin, several of whose works he published. He died there on the 7th of September 1559.

It is by his work in connexion with the Bible, and especially as an editor of the New Testament, that he is on the whole best known. The text of his New Testament of 1550, either in its original form or in such slightly modified form as it assumed in the Elzevir text of 1634, remains to this day the traditional text. But this is due rather to its typographical beauty than to any critical merit. The readings of the fifteen MSS. which Robert's son Henri had collated for the purpose were merely introduced into the margin. The text was still almost exactly that of Erasmus. It was, however, the first edition ever published with a critical apparatus of any sort. Of the whole Bible Robert printed eleven editions--eight in Latin, two in Hebrew and one in French; while of the New Testament alone he printed twelve--five in Greek, five in Latin and two in French. In the Greek New Testament of 1551 (printed at Geneva) the present division into verses was introduced for the first time. The _editiones principes_ which issued from Robert's press were eight in number, viz. _Eusebius_, including the _Praeparatio evangelica_ and the _Demonstratio evangelica_ as well as the _Historia ecclesiastica_ already mentioned (1544-1546), _Moschopulus_ (1545), _Dionysius of Halicarnassus_ (February 1547), _Alexander Trallianus_ (January 1548), _Dio Cassius_ (January 1548), _Justin Martyr_ (1551), _Xiphilinus_ (1551), _Appian_ (1551), the last being completed, after Robert's departure from Paris, by his brother Charles, and appearing under his name. These editions, all in folio, except the _Moschopulus_, which is in 4to, are unrivalled for beauty. Robert also printed numerous editions of Latin classics, of which perhaps the folio _Virgil_ of 1532 is the most noteworthy, and a large quantity of Latin grammars and other educational works, many of which were written by Maturin Cordier, his friend and co-worker in the cause of humanism.

CHARLES ESTIENNE (1504 or 1505-1564), the third son of Henri, was, like his brother Robert, a man of considerable learning. After the usual humanistic training he studied medicine, and took his doctor's degree at Paris. He was for a time tutor to Jean Antoine de Baif, the future poet. In 1551, when Robert Estienne left Paris for Geneva, Charles, who had remained a Catholic, took charge of his printing establishment, and in the same year was appointed king's printer. In 1561 he became bankrupt, and he is said to have died in a debtors' prison.

His principal works are _Praedium Rusticum_ (1554), a collection of tracts which he had compiled from ancient writers on various branches of agriculture, and which continued to be a favourite book down to the end of the 17th century; _Dictionarium historicum ac poeticum_ (1553), the first French encyclopaedia; _Thesaurus Ciceronianus_ (1557), and _De dissectione partium corporis humani libri tres_, with well-drawn woodcuts (1548). He also published a translation of an Italian comedy, _Gli Ingannati_, under the title of _Le Sacrifice_ (1543; republished as _Les Abusez_, 1549), which had some influence on the development of French comedy; and _Paradoxes_ (1553), an imitation of the _Paradossi_ of Ortensio Landi.

HENRI ESTIENNE (1531-1598), sometimes called Henri II., was the eldest son of Robert. In the preface to his edition of Aulus Gellius (1585), addressed to his son Paul, he gives an interesting account of his father's household, in which, owing to the various nationalities of those who were employed on the press, Latin was used as a common language. Henri thus picked up Latin as a child, but by his own request he was allowed to learn Greek as a serious study before Latin. At the age of fifteen he become a pupil of Pierre Danes, at that time the first Greek scholar in France. Two years later he began to attend the lectures of Jacques Toussain, one of the royal professors of Greek, and in the same year (1545) was employed by his father to collate a MS. of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. In 1547 he went to Italy, where he spent three years in hunting for and collating MSS. and in intercourse with learned men. In 1550 he visited England, where he was favourably received by Edward VI., and then Flanders, where he learnt Spanish. In 1551 he joined his father at Geneva, which henceforth became his home. In 1554 he gave to the world, as the first fruits of his researches, two first editions, viz. a tract of Dionysius of Halicarnassus and the so-called "Anacreon." In 1556 he discovered at Rome ten new books (xi.-xx.) of Diodorus Siculus. In 1557 he issued from the press which in the previous year he had set up at Geneva three first editions, viz. _Athenagoras, Maximus Tyrius_, and some fragments of Greek historians, including Appian's [Greek: Annibalike], and [Greek: Iberike] and an edition of Aeschylus, in which for the first time the _Agamemnon_ was printed in entirety and as a separate play. In 1559 he printed a Latin translation from his own pen of Sextus Empiricus, and an edition of Diodorus Siculus with the new books. His father dying in the same year, he became under his will owner of his press, subject, however, to the condition of keeping it at Geneva. In 1566 he published his best-known French work, the _Apologie pour Herodote_, or, as he himself called it, _L'Introduction au traite de la conformite des merveilles anciennes avec les modernes ou Traite preparatif a l'Apologie pour Herodote_. Some passages being considered objectionable by the Geneva consistory, he was compelled to cancel the pages containing them. The book became highly popular, and within sixteen years twelve editions were printed. In 1572 he published the great work upon which he had been labouring for many years, the _Thesaurus Graecae linguae_, in 5 vols. fol. The publication in 1578 of his _Deux Dialogues du nouveau francois ilalianize_ brought him into a fresh dispute with the consistory. To avoid their censure he went to Paris, and resided at the French court for a year. On his return to Geneva he was summoned before the consistory, and, proving contumacious, was imprisoned for a week. From this time his life became more and more of a nomad one. He is to be found at Basel, Heidelberg, Vienna, Pest, everywhere but at Geneva, these journeys being undertaken partly in the hope of procuring patrons and purchasers, for the large sums which he had spent on such publications as the _Thesaurus_ and the _Plato_ of 1578 had almost ruined him. His press stood nearly at a standstill. A few editions of classical authors were brought out, but each successive one showed a falling off. Such value as the later ones had was chiefly due to the notes furnished by Casaubon, who in 1586 had married his daughter Florence. His last years were marked by ever-increasing infirmity of mind and temper. In 1597 he left Geneva for the last time. After visiting Montpellier, where Casaubon was now professor, he started for Paris, but was seized with sudden illness at Lyons, and died there at the end of January 1598.

Few men have ever served the cause of learning more devotedly. For over thirty years the amount which he produced, whether as printer, editor or original writer, was enormous. The productions of his press, though printed with the same beautiful type as his father's books, are, owing to the poorness of the paper and ink, inferior to them in general beauty. The best, perhaps, from a typographical point of view, are the _Poetae Graeci principes_ (folio, 1566), the _Plutarch_ (13 vols. 8vo, 1572), and the _Plato_ (3 vols. folio, 1578). It was rather his scholarship which gave value to his editions. He was not only his own press-corrector but his own editor. Though by the latter half of the 16th century nearly all the important Greek and Latin authors that we now possess had been published, his untiring activity still found some gleanings. Eighteen first editions of Greek authors and one of a Latin author are due to his press. The most important have been already mentioned. Henri's reputation as a scholar and editor has increased of late years. His familiarity with the Greek language has always been admitted to have been quite exceptional; but he has been accused of want of taste and judgment, of carelessness and rashness. Special censure has been passed on his _Plutarch_, in which he is said to have introduced conjectures of his own into the text, while pretending to have derived them from MS. authority. But a late editor, Sintenis, has shown that, though like all the other editors of his day he did not give references to his authorities, every one of his supposed conjectures can be traced to some MS. Whatever may be said as to his taste or his judgment, it seems that he was both careful and scrupulous, and that he only resorted to conjecture when authority failed him. And, whatever the merit of his conjectures, he was at any rate the first to show what conjecture could do towards restoring a hopelessly corrupt passage. The work, however, on which his fame as a scholar is most surely based is the _Thesaurus Graecae linguae_. After making due allowance for the fact that considerable materials for the work had been already collected by his father, and that he received considerable assistance from the German scholar Sylburg, he is still entitled to the very highest praise as the producer of a work which was of the greatest service to scholarship and which in those early days of Greek learning could have been produced by no one but a giant. Two editions of the _Thesaurus_ were published in the 19th century--at London by Valpy (1815-1825) and at Paris by Didot (1831-1863).

It was one of Henri Estienne's great merits that, unlike nearly all the French scholars who preceded him, he did not neglect his own language. In the _Traite de la conformite du langage francois avec le Grec_ (published in 1565, but without date; ed. L. Feugere, 1850), French is asserted to have, among modern languages, the most affinity with Greek, the first of all languages. _Deux Dialogues du nouveau francois italianize_ (Geneva, 1578; ed. P. Ristelhuber, 2 vols., 1885) was directed against the fashion prevailing in the court of Catherine de' Medici of using Italian words and forms. The _Project du livre intitule de la Precellence du langage francois_ (Paris, 1579; ed. E. Huguet, 1896) treats of the superiority of French to Italian. An interesting feature of the _Precellence_ is the account of French proverbs, and, Henry III. having expressed some doubts as to the genuineness of some of them, Henri Estienne published, in 1594, _Les Premices ou le I. livre des Proverbes epigrammatizez_ (never reprinted and very rare).

Finally, there remains the _Apologie pour Herodote_, his most famous work. The ostensible object of the book is to show that the strange stories in Herodotus may be paralleled by equally strange ones of modern times. Virtually it is a bitter satire on the writer's age, especially on the Roman Church. Put together without any method, its extreme desultoriness makes it difficult to read continuously, but the numerous stories, collected partly from various literary sources, notably from the preachers Menot and Maillard, partly from the writer's own multifarious experience, with which it is packed, make it an interesting commentary on the manners and fashions of the time. But satire, to be effective, should be either humorous or righteously indignant, and, while such humour as there is in the _Apologie_ is decidedly heavy, the writer's indignation is generally forgotten in his evident relish for scandal. The style is, after all, its chief merit. Though it bears evident traces of hurry, it is, like that of all Henri Estienne's French writings, clear, easy and vigorous, uniting the directness and sensuousness of the older writers with a suppleness and logical precision which at this time were almost new elements in French prose. An edition of the _Apologie_ has recently been published by Liseux (ed. Ristelhuber, 2 vols., 1879), after one of the only two copies of the original uncancelled edition that are known to exist. The very remarkable political pamphlet entitled _Discours merveilleux de la vie et actions et deportemens de Catherine de Medicis_, which appeared in 1574, has been ascribed to Henri Estienne, but the evidence both internal and external is conclusive against his being the author of it. Of his Latin writings the most worthy of notice are the _De Latinitate falso suspecta_ (1576), the _Pseudo-Cicero_ (1577) and the _Nizoliodidascalus_ (1578), all three written against the Ciceronians, and the _Francofordiense Emporium_ (1574), a panegyric on the Frankfort fair (reprinted with a French translation by Liseux, 1875). He also wrote a large quantity of indifferent Latin verses, including a long poem entitled _Musa monitrix Principum_ (Basel, 1590).

The primary authorities for an account of the Estiennes are their own works. In the garrulous and egotistical prefaces which Henri was in the habit of prefixing to his editions will be found many scattered biographical details. Twenty-seven letters from Henri to John Crato of Crafftheim (ed. F. Passow, 1830) have been printed, and there is one of Robert's in Herminjard's _Correspondence des Reformateurs dans de pays de langue francaise_ (9 vols. published 1866-1897), while a few other contemporary references to him will be found in the same work. The secondary authorities are Janssen van Almeloveen, _De vitis Stephanorum_ (Amsterdam, 1683); Maittaire, _Stephanorum historia_ (London, 1709); A.A. Renouard, _Annales de l'imprimerie des Estienne_ (2nd ed., Paris, 1843); the article on Estienne by A.F. Didot in the _Nouv. Biog. gen._; Mark Pattison, _Essays_, i. 67 ff. (1889); L. Clement, _Henri Estienne et son oeuvre francaise_ (Paris, 1899). There is a good account of Henri's _Thesaurus_ in the _Quart. Rev._ for January 1820, written by Bishop Bromfield. (A. A. T.)

ESTON, an urban district in the Cleveland parliamentary division of the North Riding of Yorkshire, England, 4 m. S.E. of Middlesbrough, on a branch of the North Eastern railway. Pop. (1901) 11,199. This is one of the principal centres from which the great ironstone deposits of the Cleveland Hills are worked, and there are extensive blast-furnaces, iron-foundries and steam sawing-mills in the district. Immediately W. of Eston lies the urban district of Ormesby (pop. 9482), and the whole district is densely populated (see MIDDLESBROUGH). Marton, west of Ormesby, was the birthplace of Captain Cook (1728). Numerous early earthworks fringe the hills to the south.

ESTOPPEL (from O. Fr. _estopper_, to stop, bar; _estoupe_, mod. _etoupe_, a plug of tow; Lat. _stuppa_), a rule in the law of evidence by which a party in litigation is prohibited from asserting or denying something, when such assertion or denial would be inconsistent with his own previous statements or conduct. Estoppel is said to arise in three ways--(1) by record or judgment, (2) by deed, and (3) by matter _in pais_ or conduct. (1) Where a cause of action has been tried and final judgment has been pronounced, the judgment is conclusive--either party attempting to renew the litigation by a new action would be estopped by the judgment. "Every judgment is conclusive proof as against parties and privies, of facts directly in issue in the case, actually decided by the court, and appearing from the judgment itself to be the ground on which it was based."--Stephen's _Digest of the Law of Evidence_, Art. 41. (2) It is one of the privileges of _deeds_ as distinguished from simple contracts that they operate by way of estoppel. "A man shall always be estopped by his own deed, or not permitted to aver or prove anything in contradiction to what he has once so solemnly and deliberately avowed" (Blackstone, 2 _Com._ 295); e.g. where a bond recited that the defendants were authorized by acts of parliament to borrow money, and that under such authority they had borrowed money from a certain person, they were estopped from setting up as a defence that they did not in fact so borrow money, as stated by their deed. (3) Estoppel by conduct, or, as it is still sometimes called, estoppel by matter _in pais_, is the most important head. The rule practically comes to this that, when a person in his dealings with others has acted so as to induce them to believe a thing to be true and to act on such belief, he may not in any proceeding between himself and them deny the thing to be true: e.g. a partner retiring from a firm without giving notice to the customers, cannot, as against a customer having no knowledge of his retirement, deny that he is a partner. As between landlord and tenant the principle operates to prevent the denial by the tenant of the landlord's title. So if a person comes upon land by the licence of the person in possession, he cannot deny that the licenser had a title to the possession at the time the licence was given. Again, if a man accepts a bill of exchange he may not deny the signature or the capacity of the drawer. So a person receiving goods as baillee from another cannot deny the title of that other to the goods at the time they were entrusted to him.

Estoppel of whatever kind is subject to one general rule, that it cannot override the law of the land; for example, a corporation would not be estopped as to acts which are _ultra vires_.

See L.F. Everest and E. Strode, _The Law of Estoppel_; M. Cababe, _Principles of Estoppel_.

ESTOUTEVILLE, GUILLAUME D' (1403-1483), French ecclesiastic, was bishop of Angers, of Digne, of Porto and Santa Rufina, of Ostia and Velletri, archbishop of Rouen, prior of Saint Martin des Champs, abbot of Mont St Michel, of St Ouen at Rouen, and of Montebourg. He was sent to France as legate by Pope Nicholas V. to make peace between Charles VII. and England (1451), and undertook, _ex officio_, the revision of the trial of Joan of Arc; he afterwards reformed the statutes of the university of Paris. He then went to preside over the assembly of clergy which met at Bourges to discuss the observation of the Pragmatic Sanction (see BASEL, COUNCIL OF), finally returning to Rome, where he passed almost all the rest of his life. He was a great builder, Rouen, Mont St Michel, Pontoise and Gaillon owing many noble buildings to his initiative.

ESTOVERS (from the O. Fr. _estover_, _estovoir_, a verb used as a substantive in the sense of that which is necessary; the word is of disputed origin; it has been referred to the Lat. _stare_, to stand, or _studere_, to desire), a term, in English law, for the wood which a tenant for life or years may take from the land he holds for repair of his house, the implements of husbandry, and the hedges and fences, and for firewood. The O. Eng. word for estover was _bote_ or _boot_ (literally meaning "good," "profit," the same word as seen in "better"). The various kinds of estovers were thus known as house-bote, cart or plough-bote, hedge or hay-bote, and fire-bote respectively. These rights may, of course, be restricted by express covenants. Copyholders have similar rights over the land they occupy and over the waste of the manor, in which case the rights are known as "Commons of estovers." (See COMMONS.)

ESTRADA, LA, a town of north-western Spain, in the province of Pontevedra, 15 m. S. by E. of Santiago de Compostela. Pop. (1900) 23,916. La Estrada is the chief town of a densely-populated mountainous district; its industries are agriculture, stock-breeding, and the manufacture of linen and woollen cloth. Timber from the mountain forests is conveyed from La Estrada to the river Ulla, 4 m. N., and thence floated down to the seaports on Arosa Bay. The nearest railway-station is Requeijo, 7 m. W., on the Pontevedra-Santiago railway. There are mineral springs at La Estrada and at Caldas de Reyes, 11 m. W.S.W.

ESTRADE, a French architectural term for a raised platform (see DAIS). In the Levant the estrade of a divan is called Sopha (Blondel), from which comes our "sofa."

ESTRADES, GODEFROI, COMTE D' (1607-1686), French diplomatist and marshal, was born at Agen. He was the son of Francois d'Estrades (d. 1653), a partisan of Henry IV., and brother of Jean d'Estrades, bishop of Condom. He became a page to Louis XIII., and at the age of nineteen was sent on a mission to Maurice of Holland. In 1646 he was named ambassador extraordinary to Holland, and took part in the conferences at Munster. Sent in 1661 to England, he obtained in 1662 the restitution of Dunkirk. In 1667 he negotiated the treaty of Breda with the king of Denmark, and in 1678 the treaty of Nijmwegen, which ended the war with Holland. Independently of these diplomatic missions, he took part in the principal campaigns of Louis XIV., in Italy (1648), in Catalonia (1655), in Holland (1672); and was created marshal of France in 1675. He left _Lettres, memoires et negociations en qualite d'ambassadeur en Hollande depuis 1663 jusqu' en 1668_, of which the first edition in 1700 was followed by a nine-volume edition (London (the Hague), 1743).

Of the sons of Godefroi d'Estrades, Jean Francois d'Estrades was ambassador to Venice and Piedmont; Louis, marquis d'Estrades (d. 1711), succeeded his father as governor of Dunkirk, and was the father of Godefroi Louis, comte d'Estrades, lieutenant-general, who was killed at the siege of Belgrade, 1717.

See Felix Salomon, _Frankreichs Beziehungen zu dem Scottischen Aufstand_ (1637-1640), containing an excursus on the falsification of the letters of the comte d'Estrades; Philippe Lauzun, _Le Marechal d'Estrades_ (Agen, 1896).

ESTREAT (O. Fr. _estrait_, Lat. _extracta_), originally, a true copy or duplicate of some original writing or record; now used only with reference to the enforcement of a forfeited recognizance. At one time it was the practice to extract and certify into the exchequer copies of entries in court roils which contained provisions or orders in favour of the treasury, hence the estreating of a recognizance was the taking out from among the other records of the court in which it was filed and sending it to the exchequer to be enforced, or sending it to the sheriff to be levied by him, and then returned by the clerk of the peace to the lords of the treasury. (See RECOGNIZANCE.)

ESTREES, GABRIELLE D' (1573-1599), mistress of Henry IV. of France, was the daughter of Antoine d'Estrees, marquis of Coeuvres, and Francoise Babou de la Bourdaisiere. Henry IV., who in November 1590 stayed at the castle of Coeuvres, became violently enamoured of her. Her father, anxious to save his daughter from so perilous an entanglement, married her to Nicholas d'Amerval, seigneur de Liancourt, but the union proved unhappy, and in December 1592, Gabrielle, whose affection for the king was sincere, became his mistress. She lived with him from December 1592 onwards, and bore him several children, who were recognized and legitimized by him. She possessed the king's entire confidence; he willingly listened to her advice, and created her marchioness of Monceaux, duchess of Beaufort (1597) and Etampes (1598), a peeress of France. The king even proposed to marry her in the event of the success of his suit for the nullification by the Holy See of his marriage with Margaret of Valois; but before the question was settled Gabrielle died, on the 10th of April 1599. Poison was of course suspected; but her death was really caused by puerperal convulsions (_eclampsia_).

See Adrien Desclozeaux, _Gabrielle d'Estrees, Marquise de Monceaux, &c_. (Paris, 1889).

ESTREMADURA, or EXTREMADURA, an ancient territorial division of central and western Portugal, and of western Spain; comprising the modern districts of Leiria, Santarem and Lisbon, in Portugal, and the modern provinces of Badajoz and Caceres in Spain. Pop. (1900) 2,095,818; area, 23,055 sq. m. The name of Estremadura appears to be of early Romance or Late Latin origin, and probably was applied to all the far western lands (_extrema ora_) bordering upon the lower Tagus, as far as the Atlantic Ocean. It is thus equivalent to _Land's End_, or _Finistere_. In popular speech it is more commonly used than the names of the modern divisions mentioned above, which were created in the 19th century. As, however, there are many racial, economic and historic differences between Portuguese and Spanish Estremadura, the two provinces are separately described below.

1. Portuguese Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Beira, E. and S. by Alemtejo, and W. by the Atlantic Ocean. Pop. (1900) 1,221,418; area, 6937 sq. m. The greatest length of the province, from N. to S., is 165 m.; its greatest breadth, from E. to W., is 72 m. The general uniformity of the coast-line is broken by the broad and deep estuaries of the Tagus and the Sado, and by the four conspicuous promontories of Cape Carvoeiro, Cape da Roca, Cape Espichel and Cape de Sines. The Tagus is the great navigable waterway of Portuguese Estremadura, flowing from north-east to south-west, and fed by many minor tributaries, notably the Zezere on the right and the Zatas on the left. It divides the country into two nearly equal portions, wholly dissimilar in surface and character. South of the Tagus the land is almost everywhere low, flat and monotonous, while in several places it is rendered unhealthy by undrained marshes. The Sado, which issues into Setubal Bay, is the only important river of this region. North of the Tagus, and parallel with its right bank, extends the mountain chain which is known at its northern extremity as the Serra do Aire and, where it terminates above Cape da Roca, as the Serra da Cintra. This ridge, which is buttressed on all sides by lesser groups of hills, and includes part of the famous lines of Torres Vedras (q.v.), exceeds 2200 ft. in height, and constitutes the watershed between the right-hand tributaries of the Tagus and the Liz, Sizandro and other small rivers which flow into the Atlantic. On its seaward side, except for the line of sheer and lofty cliffs between Cape Carvoeiro and Cape da Roca, the country is mostly flat and sandy, with extensive heaths and pine forests; but along the fertile and well-cultivated right bank of the Tagus the river scenery, with its terraced hills of vines, olives and fruit trees, often resembles that of the Rhine in Germany. The natural resources of Portuguese Estremadura, with its inhabitants, industries, commerce, communications, &c., are described under PORTUGAL; for on such matters there is little to be said of this central and most characteristic province which does not apply to the whole kingdom. Separate articles are also devoted to Lisbon, the capital, and Abrantes, Cintra, Leiria, Mafra, Santarem, Setubal, Thomar, Torres Novas and Torres Vedras, the other chief towns. The women of Peniche, a small fishing village on the promontory of Cape Carvoeiro, have long been celebrated throughout Portugal for their skill in the manufacture of fine laces.

2. Spanish Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Leon and Old Castile, E. by New Castile, S. by Andalusia, and W. by the Portuguese province of Beira and Alemtejo, which separate it from Portuguese Estremadura. Pop. (1900) 882,410; area, 16,118 sq. m. Spanish Estremadura consists of a tableland separated from Leon and Old Castile by the lofty Sierra de Gredos, the plateau of Bejar and the Sierra de Gata, which form an almost continuous barrier along the northern frontier, with its summits ranging from 6000 to more than 8500 ft. in altitude. On the south the comparatively low range of the Sierra Morena constitutes the frontier of Andalusia; on the east and west there is a still more gradual transition to the plateau of New Castile and the central plains of Portugal. The tableland of Spanish Estremadura is itself bisected from east to west by a line of mountains, the Sierras of San Pedro, Montanchez and Guadalupe (4000-6000 ft.), which separate its northern half, drained by the river Tagus, from its southern half, drained by the Guadiana. These two halves are respectively known as Alta or Upper Estremadura (the modern Caceres), and Baja or Lower Estremadura (the modern Badajoz). The Tagus and Guadiana flow from east to west through a monotonous country, level or slightly undulating, often almost uninhabited, and covered with a thin growth of shrubs and grass. Perhaps the most characteristic feature of this tableland is the vast heaths of gum-cistus, which in spring colour the whole landscape with leagues of yellow blossom, and in summer change to a brown and arid wilderness.

The climate in summer is hot but not unhealthy, except in the swamps which occur along the Guadiana. The rainfall is scanty; dew, however, is abundant and the nights are cool. Although the high mountains are covered with snow in November, the winters are not usually severe. The soil is naturally fertile, but drought, floods and locusts render agriculture difficult, and sheep-farming is the most important of Estremaduran industries. (See SPAIN: _Agriculture_.) In the 19th century, however, this industry lost much of its former importance owing to foreign competition.

Immense herds of swine are bred and constitute a great source of support to the inhabitants, not only supplying them with food, but also forming a great article of export to other provinces--the pork, bacon and hams being in high esteem. The beech, oak and chestnut woods afford an abundance of food for swine, and there are numerous plantations of olive, cork and fruit trees, but a far greater area of forest has been destroyed. For an account of commerce, mining, communications, &c., in Spanish Estremadura, with a list of the chief towns, see CACERES and BADAJOZ. In character and physical type, the people of this region are less easily classified than those of other Spanish provinces. They lack the endurance and energy of the Galicians, the independent and enterprising spirit of the Asturians, Basques and Catalans, the culture of the Castilians and Andalusians. Their failure to develop a distinctive local type of character and civilization is perhaps due to the adverse economic history of their country. The two great waterways which form the natural outlet for Estremaduran commerce flow to the Atlantic through a foreign and, for centuries, a hostile territory. Like other parts of Spain, Estremadura suffered severely from the expulsion of the Jews and Moors (1492-1610), while the compensating treasure, derived during the same period from Spanish America, never reached a province so remote at once from the sea and from the chief centres of national life. Although Cortes (1485-1547), the conqueror of Mexico and Pizarro (c. 1471-1541), the conqueror of Peru, were both born in Estremadura, their exploits, far from bringing prosperity to their native province, only encouraged the emigration of its best inhabitants. Heavy taxation and harsh land-laws prevented any recovery, while the felling of the forests reduced many fertile areas to waste land, and rendered worse a climate already unfavourable to agriculture. Few countries leave upon the mind of the traveller a deeper impression of hopeless poverty.

ESTREMOZ, a town of Portugal, in the district of Evora, formerly included in the province of Alemtejo; 104 m. by rail E. of Lisbon, on the Casa Branca-Evora-Elvas railway. Pop. (1900) 7920. Estremoz is built at the base of a hill crowned by a large dismantled citadel; its fortifications, which in the 17th century accommodated 20,000 troops and rendered the town one of the principal defences of the frontier, are now obsolete. There are marble quarries in the neighbourhood, and the Estremoz _bilhas_, red earthenware jars, are used throughout Portugal as water-holders and exported to Spain. At Ameixial (1188) and Monies Claros, near Estremoz, the Spanish were severely defeated by the Portuguese in 1663 and 1665. Villa Vicosa (3841), 10 m. S.E., is a town of pre-Roman origin, containing a royal palace. The altars with Latin inscriptions to the Iberian god Endovellicus, found at Villa Vicosa, are preserved in the museum of the Royal Academy of Sciences, Lisbon.

ESTUARY (from the Lat. _aestuarium_, a place reached by _aestus_, the tide), an arm of the sea narrowing inwards at the mouth of a river where sea and fresh water meet and are mixed, i.e. the tidal portion of a river's mouth. Structurally the estuary may represent the long-continued action of river erosion and tidal erosion confined to a narrow channel, most effective where most concentrated, or an estuary may be the drowned portion of the lower part of a river-valley. In a map of Britain showing sea-depths it will be observed that under the Severn estuary the sea deepens in a number of steps descending by concentric V's that become blunter towards deep water until the last is a mere indentation pointing towards the long narrow termination of the present estuary. In this and in similar cases the progress of the estuary is indicated upon what is now the continental shelf. The chief interest in estuarine conditions is the mingling of sea and fresh water. Where, as in the Severn and the Thames, the fresh water meets the sea gradually the water is mixed, and there is very little change in salinity at high tide. The fresh water flows over the salt water and there is a continuous rapid change, in salinity towards the sea, for the currents sweeping in and out mix the water constantly. Where the river brings down a great quantity of fresh water in a narrow channel, the change of salinity at high and low water is very marked. "When, however, the inlet is very large compared with the river, and there is no bar at the opening, the estuarine character is only shown at the upper end. In the Firth of Forth, for example, the landward half is an estuary, but in the seaward half the water has become more thoroughly mixed, the salinity is almost uniform from surface to bottom, and increases very gradually towards the sea. The river-water meets the sea diffused uniformly through a deep mass of water scarcely fresher than the sea itself, so that the two mix uniformly, and the sea becomes slightly freshened throughout its whole depth for many miles from land" (H.R. Mill, _Realm of Nature_, 1897).

ESZTERGOM (Ger. _Gran_; Lat. _Strigonium_), a town of Hungary, capital of the county of the same name, 36 m. N.W. of Budapest by rail. Pop. (1900) 16,948, mostly Magyars and Roman Catholics. It is situated on the right bank of the Danube, nearly opposite the confluence of the Gran, and is divided into the town proper and three suburbs. The town is the residence of the primate of Hungary, and its cathedral, built in 1821-1870, after the model of St Peter's at Rome, is one of the finest and largest in the country. It is picturesquely built on an elevated and commanding position, 215 ft. above the Danube, and its dome, visible from a long distance, is 260 ft. high, and has a diameter of 52 ft. The interior is very richly decorated, notably with fine frescoes, and its treasury and fine library of over 60,000 volumes are famous. Besides several other churches and two monastic houses, the principal buildings include the handsome palace of the primate, erected in 1883; the archiepiscopal library, with valuable incunabula and old MSS.; the seminary for the education of Roman Catholic priests; the residences of the chapter; and the town-hall. The population is chiefly employed in cloth-weaving, wine-making and agricultural pursuits. An iron bridge, 1664 ft. long, connects Esztergom with the market town of Parkany (pop. 2836) on the opposite bank of the Danube.

Esztergom is one of the oldest towns of Hungary, and is famous as the birthplace of St Stephen, the first prince crowned "apostolic king" of Hungary. During the early times of the Hungarian monarchy it was the most important mercantile centre in the country, and it was the meeting-place of the diets of 1016, 1111, 1114 and 1256. It was almost completely destroyed by Tatar hordes in 1241, but was rebuilt and fortified by King Bela IV. In 1543 it fell into the hands of the Turks, from whom it was recovered, in 1595, by Carl von Mansfeld. In 1604 it reverted to the Turks, who held it till 1683, when it was regained by the united forces of John Sobieski, king of Poland, and Prince Charles of Lorraine. It was created an archbishopric in 1001. During the Turkish occupation of the town the archbishopric was removed to Tyrnau, while the archbishop himself had his residence in Pressburg. Both returned to Esztergom in 1820. In 1708 it was declared a free city by Joseph I. On the 13th of April 1818 it was partly destroyed by fire.

For numerous authorities on the see and cathedral of Esztergom see V. Chevalier, _Repertoire des sources_. _Topo-bibliogr._ s.v. "Gran." Of these may be mentioned especially F. Knauz, _Monumenta Ecclesiae Strigoniensis_ (3 vols., Eszterg, 1874); Joseph Danko, _Geschichtliches ... aus dem Graner Domschatz_ (Gran, 1880).

ETAGERE, a piece of light furniture very similar to the English what-not, which was extensively made in France during the latter part of the 18th century. As the name implies, it consists of a series of stages or shelves for the reception of ornaments or other small articles. Like the what-not it was very often cornerwise in shape, and the best Louis XVI. examples in exotic woods are exceedingly graceful and elegant.

ETAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United Provinces. The town is situated on the Grand Trunk road. Pop. (1901) 8796. The district has an area of 1737 sq. m. The district consists for the most part of an elevated alluvial plateau, dipping down on its eastern slope into the valley of the Ganges. The uplands are irrigated by the Ganges canal. Between the modern bed of the Ganges and its ancient channel lies a belt of fertile land, covered with a rich deposit of silt, and abundantly supplied with natural moisture. A long line of swamps and hollows still marks the former course of the river; and above it rises abruptly the original cliff which now forms the terrace of the upland plain. The Kali Nadi, a small stream flowing in a deep and narrow gorge, passes through the centre of the district, and affords an outlet for the surface drainage. Etah was at an early date the seat of a primitive Aryan civilization, and the surrounding country is mentioned by Hsuan Tsang, the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim of the 7th century A.D., as rich in temples and monasteries. But after the bloody repression of Buddhism before the 8th century, the district seems to have fallen once more into the hands of aboriginal tribes, from whom it was wrested a second time by Rajputs during the course of their great migration eastward. With the rest of upper India it passed under the sway of Mahmud of Ghazni in 1017, and thenceforth followed the fortunes of the Mahommedan empire. At the end of the 18th century it formed part of the territory over which the wazir of Oudh had made himself ruler, and it came into the possession of the British government in 1801, under the treaty of Lucknow. During the mutiny of 1857 it was the scene of serious disturbances, coupled with the usual anarchic quarrels among the native princes. In 1901 the population was 863,948, showing an increase of 23% in the decade due to the extension of canal irrigation. It is traversed by a branch of the Rajputana railway from Agra to Cawnpore, with stations at Kasganj and Soron, which are the two largest towns. It has several printing presses, indigo factories, and factories for pressing cotton, and there is a considerable agricultural export trade.

ETAMPES, ANNE DE PISSELEU D'HEILLY, DUCHESSE D' (1508-c. 1580), mistress of Francis I. of France, daughter of Guillaume de Pisseleu, sieur d'Heilly, a nobleman of Picardy. She came to court before 1522, and was one of the maids of honour of Louise of Savoy. Francis I. made her his mistress, probably on his return from his captivity at Madrid (1526), and soon gave up Madame de Chateaubriant for her. Anne was sprightly, pretty, witty and cultured, and succeeded in keeping the favour of the king till the end of the reign (1547). The liaison received some official recognition; when Queen Eleanor entered Paris (1530), the king and Anne occupied the same window. In 1533 Francis gave her in marriage to Jean de Brosse, whom he created duc d'Etampes. The influence of the duchesse d'Etampes, especially in the last years of the reign, was considerable. She upheld Admiral Chabot against the constable de Montmorency, who was supported by her rival, Diane de Poitiers, the dauphin's mistress. She was a friend to new ideas, and co-operated with the king's sister, Marguerite d'Angouleme. She used her influence to elevate and enrich her family, her uncle, Antoine Sanguin (d. 1559), being made bishop of Orleans in 1535 and a cardinal in 1539.[1] The accusations made against her of having allowed herself to be won over by the emperor Charles V. and of playing the traitor in 1544 rest on no serious proof. After the death of Francis I. (1547) she was dismissed from the court by Diane de Poitiers, humiliated in every way, and died in obscurity much later, probably in the reign of Henry III.

See Paulin Paris, _Etudes sur Francois I^er_ (Paris, 1885).

FOOTNOTE:

[1] The chateau of Meudon, belonging to the Sanguin family, was handed over to the duchesse d'Etampes in 1539. Sanguin was translated to Limoges in 1546, and became archbishop of Toulouse in 1550.

ETAMPES, a town of northern France, capital of an arrondissement in the department of Seine-et-Oise, on the Orleans railway, 35 m. S. by W. of Paris. Pop. (1906) 8720. Etampes is a long straggling town hemmed in between the railway on the north and the Chalouette on the south; the latter is a tributary of the Juine which waters the eastern outskirts of the town. A fine view of Etampes is obtained from the Tour Guinette, a ruined keep built by Louis VI. in the 12th century on an eminence on the other side of the railway. Notre-Dame du Fort, the chief church, dates from the 11th and 12th centuries; irregular in plan, it is remarkable for a fine Romanesque tower and spire, and for the crenellated wall which partly surrounds it. The interior contains ancient paintings and other artistic works. St Basile (12th and 16th centuries), which preserves a Romanesque doorway, and St Martin (12th and 13th centuries), with a leaning tower of the 16th century, are of less importance. The civil buildings offer little interest, but two houses named after Anne de Pisseleu (see above), mistress of Francis I., and Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II., are graceful examples of Renaissance architecture. In the square there is a statue of the naturalist, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, who was born in Etampes. The subprefecture, a tribunal of first instance, and a communal college are among the public institutions of Etampes. Flour-milling, metal-founding, leather-dressing, printing and the manufacture of boots and shoes and hosiery are carried on; there are quarries of paving-stone, nurseries and market gardens in the vicinity, and the town has important markets for cereals and sheep.

Etampes (Lat. _Stampae_) existed at the beginning of the 7th century and in the early middle ages belonged to the crown domain. During the middle ages it was the scene of several councils, the most notable of which took place in 1130 and resulted in the recognition of Innocent II. as the legitimate pope. In 1652, during the war of the Fronde it suffered severely at the hands of the royal troops under Turenne.

_Lords, Counts and Dukes of Etampes._--The lordship of Etampes, in what is now the department of Seine et Oise in France, belonged to the royal domain, but was detached from it on several occasions in favour of princes, or kings' favourites. St Louis gave it to his mother Blanche of Castile, and then to his wife Marguerite of Provence. Louis, the brother of Philip the Fair, became lord of Etampes in 1317 and count in 1327; he was succeeded by his son and his grandson. Francis I. raised the countship of Etampes to the rank of a duchy for his mistress Anne de Pisseleu D'Heilly. The new duchy passed to Diane de Poitiers (1553), to Catherine of Lorraine, duchess of Montpensier (1578), to Marguerite of Valois (1582) and to Gabrielle d'Estrees (1598). The latter transmitted it to her son, Cesar of Vendome, and his descendants held it till 1712. It then passed by inheritance to the families of Bourbon-Conti and of Orleans.

ETAPLES, a town of northern France, in the department of Pas-de-Calais, on the right bank of the estuary of the Canche, 3 m. from the Straits of Dover, 17 m. S. of Boulogne by rail. Pop. (1906) 5136. Etaples has a small fishing and commercial port which enjoyed a certain importance during the middle ages. Boat-building is carried on. There is an old church with a statue of the Virgin much revered by the sailors. The Canche is crossed by a bridge over 1600 ft. in length. Le Touquet, in the midst of pine woods, and the neighbouring watering-place of Paris-Plage, 3-1/2 m. W. of Etaples at the mouth of the estuary, are much frequented by English and French visitors for golf, tennis and bathing, and Etaples itself is a centre for artists. Antiquarian discoveries in the vicinity of Etaples have led to the conjecture that it occupies the site of the Gallo-Roman port of _Quentovicus_. In 1492 a treaty was signed here between Henry VII., king of England, and Charles VIII., king of France.

ETAWAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United Provinces. The town is situated on the left bank of the Jumna, and has a station on the East Indian railway, 206 m. from Allahabad. Pop. (1901) 42,570. Deep fissures intersect the various quarters of the town, over which broad roads connect the higher portions by bridges and embankments. The Jama Masjid (Great Mosque) is the chief architectural ornament of Etawah. It was originally a Hindu temple, and was adapted to its present use by the Mahommedan conquerors. Several fine Hindu temples also stand about the mound on which are the ruins of the ancient fort. Etawah is now only the civil headquarters of the district, the military cantonment having been abandoned in 1861. Considerable trade is carried on by rail and river. The manufactures include cotton cloth, skin-bottles, combs and horn-ware and sweetmeats.

The DISTRICT OF ETAWAH has an area of 1691 sq. m. It forms a purely artificial administrative division, stretching across the level plain of the Doab, and beyond the valley of the Jumna, to the gorges of the Chambal, and the last rocky outliers of the Vindhyan range. The district exhibits a striking variety of surface and scenery. The greater portion lies within the Doab or level alluvial plain between the Ganges and the Jumna. This part falls naturally into two sections, divided by the deep and fissured valley of the river Sengar. The tract to the north-east of that stream is rich and fertile, being watered by the Cawnpore and Etawah branches of the Ganges canal, and other important works. The south-western region has the same natural advantages, but possesses no great irrigation system, and is consequently less fruitful than the opposite slopes. Near the banks of the Jumna, the plain descends into the river valley by a series of wild ravines and terraces, inhabited only by a scattered race of hereditary herdsmen. Beyond the Jumna again a strip of British territory extends along the tangled gorges of the Chambal and the Kuari Nadi, far into the borders of the Gwalior state. This outlying tract embraces a series of rocky glens and mountain torrents, crowned by the ruins of native strongholds, and interspersed with narrow ledges of cultivable alluvium. The climate, once hot and sultry, has now become comparatively moist and equable under the influence of irrigation and the planting of trees.

Etawah was marked out by its physical features as a secure retreat for the turbulent tribes of the Upper Doab, and it was not till the 12th century that any of the existing castes settled on the soil. After the Mussulman conquests of Delhi and the surrounding country, the Hindus of Etawah appear to have held their own for many generations against the Mahommedan power; but in the 16th century Baber conquered the district, with the rest of the Doab, and it remained in the hands of the Moguls until the decay of their empire. After passing through the usual vicissitudes of Mahratta and Jat conquests during the long anarchy which preceded the British rule, Etawah was annexed by the wazir of Oudh in 1773. The wazir ceded it to the East India Company in 1801, but it still remained so largely in the hands of lawless native chiefs that some difficulty was experienced in reducing it to orderly government. During the mutiny of 1857 serious disturbances occurred in Etawah, and the district was occupied by the rebels from June to December; order was not completely restored till the end of 1858. In 1901 the population was 806,798, showing an increase of 11% in the decade. The district is partly watered by branches of the Ganges canal, and is traversed throughout by the main line of the East Indian railway from Cawnpore to Agra. Cotton, oilseeds and other agricultural produce are exported, and some indigo is made, but manufacturing industry is slight.

ETCHING (Dutch, _etsen_, to eat), a form of engraving (q.v.) in which, in contradistinction to line engraving (q.v.), where the furrow is produced by the ploughing of the burin, the copper is eaten away or corroded by acid.

To prepare a plate for etching it is first covered with etching-ground, a composition which resists acid. The qualities of a ground are to be so adhesive that it will not quit the copper when a small quantity is left isolated between lines, yet not so adhesive that the etching point cannot easily and entirely remove it; at the same time a good ground will be hard enough to bear the hand upon it, or a sheet of paper, yet not so hard as to be brittle. The ground used by Abraham Bosse, the French painter and engraver (1602-1676) was composed as follows:--Melt 2 oz. of white wax; then add to it 1 oz. of gum-mastic in powder, a little at a time, stirring till the wax and the mastic are well mingled; then add, in the same manner, 1 oz. of bitumen in powder. There are three different ways of applying an etching-ground to a plate. The old-fashioned way was to wrap a ball of the ground in silk, heat the plate, and then rub the ball upon the surface, enough of the ground to cover the plate melting through the silk. To equalize the ground a dabber was used, which was made of cotton-wool under horsehair, the whole inclosed in silk. This method is still used by many artists, from tradition and habit, but it is far inferior in perfection and convenience to that which we will now describe. When the etching-ground is melted, add to it half its volume of essential oil of lavender, mix well, and allow the mixture to cool. You have now a paste which can be spread upon a cold plate with a roller; these rollers are covered with leather and made (very carefully) for the purpose. You first spread a little paste on a sheet of glass (if too thick, add more oil of lavender and mix with a palette knife), and roll it till the roller is quite equally charged all over, when the paste is easily transferred to the copper, which is afterwards gently heated to expel the oil of lavender. In both these methods of grounding a plate, the work is not completed until the ground has been smoked, which is effected as follows. The plate is held by a hand-vice if a small one, or if large, is fixed at some height, with the covered side downwards. A smoking torch, composed of many thin bees-wax dips twisted together, is then lighted and passed repeatedly under the plate in every direction, till the ground has incorporated enough lampblack to blacken it. The third way of covering a plate for etching is to apply the ground in solution as collodion is applied by photographers. The ground may be dissolved in chloroform, or in oil of lavender. The plate being grounded, its back and edges are protected from the acid by Japan varnish, which soon dries, and then the drawing is traced upon it. The best way of tracing a drawing is to use sheet gelatine, which is employed as follows. The gelatine is laid upon the drawing, which its transparence allows you to see perfectly, and you trace the lines by scratching the smooth surface with a sharp point. You then fill these scratches with fine black-lead, in powder, rubbing it in with the finger, turn the tracing with its face to the plate, and rub the back of it with a burnisher. The black-lead from the scratches adheres to the etching ground and shows upon it as pale grey, much more visible than anything else you can use for tracing. Then comes the work of the etching-needle, which is merely a piece of steel sharpened more or less. J.M.W. Turner used a prong of an old steel fork which did as well as anything, but neater etching-needles are sold by artists' colour-makers. The needle removes the ground or cover and lays the copper bare. Some artists sharpen their needles so as to present a cutting edge which, when used sideways, scrapes away a broad line; and many etchers use needles of various degrees of sharpness to get thicker or thinner lines. It may be well to observe, in connexion with this part of the subject, that whilst thick lines agree perfectly well with the nature of woodcut, they are very apt to give an unpleasant heaviness to plate engraving of all kinds, whilst thin lines have generally a clear and agreeable appearance in plate engraving. Nevertheless, lines of moderate thickness are used effectively in etching when covered with finer shading, and very thick lines indeed were employed with good results by Turner when he intended to cover them with mezzotint (q.v.), and to print in brown ink, because their thickness was essential to prevent them from being overwhelmed by the mezzotint, and the brown ink made them print less heavily than black. Etchers differ in opinion as to whether the needle ought to scratch the copper or simply to glide upon its surface. A gliding needle is much more free, and therefore communicates a greater appearance of freedom to the etching, but it has the inconvenience that the etching-ground may not always be entirely removed, and then the lines may be defective from insufficient biting. A scratching needle, on the other hand, is free from this serious inconvenience, but it must not scratch irregularly so as to _engrave_ lines of various depth. The _biting_ in former times was generally done with a mixture of nitric acid and water, in equal proportions; but in the present day a Dutch mordant is a good deal used, which is composed as follows: Hydrochloric acid, 100 grammes; chlorate of potash, 20 grammes; water, 880 grammes. To make it, heat the water, add the chlorate of potash, wait till it is entirely dissolved, and then add the acid. The nitrous mordant acts rapidly and causes ebullition; the Dutch mordant acts slowly and causes no ebullition. The nitrous mordant widens the lines; the Dutch mordant bites in depth, and does not widen the lines to any perceptible degree. The time required for both depends upon temperature. A mordant bites slowly when cold, and more and more rapidly when heated. To obviate irregularity caused by difference of temperature, it is a good plan to heat the Dutch mordant artificially to 95 deg. Fahr. by lamps under the bath (for which a photographer's porcelain tray is most convenient), and keep it steadily to that temperature; the results may then be counted upon; but whatever the temperature fixed upon, the results will be regular if it is regular. To get different degrees of biting on the same plate the lines which are to be pale are "stopped out" by being painted over with Japan varnish or with etching ground dissolved in oil of lavender, the darkest lines being reserved to the last, as they have to bite longest. When the acid has done its work properly the lines are bitten in such various degrees of depth that they will print with the degree of blackness required; but if some parts of the subject require to be made paler, they can be lowered by rubbing them with charcoal and olive oil, and if they have to be made deeper they can be rebitten, or covered with added shading. Rebiting is done with the roller above mentioned, which is now charged very lightly with paste and rolled over the copper with no pressure but its own weight, so as to cover the smooth surface but not fill up any of the lines. The oil of lavender is then expelled as before by gently heating the plate, but it is not smoked. The lines which require rebiting may now be rebitten, and the others preserved against the action of the acid by stopping out. These are a few of the most essential technical points in etching, but there are many matters of detail for which the reader is referred to the special works on the subject.

There are many varieties in the processes of etching, and it is only necessary here to indicate the essential facts. A brief analysis of different styles may be given.

(1) _Pure Line._ As there is line engraving, so there is line etching; but as the etching-needle is a freer instrument than the burin, the line has qualities which differ widely from those of the burin line. Each of the two has its own charm and beauty; the liberty of the one is charming, and the restraint of the other is admirable also in its right place. In line etching, as in line engraving, the great masters purposely exhibit the line and do not hide it under too much shading. (2) _Line and Shade._ This answers exactly in etching to Mantegna's work in engraving. The most important lines are drawn first throughout, and the shade thrown over them like a wash with the brush over a pen sketch in indelible ink. (3) _Shade and Texture._ This is used chiefly to imitate oil-painting. Here the line (properly so called) is entirely abandoned, and the attention of the etcher is given to texture and chiaroscuro. He uses lines, of course, to express these, but does not exhibit them for their own beauty; on the contrary, he conceals them.

Of these three styles of etching the first is technically the easiest, and being also the most rapid, is adopted for sketching on the copper from nature; the second is the next in difficulty; and the third the most difficult, on account of the biting, which is never easy to manage when it becomes elaborate. The etcher has, however, many resources; he can make passages paler by burnishing them, or by using charcoal, or he can efface them entirely with the scraper and charcoal; he can darken them by rebiting or by regrounding the plate and adding fresh work; and he need not run the risk of biting the very palest passages of all, because these can be easily done with the _dry point_, which is simply a well-sharpened stylus used directly on the copper without the help of acid. It is often asserted that any one can etch who can draw, but this is a mistaken assertion likely to mislead. Without requiring so long an apprenticeship as the burin, etching is a very difficult art indeed, the two main causes of its difficulty being that the artist does not see his work properly as he proceeds, and that mistakes or misfortunes in the biting, which are of frequent occurrence to the inexperienced, may destroy all the relations of tone.

Etching, like line engraving, owed much to the old masters, but whereas, with the exception of Albert Durer, the painters were seldom practical line engravers, they advanced etching not only by advice given to others but by the work of their own hands. Rembrandt did as much for etching as either Raphael or Rubens for line engraving; and in landscape the etchings of Claude had an influence which still continues, both Rembrandt and Claude being practical workmen in etching, and very skilful workmen. Ostade, Ruysdael, Berghem, Paul Potter, Karl Dujardin, etched as they painted, and so did a greater than any of them, Vandyck. In the earlier part of the 19th century etching was almost a defunct art, except as it was employed by engravers as a help to get faster through their work, of which "engraving" got all the credit, the public being unable to distinguish between etched lines and lines cut with the burin. But from the middle of the century dates a great revival of etching as an independent art, a revival which has extended all over Europe.

Apart from the copying of pictures by etching--which was found commercially preferable to the use of line engraving--a number of artists and amateurs gradually practised original etching with increasing success, notably Sir Seymour Haden, J.M. Whistler, Samuel Palmer and others in England, Felix Bracquemond, C.F. Daubigny, Charles Jacque, Adolphe Appian, Maxime Lalanne, Jules Jacquemart and others on the continent, besides that singular and remarkable genius, Charles Meryon. Etching clubs, or associations of artists for the publication of original etchings, were gradually founded in England, France, Germany and Belgium. Meryon and Whistler are two of the greatest modern etchers. Among earlier names mention may be made of Andrew Geddes (1783-1844) and of Sir David Wilkie (1785-1841). Geddes was the finer artist with the needle; he it was whom Rembrandt best inspired; his work was in the grand manner. Of the rich and rare dry-points "At Peckham Rye" and "At Halliford-on-Thames," the deepest and most brilliant master of landscape would have no need to be ashamed. David Wilkie's prints were, naturally, not less dramatic than his pictures, but the etcher's particular gift was possessed by him more intermittently: it is shown best in "The Receipt," a strong and vivid, dexterous sketch, quite full of character. J.S. Cotman's (1782-1842) etchings are also historically interesting though they were "soft ground" for the most part. They show all his qualities of elegance and freedom as a draughtsman, and much of his large dignity in the distribution of light and shade. T. Girtin (1775-1802), in the preparations for his views of Paris, was notably happy. The work of Sir Francis Seymour Haden (b. 1818) had a powerful influence on the art in England. Between 1858 and 1879 Seymour Haden--the first president of the Royal Society of Painter Etchers--produced the vast majority of his plates, which have always good draughtsmanship, unity of effect and a personal impression. They show a strong feeling for nature. If, amongst some two hundred subjects, it were necessary to select one or two for peculiar praise, they might be the "Breaking up of the _Agamemnon_," the almost perfect "Water Meadow," the masterly presentment of "Erith Marshes," and the later dry-point of "Windmill Hill." Another great etcher--Frenchman by birth, but English by long residence--is Alphonse Legros (q.v.). Great in expression and suggestive draughtsmanship, austere and economical in line, Legros's work is the grave record of the observation and the fancy of an imaginative mind. In poetic portraiture nothing can well exceed his etched vision of G.F. Watts; "La Mort du Vagabond" is noticeable for terror and homely pathos; "Communion dans l'Eglise St Medard" is perhaps the best instance of the dignity, vigour and grave sympathy with which he addresses himself to ecclesiastical themes. Something of these latter qualities, in dealing with similar themes, Legros passed on to his pupil, Sir Charles Holroyd (b. 1861)--an etcher in the true vein; whilst an earlier pupil, prolific as himself, as imaginative, and sometimes more deliberately uncouth--William Strang, A.R.A. (b. 1859)--carried on in his own way the tradition of that part of Legros's practice, the preoccupation with the humble, for which Legros himself found certain warrant in a portion of the great _oeuvre_ of Rembrandt. Frank Short, A.R.A. (b. 1857), as with the very touch of Turner, carried to completion great designs that Turner left unfinished for the _Liber studiorum_. The delicacy of "Sleeping till the Flood," the curiously suggestive realism of "Wrought Nails"--a scene in the Black Country--entitle him to a lasting place in the list of the fine wielders of the etching-needle. D.Y. Cameron (b. 1865) betrays the influence of Rembrandt in a noble etching, "Border Towers," and the influence of Meryon in such a print as that of "The Palace, Stirling." His "London Set" is particularly fine. The individuality of C.J. Watson is less marked, but his skill, chiefly in architectural work, is noticeable. Admirers of the studiously accurate portraiture of a great monument may be able to set Watson's print of "St Etienne du Mont" by the side of Meryon's august and mysterious and ever-memorable vision. Paul Helleu (b. 1859) in his brilliant sketches, particularly of women, has used the art of etching in a peculiarly individual and delightful way. Among the numerous other modern etchers only a bare mention can be made of Oliver Hall, Minna Bolingbroke and Elizabeth Armstrong (Mrs Watson and Mrs Stanhope Forbes), Alfred East, Robert Macbeth, Walter Sickert, Robert Goff, Mortimer Menpes, Percy Thomas, Raven Hill, and Prof. H. von Herkomer, in England; in France, Roussel, J.F. Raffaelli (b. 1850), Besnard and J.J.J. Tissot (1836-1902).

The oldest treatise on etching is that of Abraham Bosse (1645). See also P.G. Hamerton, _Etching and Etchers_ (1868), and _Etchers' Handbook_ (1881); F. Wedmore, _Etching in England_ (1895); Singer and Strang, _Etching, Engraving, &c._ (1897).

ETEOCLES, in Greek legend, king of Thebes, son of Oedipus and Jocasta (Iocaste). After their father had been driven out of the country, he and his brother Polyneices agreed to reign alternately for a year. Eteocles, however, refused to keep the agreement, and Polyneices fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, whom he persuaded to undertake the famous expedition against Thebes on his behalf. The two brothers met in single combat, and both were slain. The Theban rulers decreed that only Eteocles should receive the honour of burial, but the decree was set at naught by Antigone (q.v.), the sister of Polyneices. The fate of Eteocles and Polyneices forms the subject of the _Seven against Thebes_ of Aeschylus and the _Phoenissae_ of Euripides.

ETESIAN WIND (Lat. _etesius_, annual; Gr. [Greek: etos], year), a Mediterranean wind blowing from the north and west in summer for about six weeks annually.

ETEX, ANTOINE (1808-1888), French sculptor, painter and architect, was born in Paris on the 20th of March 1808. He first exhibited in the salon of 1833, his work including a reproduction in marble of his "Death of Hyacinthus," and the plaster cast of his "Cain and his race cursed by God." Thiers, who was at this time minister of public works, now commissioned him to execute the two groups of "Peace" and "War," placed at each side of the Arc de Triomphe. This last, which established his reputation, he reproduced in marble in the salon of 1839. The French capital contains numerous examples of the sculptural works of Etex, which included mythological and religious subjects besides a great number of portraits. His paintings include the subjects of Eurydice and the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, and among the best known of his architectural productions are the tomb of Napoleon I. in the Invalides and a monument of the revolution of 1848. Etex wrote a number of essays on subjects connected with the arts. The last year of his life was spent at Nice, and he died at Chaville (Seine-et-Oise) on the 14th of July 1888.

See P.E. Mangeant, _Antoine Etex, peintre, sculpteur et architecte, 1808-1888_ (Paris, 1894).

ETHER, (C2H5)2O, the _Aether_ of pharmacy, a colourless, volatile, highly inflammable liquid, of specific gravity 0.736 at 0 deg., boiling-point 35 deg. C., and freezing-point -117 deg. .4 C. (K. Olszewski). It has a strong and characteristic odour, and a hot sweetish taste, is soluble in ten parts of water, and in all proportions in alcohol, and dissolves bromine, iodine, and, in small quantities, sulphur and phosphorus, also the volatile oils, most fatty and resinous substances, guncotton, caoutchouc and certain of the vegetable alkaloids. The vapour mixed with oxygen or air is violently explosive. The making of ether by the action of sulphuric acid on alcohol was known in about the 13th century; and later Basil Valentine and Valerius Cordus described its preparation and properties. The name ether appears to have been applied to the drug only since the times of Frobenius, who in 1730 termed it _spiritus aethereus or vini vitriolatus_. It was considered to be a sulphur compound, hence its name sulphur ether; this idea was proved to be erroneous by Valentine Rose in about 1800. Ether is manufactured by the distillation of 5 parts of 90% alcohol with 9 parts of concentrated sulphuric acid at a temperature of 140 deg.-145 deg. C., a constant stream of alcohol being caused to flow into the mixture during the operation. The distillate is purified by treatment with lime and calcium chloride, and subsequent distillation. The mechanism of this reaction was explained by A. Williamson in 1850. For other methods of preparation see ETHERS.[1]

The presence of so small a quantity as 1% of alcohol may be detected in ether by the colour imparted to it by aniline violet; if water or acetic acid be present, the ether must be shaken with anhydrous potassium carbonate before the application of the test. When heated with zinc dust, it yields ethylene and water. Chromic acid oxidizes it to acetic acid and ozone oxidizes it to ethyl peroxide. In contact with hydriodic acid gas at 0 deg. C., it forms ethyl iodide (R.D. Silva, _Ber._, 1875, 8, p. 903), and with water and a little sulphuric acid at 180 deg. C., it yields alcohol (E. Erlenmeyer, _Zeit. f. chemie_, 1868, p. 343). It forms crystalline compounds with bromine and with many metallic salts.

_Medicine._--For the anaesthetic properties of ether see ANAESTHESIA. Applied externally, ether evaporates very rapidly, producing such intense cold as to cause marked local anaesthesia. For this purpose it is best applied as a fine spray, but ethyl chloride is generally found more efficient and produces less subsequent discomfort. It aids the absorption of fats and may be used with cod liver oil when the latter is administered by the skin. If it be rubbed in or evaporation be prevented, it acts, like alcohol and chloroform, as an irritant. Ten to twenty minims of ether, subcutaneously injected, constitute perhaps the most rapid and powerful cardiac stimulant known, and are often employed for this purpose in cases of syncope under anaesthesia. Taken internally, ether acts in many respects similarly to alcohol and chloroform, but its stimulant action on the heart is much more marked, being exerted both reflexly from the stomach and directly after its rapid absorption. Ether is thus the type of a rapidly diffusible stimulant. It is also useful in relieving the paroxysms of asthma. The dose for repeated administration is from 10 to 30 minims and for a single administration up to a drachm.

_Chronic Poisoning._--A dose of a little more than a drachm (a teaspoonful) will produce a condition of inebriation lasting for one-half to one hour, but the dose must soon be greatly increased. The after-effects are, if anything, rather pleasant, and the habit of ether drinking is certainly not so injurious as alcoholism. The principal symptoms symptons of chronic ether-drinking are a weakening of the activity of the special senses, and notably sight and hearing, a lowering of the intelligence and a degree of general paresis (partial paralysis) of motion.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] See also J. v. Liebig, _Ann. Chem. Pharm._, 1837, 23, p. 39; 1839, 30, p. 129; E. Mitscherlich, _Pogg. Ann._, 1836, 31, p. 273; 1841, 53, p. 95; A.W. Williamson, _Phil. Mag._, 1850 (3), 37, p. 350.

ETHEREDGE [or ETHEREGE], SIR GEORGE (c. 1635-1691), English dramatist, was born about the year 1635, and belonged to an Oxfordshire family. He is said to have been educated at Cambridge, but Dennis assures us that "to his certain knowledge he understood neither Greek nor Latin." He travelled abroad early, and seems to have resided in France. It is possible that he witnessed in Paris the performances of some of Moliere's earliest comedies; and he seems, from an allusion in one of his plays, to have been personally acquainted with Bussy Rabutin. On his return to London he studied the law at one of the Inns of Court. His tastes were those of a fine gentleman, and he indulged freely in pleasure.

Sometime soon after the Restoration he composed his comedy of _The Comical Revenge_ or _Love in a Tub_, which introduced him to Lord Buckhurst, afterwards the earl of Dorset. This was brought out at the Duke's theatre in 1664, and a few copies were printed in the same year. It is partly in rhymed rhymned heroic verse, like the stilted tragedies of the Howards and Killigrews, but it contains comic scenes that are exceedingly bright and fresh. The sparring between Sir Frederick and the Widow introduced a style of wit hitherto unknown upon the English stage. The success of this play was very great, but Etheredge waited four years before he repeated his experiment. Meanwhile he gained the highest reputation as a poetical beau, and moved in the circle of Sir Charles Sedley, Lord Rochester and the other noble wits of the day. In 1668 he brought out _She would if she could_, a comedy in many respects admirable, full of action, wit and spirit, although to the last degree frivolous and immoral. But in this play Etheredge first shows himself a new power in literature; he has nothing of the rudeness of his predecessors or the grossness of his contemporaries. We move in an airy and fantastic world, where flirtation is the only serious business of life. At this time Etheredge was living a life no less frivolous and unprincipled than those of his Courtals and Freemans. He formed an alliance with the famous actress Mrs Elizabeth Barry; she bore him a daughter, on whom he settled L6000, but who, unhappily, died in her youth. His wealth and wit, the distinction and charm of his manners, won Etheredge the general worship of society, and his temperament is best known by the names his contemporaries gave him, of "gentle George" and "easy Etheredge." Rochester upbraided him for inattention to literature; and at last, after a silence of eight years, he came forward with one more play, unfortunately his last. _The Man of Mode or Sir Fopling Flutter_, indisputably the best comedy of intrigue written in England before the days of Congreve, was acted and printed in 1676, and enjoyed an unbounded success. Besides the merit of its plot and wit, it had the personal charm of being supposed to satirize, or at least to paint, persons well known in London. Sir Fopling Flutter was a portrait of Beau Hewit, the reigning exquisite of the hour; in Dorimant the poet drew the earl of Rochester, and in Medley a portrait of himself; while even the drunken shoemaker was a real character, who made his fortune from being thus brought into public notice. After this brilliant success Etheredge retired from literature; his gallantries and his gambling in a few years deprived him of his fortune, and he looked about for a rich match. He was knighted before 1680, and gained the hand and the money of a rich widow. He was sent by Charles II. on a mission to the Hague, and in March 1685 was appointed resident minister in the imperial German court at Regensburg. He was very uncomfortable in Germany, and after three and a half years' residence left for Paris. He had collected a library at Regensburg, some volumes of which are in the theological college there. His MS. despatches are preserved in the British Museum, where they were discovered and described by Mr Gosse in 1881; they add very largely to our knowledge of Etheredge's career. He died in Paris, probably in 1691, for Narcissus Luttrell notes in February 1692 that "Sir George Etherege, the late King James' ambassador to Vienna, died lately in Paris."

Etheredge deserves to hold a more distinguished place in English literature than has generally been allotted to him. In a dull and heavy age, he inaugurated a period of genuine wit and sprightliness. He invented the comedy of intrigue, and led the way for the masterpieces of Congreve and Sheridan. Before his time the manner of Ben Jonson had prevailed in comedy, and traditional "humours" and typical eccentricities, instead of real characters, had crowded the comic stage. Etheredge paints with a light, faint hand, but it is from nature, and his portraits of fops and beaux are simply unexcelled. No one knows better than he how to present a gay young gentleman, a Dorimant, "an unconfinable rover after amorous adventures." His genius is as light as thistle-down; he is frivolous, without force of conviction, without principle; but his wit is very sparkling, and his style pure and singularly picturesque. No one approaches Etheredge in delicate touches of dress, furniture and scene; he makes the fine airs of London gentlemen and ladies live before our eyes even more vividly than Congreve does; but he has less insight and less energy than Congreve. Had he been poor or ambitious, he might have been to England almost what Moliere was to France, but he was a rich man living at his ease, and he disdained to excel in literature. Etheredge was "a fair, slender, genteel man, but spoiled his countenance with drinking." His contemporaries all agree in acknowledging that he was the soul of affability and sprightly good-nature.

The life of Etheredge was first given in detail by Edmund Gosse in _Seventeenth Century Studies_ (1883). His works were edited by A.W. Verity, in 1888. (E. G.)

ETHERIDGE, JOHN WESLEY (1804-1866), English nonconformist divine, was born near Newport, Isle of Wight, on the 24th of February 1804. He received most of his early education from his father. Though he never attended any university he acquired ultimately a thorough knowledge of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Syriac, French and German. In 1824 he was placed on the Wesleyan Methodist plan as a local preacher. In 1826 his offer to enter the ministry was accepted, and after the usual probationary trial he was received into full connexion at the conference of 1831. For two years after this he remained at Brighton, and in 1833 he removed to Cornwall, being stationed successively at the Truro and Falmouth circuits. From Falmouth he removed to Darlaston, where in 1838 his health gave way. For a good many years he was a supernumerary, and lived for a while at Caen and Paris, where in the public libraries he found great facilities for prosecuting his favourite Oriental studies. His health having considerably improved, he became, in 1843, pastor of the Methodist church at Boulogne. He returned to England in 1847, and was appointed successively to the circuits of Islington, Bristol, Leeds, Penzance, Penryn, Truro and St Austell in east Cornwall. Shortly after his return to England he received the degree of Ph.D. from the university of Heidelberg. He was a patient, modest, hard-working and accurate scholar. He died at Camborne on the 24th of May 1866.

His principal works are _Horae Aramaicae_ (1843); _History, Liturgies and Literature of the Syrian Churches_ (1847); _The Apostolic Acts and Epistles, from the Peshito or Ancient Syriac_ (1849); _Jerusalem and Tiberias, a Survey of the Religious and Scholastic Learning of the Jews_ (1856); _The Targums of Onkelos and Jonathan ben Uzziel_ (1st vol. in 1862, 2nd in 1865). See _Memoir_, by Rev. Thornley Smith (1871).

ETHERIDGE, ROBERT (1819-1903), English geologist and palaeontologist, was born at Ross, in Herefordshire, on the 3rd of December 1819. After an ordinary school education in his native town, he obtained employment in a business house in Bristol. There he devoted his spare time to natural history pursuits, and in 1850 was appointed curator of the museum attached to the Bristol Philosophical Institution. He also became lecturer on botany in the Bristol medical school. In 1857, through the influence of Sir Roderick I. Murchison, he was appointed to a post in the Museum of Practical Geology in London, and eventually became palaeontologist to the Geological Survey. In 1865 he assisted Prof. Huxley in the preparation of a _Catalogue of Fossils in the Museum of Practical Geology_. His chief work for many years was in naming the fossils collected during the progress of the Geological Survey, and in supplying the lists that were appended to numerous official memoirs. In this way he acquired an exceptional knowledge of British fossils, and he ultimately prepared an elaborate work entitled _Fossils of the British Islands, Stratigraphically and Zoologically arranged_. Only the first volume dealing with the Palaeozoic species was published (1888). Etheridge also was author of several papers on the Rhaetic Beds, and of an important essay on the Physical Structure of North Devon, and on the Palaeontological Value of the Devonian Fossils (1867). He edited, and in the main rewrote, the second part of a new edition of John Phillips' Manual of Geology--entitled _Stratigraphical Geology and Palaeontology_ (1885). He was elected F.R.S. in 1871, and was president of the Geological Society in 1881-1882. In 1881 Etheridge was transferred from the Geological Survey to the geological department of the British Museum, where he served as assistant keeper until 1891. He died at Chelsea, London, on the 18th of December 1903.

Memoir by Dr Henry Woodward (with list of works and portrait) in _Geological Magazine_, January 1904; also Memoir by H.B. Woodward (with portrait) in _Proc. Bristol Nat. Soc._ x. 175.

ETHERS, in organic chemistry, compounds of the general formula R.O.R', where R, R' = alkyl or aryl groups. They may be regarded as the anhydrides of the alcohols, being formed by elimination of one molecule of water from two molecules of the alcohols; those in which the two hydrocarbon radicals are similar are known as _simple_ ethers, and those in which they are dissimilar as _mixed_ ethers. They may be prepared by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on the alcohols, alkyl sulphuric acids being first formed, which yield ethers on heating with alcohols. The process may be made a continuous one by running a thin stream of alcohol continually into the heated reaction mixture of alcohol and sulphuric acid. Benzene sulphonic acid has been used in place of sulphuric acid (F. Krafft, _Ber._, 1893, 26, p. 2829). A.W. Williamson (_Ann._, 1851, 77, p. 38; 1852, 81, p. 77) prepared ether by the action of sodium ethylate on ethyl iodide, and showed that all ethers must possess the structural formula given above (see also _Brit. Assoc. Reports_, 1850, p. 65). They may also be prepared by heating the alkyl halides with silver oxide.

The ethers are neutral volatile liquids (the first member, methyl ether, is a gas at ordinary temperature). Phosphorus pentachloride converts them into alkyl chlorides, a similar decomposition taking place when they are heated with the haloid acids. Nitric acid and chromic acid oxidize them in such a mariner that they yield the same products as the alcohols from which they are derived. With chlorine they yield substitution products.

_Methyl ether_, (CH3)2O, was first prepared by J. B. Dumas and E. Peligot (_Ann. chim. phys._, 1835, [2] 58, p. 19) by heating methyl alcohol with sulphuric acid. It is best prepared by heating methyl alcohol and sulphuric acid to 140 deg. C. and leading the evolved gas into sulphuric acid. The sulphuric acid solution is then allowed to drop slowly into an equal volume of water, when the methyl ether is liberated (E. Erlenmeyer and A. Kriechbaumer, _Ber._, 1874, 7, p. 699). It is a pleasant-smelling gas, which burns when ignited, and may be condensed to a liquid which boils at 23.6 deg. C. It is somewhat soluble in water and readily soluble in alcohol, and concentrated sulphuric acid. It combines with hydrochloric acid gas to form a compound (CH3)2O.HCl (C. Friedel, _Comptes rendus_, 1875, 81, p. 152). _Methyl ethyl ether_, CH3.O.C2H5, is prepared from methyl iodide and sodium ethylate, or from ethyl iodide and sodium methylate (A. W. Williamson, _Ann._, 1852, 81, p. 77). It is a liquid which boils at 10.8 deg. C.

For diethyl ether see ETHER, and for methyl phenyl ether (anisole) and ethyl phenyl ether (phenetole) see CARBOLIC ACID.

ETHICS, the name generally given to the science of moral philosophy. The word "ethics" is derived from the Gr. [Greek: ethikos], that which pertains to [Greek: ethos], character.

For convenience in reference, the arrangement followed in this article may be explained at the outset:--

PAGE I. DEFINITION AND SCOPE 809

II. HISTORICAL SKETCH 810

A. Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics 810 The Age of the Sophists 811 Socrates and his Disciples 811 Plato 812 Plato and Aristotle 814 Aristotle 815 Stoicism 816 Hedonism (Epicurus) 818 Later Greek and Roman Ethics 818 Neoplatonism 819

B. Christianity and Medieval Ethics 820 Christian and Jewish "Law of God" 820 Christian and Pagan Inwardness 820 (Knowledge, Faith, Love, Purity) Distinctive Particulars of Christian Morality 821 Development of Opinion in Early Christianity, Augustine, Ambrose 823 Medieval Morality and Moral Philosophy 824 Thomas Aquinas 824 Casuistry and Jesuitry 826 The Reformation; and birth of Modern Thought 826

C. Modern Ethics 827 Grotius 827 Hobbes 827 The Cambridge Moralists 828 (Cudworth, More) Cumberland 829 Locke 829 Clarke 829 Shaftesbury 830 Mandeville 830 Butler 831 Wollaston 831 Hutcheson 831 Hume 832 Adam Smith 833 The Intuitional School 833 (Price, Reid, Stewart, Whewell) The Utilitarian School 835 (Paley, Bentham, Mill) Association and Evolution 837 Free-will 837 French Influence on English Ethics 838 (Helvetius, Comte) German Influence on English Ethics 839 (Kant, Hegel)

D. Ethics since 1879 840

III. BIBLIOGRAPHY 845

Section I. contains a general survey of the subject; it shows in what sense ethics is to be regarded as a special field of philosophical investigation--its relations to other departments of thought, especially to psychology, religion and modern physical science. The article makes no attempt to give a detailed, casuistical examination of the matter of ethical theory. For this, reference must be made to special articles on philosophic schools, writers and terms.

Section II. is a historical sketch in four parts tracing the main lines of development in ethical speculation from its birth to the present day. Here again it has been possible to notice only the salient points or landmarks, leaving all detail to special articles as above. All important writers whose names occur in this sketch are treated in special biographical articles, and references are given as often as possible to supplementary articles which illustrate and explain points which cannot be fully treated here. This is especially the case in connexion with technical terms (whose history and meaning are inevitably taken for granted) and biographical information about minor ethical writers.

I. DEFINITION AND SUBJECT-MATTER OF ETHICS

In its widest sense, the term "ethics" would imply an examination into the general character or habits of mankind, and would even involve a description or history of the habits of men in particular societies living at different periods of time. Such a field of study would obviously be too wide for any particular science or philosophy to investigate, and moreover portions of the field are already occupied by history, by anthropology and by the particular sciences (e.g. physiology, anatomy, biology), in so far as the habits and character of men depend upon the material processes which these sciences examine. Even philosophies such as logic and aesthetic would be necessary for such an investigation, if thought and artistic production are normal human habits and elements in character. Ethics then is usually confined to the particular field of human character and conduct so far as they depend upon or exhibit certain general principles commonly known as moral principles. Men in general characterize their own conduct and character and that of other men by such general adjectives as good, bad, right and wrong, and it is the meaning and scope of these adjectives, primarily in relation to human conduct, and ultimately in their final and absolute sense, that ethics investigates.

A not uncommon definition of ethics as the "science of conduct" is inexact for various reasons. (1) The sciences are descriptive or experimental. But a description of what acts or what ends of action men in the present or the past call, or have called, "good" or "bad" is clearly beyond human powers. And experiments in morality (apart from the inconvenient practical consequences likely to ensue) are useless for purposes of ethics, because the moral consciousness would itself at one and the same time be required to make the experiment and to provide the subject upon which the experiment is performed. (2) Ethics is a philosophy and not a science. Philosophy is a process of reflection upon the presuppositions involved in unreflective thought. In logic and metaphysics it investigates either the process of apprehension itself, or conceptions such as cause, substance, space, time, which the ordinary scientific consciousness never criticizes. In moral philosophy the place of the body of sciences, which philosophy as the theory of knowledge investigates, is taken by the developed moral consciousness, which already pronounces moral judgment without hesitation, and claims authority to subject to continual criticism the institutions and forms of social life which it has itself helped to create.

When ethical speculation first begins, conceptions such as those of duty, responsibility, the will as the ultimate subject of moral approbation and disapprobation, are already in existence and already operative. Moral philosophy in a certain sense adds nothing to these conceptions, though it sets them in a clearer light. The problems of the moral consciousness at the time at which it first becomes reflective are not strictly speaking philosophical problems at all. It is occupied with just such questions as each individual man who wishes to act rightly is constantly called upon to answer, e.g. questions such as "What particular action will meet the claims of justice under such and such circumstances?" or "What degree of ignorance will excuse this particular person in this particular case from his responsibility?" It tries to attain a knowledge as complete as possible of the circumstances under which the act contemplated must be performed, the personalities of the persons whom it may affect, and the consequences (so far as they can be foreseen) which it will produce, and then by virtue of its own power of moral discrimination pronounces judgment. And the ever-recurring problem of the moral consciousness, "What ought to be done?" is one which receives a clearer and more definite answer as men become more able in the course of moral experience to apply those principles of the moral consciousness which are yet employed in that experience from the outset. Nevertheless there is a sense in which moral philosophy may be said to originate out of difficulties inherent in the nature of morality itself, although it remains true that the questions which ethics attempts to answer are never questions with which the moral consciousness as such is confronted. The fact that men give different answers to moral problems which seem similar in character, or even the mere fact that men disregard, when they act immorally, the dictates and implicit principles of the moral consciousness is certain sooner or later to produce the desire either, on the one hand, to justify immoral action by casting doubt upon the authority of the moral consciousness and the validity of its principles, or, on the other hand, to justify particular moral judgments either by (the only valid method) an analysis of the moral principle involved in the judgment and a demonstration of its universal acceptation, or by some attempted proof that the particular moral judgment is arrived at by a process of inference from some universal conception of the Supreme Good or the Final End from which all particular duties or virtues may be deduced. It may be that criticism of morality first originates with a criticism of existing moral institutions or codes of ethics; such a criticism may be due to the spontaneous activity of the moral consciousness itself. But when such criticism passes into the attempt to find a universal criterion of morality--such an attempt being in effect an effort to make morality scientific--and especially when the attempt is seen, as it must in the end be seen, to fail (the moral consciousness being superior to all standards of morality and realizing itself wholly in particular judgments), then ethics as a _process of reflection_ upon the nature of the moral consciousness may be said to begin. If this be true it follows that one of the chief function of ethics must be criticism of mistaken attempts to find a criterion of morality superior to the pronouncements of the moral consciousness itself. The ultimate superiority of the moral consciousness over all other standards is recognized, even by those who impugn its authority, whenever they claim that all men ought to recognize the superior value of the standards which they themselves wish to substitute. Similarly, their opponents refute their arguments by showing that they are based ultimately upon a recognition of certain distinctions which are moral distinctions (i.e. imply a moral consciousness capable of discriminating between right and wrong in particular cases), and that these moral distinctions conflict with the conclusions which they reach.

This may briefly be illustrated by reference to some of the great fundamental controversies of ethics. None of these originates out of conflicting statements of the moral consciousness, i.e. there is no fundamental contradiction in morality itself. No one (if unsophisticated) ever confused the conception of pleasure with the conception of the Good, or thought that the claims of selfish interest were identical with those of duty. But the controversy between hedonists and anti-hedonists originates as soon as men reflect that a good which is not in some sense "my" good is not good at all, or that no act can be said to be moral which does not satisfy "me." Or, again, the reflection that the mark or sign of the perfect performance of a particular virtuous act or function is the presence of a characteristic pleasure which always accompanies it, is opposed to the reflection that it is a mark of the highest morality never to rest satisfied, and out of these seemingly contradictory statements of the reflective consciousness might arise a multitude of controversies either concerning pleasure and duty, or the even more difficult and complex conceptions of merit, progress, and the nature of the Supreme Good or Final End.

The Sciences.

Theology.

When and how fresh controversies in ethics will begin it would be impossible for any one to foretell. Sometimes the dominance of a particular science or branch of study is the occasion of an attempt to apply to ethics ideas borrowed from or analogous to the conceptions of that science. False analogies drawn between ethics and mathematics or between morality and the perception of beauty have wrought much mischief in modern and to some degree even in ancient ethics. The influence of ideas borrowed from biology is everywhere manifest in the ethical speculations of modern times. Sometimes, again, whole theories of ethics have been formulated which can be seen in the end to be efforts to subordinate moral conceptions to conceptions belonging properly to institutions or departments of human thought and activity which the moral consciousness has itself originated. Law, for instance, depends, or at least ought to depend, upon men's need for and consciousness of justice. And such institutions as the family and the state are created by the social consciousness, which is the moral consciousness from another aspect. Yet morality has been subordinated to legal and social sanctions, and moral advance has been held to be conditioned by political and social necessities which are not moral needs. Similarly no one since civilization emerged from barbarism has ever really been willing to yield allegiance to a deity who is not moral in the fullest and highest sense of the word. God is not superior to moral law. Yet there have been whole systems of theological ethics which have attempted to base human morality upon the arbitrary will of God or upon the supreme authority of a divinely inspired book or code of laws. One of the greatest of all ethical controversies, that concerning the freedom of the will, arose directly out of what was in reality a theological problem--the necessity, namely, of reconciling God's foreknowledge with human freedom. The unreflective moral consciousness never finds it difficult to distinguish between a man's power of willing and all the forces of circumstance, heredity and the like, which combine to form the temptations to which he may yield or bid defiance; and such facts as "remorse" and "penitence" are a continual testimony to man's sense of freedom. But so soon as men perceive upon reflection an apparent discrepancy between the utterances of their moral consciousness and certain conclusions to which theological speculation (or at a later period metaphysical and scientific inquiries) seems inevitably to lead them, they will not rest satisfied until the belief in the will's freedom (hitherto unquestioned) is upon further reflection justified or condemned. It is clear then that the complexity of the subject-matter of ethics is such that no sharply defined boundary lines can be drawn between it and other branches of inquiry. Just in so far as it presupposes the apprehension of moral facts, it must presuppose a knowledge of the system of social relationships upon which some at least of those facts depend. No one, for instance, could inquire into the nature of justice without being further compelled to undertake an examination of the nature of the state.

Psychology.

It would be difficult to decide how much of the dispute between the advocates of pleasure theories and their opponents turns upon vexed questions of psychology, and how much is strictly relevant to ethics. If, as has already been said, one of the chief tasks of ethics is to prevent the intrusion into its own sphere of inquiry of ideas borrowed from other and alien sources, then obviously these sources must be investigated. One example of this necessity may be given. It is sometimes maintained that the proper method of ethics is the psychological method; ethics, we are told, should examine as its subject-matter moral sentiments wherever found, without raising ultimate questions as to the nature of obligation or moral authority in general. Now if in opposition to such arguments the ultimate character of moral obligation be defended, it will be necessary to point out that no one feels moral sentiments except in connexion with particular objects of moral approbation or disapprobation (e.g. gratitude is inexplicable apart from a particular relationship existing between two or more persons), and that these objects are objects of the moral consciousness alone. But such a line of argument is certain to make necessary an inquiry into the nature of the objects of psychological study which may produce quite unforeseen results for psychology.

Nothing therefore is to be gained by confining ethics within limits which must from the nature of the case be arbitrary. The defender at all events of the supremacy of moral intuitions must be prepared to follow whither the argument leads, into whatever strange quarters it may direct him. But this much may be said by way of delimitation of the scope of ethics: however complicated and involved its arguments and processes of inference may become, the facts from which they start and the conclusions to which they point are such as the moral consciousness alone can understand or warrant. (H. H. W.)

II. HISTORICAL SKETCH

A. _Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics._--The ethical speculation of Greece, and therefore of Europe, had no abrupt and absolute beginning. The naive and fragmentary precepts of conduct, which are everywhere the earliest manifestation of nascent moral reflection, are a noteworthy element in the gnomic poetry of the 7th and 6th centuries B.C. Their importance is shown by the traditional enumeration of the Seven Sages of the 6th century, and their influence on ethical thought is attested by the references of Plato and Aristotle. But from these unscientific utterances to a philosophy of morals was a long process. In the practical wisdom of Thales (q.v.), one of the seven, we cannot discern any systematic theory of morality. In the case of Pythagoras, conspicuous among pre-Socratic philosophers as the founder not merely of a school, but of a sect or order bound by a common rule of life, there is a closer connexion between moral and metaphysical speculation. The doctrine of the Pythagoreans that the essence of justice (conceived as equal retribution) was a square number, indicates a serious attempt to extend to the region of conduct their mathematical view of the universe; and the same may be said of their classification of good with unity, straightness and the like, and of evil with the opposite qualities. Still, the enunciation of the moral precepts of Pythagoras appears to have been dogmatic, or even prophetic, rather than philosophic, and to have been accepted by his disciples with an unphilosophic reverence as the _ipse dixit_[1] of the master. Hence, whatever influence the Pythagorean blending of ethical and mathematical notions may have had on Plato, and, through him, on later thought, we cannot regard the school as having really forestalled the Socratic inquiry after a completely reasoned theory of conduct. The ethical element in the "dark" philosophizing of Heraclitus (c. 530-470 B.C.), though it anticipates Stoicism in its conceptions of a law of the universe, to which the wise man will carefully conform, and a divine harmony, in the recognition of which he will find his truest satisfaction, is more profound, but even less systematic. It is only when we come to Democritus, a contemporary of Socrates, the last of the original thinkers whom we distinguish as pre-Socratic, that we find anything which we can call an ethical system. The fragments that remain of the moral treatises of Democritus are sufficient, perhaps, to convince us that the turn of Greek philosophy in the direction of conduct, which was actually due to Socrates, would have taken place without him, though in a less decided manner; but when we compare the Democritean ethics with the post-Socratic system to which it has most affinity, Epicureanism, we find that it exhibits a very rudimentary apprehension of the formal conditions which moral teaching must fulfil before it can lay claim to be treated as scientific.

The truth is that no system of ethics could be constructed until attention had been directed to the vagueness and inconsistency of the common moral opinions of mankind. For this purpose was needed the concentration of a philosophic intellect of the first order on the problems of practice. In Socrates first we find the required combination of a paramount interest in conduct and an ardent desire for knowledge. The pre-Socratic thinkers were all primarily devoted to ontological research; but by the middle of the 5th century B.C. the conflict of their dogmatic systems had led some of the keenest minds to doubt the possibility of penetrating the secret of the physical universe. This doubt found expression in the reasoned scepticism of Gorgias, and produced the famous proposition of Protagoras, that human apprehension is the only standard of existence. The same feeling led Socrates to abandon the old physico-metaphysical inquiries. In his ease, moreover, it was strengthened by a naive piety that forbade him to search into things of which the gods seemed to have reserved the knowledge to themselves. The regulation of human action, on the other hand (except on occasions of special difficulty, for which omens and oracles might be vouchsafed), they had left to human reason. On this accordingly Socrates concentrated his efforts.

The Sophists.

Socrates.

Though, however, Socrates was the first to arrive at a proper conception of the problems of conduct, the general idea did not originate with him. The natural reaction against the metaphysical and ethical dogmatism of the early thinkers had reached its climax in the Sophists (q.v.). Gorgias and Protagoras are only representatives of what was really a universal tendency to abandon dogmatic theory and take refuge in practical matters, and especially, as was natural in the Greek city-state, in the civic relations of the citizen. The education given by the Sophists aimed at no general theory of life, but professed to expound the art of getting on in the world and of managing public affairs. In their eulogy of the virtues of the citizen, they pointed out the prudential character of justice and the like as a means of obtaining pleasure and avoiding pain. The Greek conception of society was such that the life of the free-born citizen consisted mainly of his public function, and, therefore, the pseudo-ethical disquisitions of the Sophists satisfied the requirements of the age. None thought of [Greek: arete] (virtue or excellence) as a unique quality possessed of an intrinsic value, but as the virtue of the citizen, just as good flute-playing was the virtue of the flute-player. We see here, as in other activities of the age, a determination to acquire technical knowledge, and to apply it directly to the practical issue; just as music was being enriched by new technical knowledge, architecture by modern theories of plans and T-squares (sc. Hippodamus), the handling of soldiers by the new technique of "tactics" and "hoplitics," so citizenship must be analysed afresh, systematized and adapted in relation to modern requirements. The Sophists had studied these matters superficially indeed but with thoroughness as far as they went, and it is not remarkable that they should have taken the methods which were successful in rhetoric, and applied them to the "science and art" of civic virtues. Plato's _Protagoras_ claims, not unjustly, that in teaching virtue they simply did systematically what every one else was doing at haphazard. But in the true sense of the word, they had no ethical system at all, nor did they contribute save by contrast to ethical speculation. They merely analysed conventional formulae, much in the manner of certain modern so-called "scientific" moralists. Into this arena of hazy popular common sense Socrates brought a new critical spirit, showing that these popular lecturers, in spite of their fertile eloquence, could not defend their fundamental assumptions, nor even give rational definitions of what they professed to explain. Not only were they thus "ignorant," but they were also perpetually inconsistent with themselves in dealing with particular instances. Thus, by the aid of his famous "dialectic," Socrates arrived first at the negative result that the professed teachers of the people were as ignorant as he himself claimed to be, and in a measure justified the eulogy of Aristotle that he rendered to philosophy the service of "introducing induction and definitions." This description of his work is, however, both too technical and too positive, if we may judge from those earlier dialogues of Plato in which the real Socrates is found least modified. The pre-eminent wisdom which the Delphic oracle attributed to him was held by himself to consist in a unique consciousness of ignorance. Yet it is equally clear from Plato that there was a most important positive element in the teaching of Socrates in virtue of which it is just to say with Alexander Bain, "the first important name in ancient ethical philosophy is Socrates." The union of the negative and the positive elements in his work has caused historians no little perplexity, and we cannot quite save the philosopher's consistency unless we regard some of the doctrines attributed to him by Xenophon as merely tentative and provisional. Still the positions of Socrates that are most important in the history of ethical thought not only are easy to harmonize with his conviction of ignorance, but even render it easier to understand his unwearied cross-examination of common opinion. While he showed clearly the difficulty of acquiring knowledge, he was convinced that knowledge alone could be the source of a coherent system of virtue, as error of evil. Socrates, therefore, first in the history of thought, propounds a positive scientific law of conduct. Virtue is knowledge. This principle involved the paradox that no man, knowing good, would do evil. But it was a paradox derived from his unanswerable truisms, "Every one wishes for his own good, and would get it if he could," and "No one would deny that justice and virtue generally are goods, and of all goods the best." All virtues are, therefore, summed up in knowledge of the good. But this good is not, for Socrates, duty as distinct from interest. The force of the paradox depends upon a blending of duty and interest in the single notion of good, a blending which was dominant in the common thought of the age. This it is which forms the kernel of the positive thought of Socrates according to Xenophon. He could give no satisfactory account of Good in the abstract, and evaded all questions on this point by saying that he knew "no good that was not good _for something in particular_," but that good is consistent with itself. For himself he prized above all things the wisdom that is virtue, and in the task of producing it he endured the hardest penury, maintaining that such life was richer in enjoyment than a life of luxury. This many-sidedness of view is illustrated by the curious blending of noble and merely utilitarian sentiment in his account of friendship: a friend who can be of no service is valueless; yet the highest service that a friend can render is moral improvement.

The historically important characteristics of his moral philosophy, if we take (as we must) his teaching and character together, may be summarized as follows:--(1) an ardent inquiry for knowledge nowhere to be found, but which, if found, would perfect human conduct; (2) a demand meanwhile that men should act as far as possible on some consistent theory; (3) a provisional adhesion to the commonly received view of good, in all its incoherent complexity, and a perpetual readiness to maintain the harmony of its different elements, and demonstrate the superiority of virtue by an appeal to the standard of self-interest; (4) personal firmness, as apparently easy as it was actually invincible, in carrying out consistently such practical convictions as he had attained. It is only when we keep all these points in view that we can understand how from the spring of Socratic conversation flowed the divergent streams of Greek ethical thought.

The Socratic Schools.

Four distinct philosophical schools trace their immediate origin to the circle that gathered round Socrates--the Megarian, the Platonic, the Cynic and the Cyrenaic. The impress of the master is manifest on all, in spite of the wide differences that divide them; they all agree in holding the most important possession of man to be wisdom or knowledge, and the most important knowledge to be knowledge of Good. Here, however, the agreement ends. The more philosophic part of the circle, forming a group in which Euclid of Megara (see MEGARIAN SCHOOL) seems at first to have taken the lead, regarded this Good as the object of a still unfulfilled quest, and were led to identify it with the hidden secret of the universe, and thus to pass from ethics to metaphysics. Others again, whose demand for knowledge was more easily satisfied, and who were more impressed with the positive and practical side of the master's teaching, made the quest a much simpler affair. They took the Good as already known, and held philosophy to consist in the steady application of this knowledge to conduct. Among these were Antisthenes the Cynic and Aristippus of Cyrene. It is by their recognition of the duty of living consistently by theory instead of mere impulse or custom, their sense of the new value given to life through this rationalization, and their effort to maintain the easy, calm, unwavering firmness of the Socratic temper, that we recognize both Antisthenes and Aristippus as "Socratic men," in spite of the completeness with which they divided their master's positive doctrine into systems diametrically opposed. Of their contrasted principles we may perhaps say that, while Aristippus took the most obvious logical step for reducing the teaching of Socrates to clear dogmatic unity, Antisthenes certainly drew the most natural inference from the Socratic life.

Aristippus.

Aristippus (see CYRENAICS) argued that, if all that is beautiful or admirable in conduct has this quality as being useful, i.e. productive of some further good; if virtuous action is essentially action done with insight, or rational apprehension of the act as a means to this good, this good must be pleasure. Bodily pleasures and pains Aristippus held to be the keenest, though he does not seem to have maintained this on any materialistic theory, as he admitted the existence of purely mental pleasures, such as joy in the prosperity of one's native land. He fully recognized that his good was capable of being realized only in successive parts, and gave even exaggerated emphasis to the rule of seeking the pleasure of the moment, and not troubling oneself about a dubious future. It was in the calm, resolute, skilful culling of such pleasures as circumstances afforded from moment to moment, undisturbed by passion, prejudices or superstition, that he conceived the quality of wisdom to be exhibited; and tradition represents him as realizing this ideal to an impressive degree. Among the prejudices from which the wise man was free he included all regard to customary morality beyond what was due to the actual penalties attached to its violation; though he held, with Socrates, that these penalties actually render conformity reasonable. Thus early in the history of ethical theory appeared the most thorough-going exposition of hedonism.

The Cynics.

Far otherwise was the Socratic spirit understood by Antisthenes and the Cynics (q.v.). They equally held that no speculative research was needed for the discovery of good and virtue, and maintained that the Socratic wisdom was exhibited, not in the skilful pursuit, but in the rational disregard of pleasure,--in the clear apprehension of the intrinsic worthlessness of this and most other objects of men's ordinary desires and aims. Pleasure, indeed, Antisthenes declared roundly to be an evil; "Better madness than a surrender to pleasure." He did not overlook the need of supplementing merely intellectual insight by "Socratic force of soul"; but it seemed to him that, by insight and self-mastery combined, an absolute spiritual independence might be attained which left nothing wanting for perfect well-being (see also DIOGENES). For as for poverty, painful toil, disrepute, and such evils as men dread most, these, he argued, were positively useful as means of progress in spiritual freedom and virtue. There is, however, in the Cynic notion of wisdom, no positive criterion beyond the mere negation of irrational desires and prejudices. We saw that Socrates, while not claiming to have found the abstract theory of good or wise conduct, practically understood by it the faithful performance of customary duties, maintaining always that his own happiness was therewith bound up. The Cynics more boldly discarded both pleasure and mere custom as alike irrational; but in so doing they left the freed reason with no definite aim but its own freedom. It is absurd, as Plato urged, to say that knowledge is the good, and then when asked "knowledge of what?" to have no positive reply but "of the good"; but the Cynics do not seem to have made any serious effort to escape from this absurdity.

The ultimate views of these two Socratic schools we shall have to notice presently when we come to the post-Aristotelian schools. We must now proceed to trace the fuller development of the Socratic theory in the hands of Plato and Aristotle.

Plato.

The ethics of Plato cannot properly be treated as a finished result, but rather as a continual movement from the position of Socrates towards the more complete, articulate system of Aristotle; except that there are ascetic and mystical suggestions in some parts of Plato's teaching which find no counterpart in Aristotle, and in fact disappear from Greek philosophy soon after Plato's death until they are revived and fantastically developed in Neopythagoreanism and Neoplatonism. The first stage at which we can distinguish Plato's ethical view from that of Socrates is presented in the _Protagoras_, where he makes a serious, though clearly tentative effort to define the object of that knowledge which he with his master regards as the essence of all virtue. Such knowledge, he here maintains, is really mensuration of pleasures and pains, whereby the wise man avoids those mistaken under-estimates of future feelings in comparison with present which we commonly call "yielding to fear or desire." This hedonism has perplexed Plato's readers needlessly (as we have said in speaking of the Cyrenaics), inasmuch as hedonism is the most obvious corollary of the Socratic doctrine that the different common notions of good--the beautiful, the pleasant and the useful--were to be somehow interpreted by each other. By Plato, however, this conclusion could have been held only before he had accomplished the movement of thought by which he carried the Socratic method beyond the range of human conduct and developed it into a metaphysical system.

This movement may be expressed thus. "If we know," said Socrates, "what justice is, we can give an account or definition of it"; true knowledge must be knowledge of the general fact, common to all the individual cases to which we apply our general notion. But this must be no less true of other objects of thought and discourse; the same relation of general notions to particular examples extends through the whole physical universe; we can think and talk of it only by means of such notions. True or scientific knowledge then must be general knowledge, relating, not to individuals primarily, but to the general facts or qualities which individuals exemplify; in fact, our notion of an individual, when examined, is found to be an aggregate of such general qualities. But, again, the object of true knowledge must be what really exists; hence the reality of the universe must lie in general facts or relations, and not in the individuals that exemplify them.

So far the steps are plain enough; but we do not yet see how this logical Realism (as it was afterwards called) comes to have the essentially ethical character that especially interests us in Platonism. Plato's philosophy is now concerned with the whole universe of being; yet the ultimate object of his philosophic contemplation is still "the good," now conceived as the ultimate ground of all being and knowledge. That is, the essence of the universe is identified with its end,--the "formal" with the "final" cause of things, to use the later Aristotelian phraseology. How comes this about?

Perhaps we may best explain this by recurring to the original application of the Socratic method to human affairs. Since all rational activity is for some end, the different arts or functions of human industry are naturally defined by a statement of their ends or uses; and similarly, in giving an account of the different artists and functionaries, we necessarily state their end, "what they are good for." In a society well ordered on Socratic principles, every human being would be put to some use; the essence of his life would consist in doing what he was good for (his proper [Greek: ergon]). But again, it is easy to extend this view throughout the whole region of organized life; an eye that does not attain its end by seeing is without the essence of an eye. In short, we may say of all organs and instruments that they are what we think them in proportion as they fulfil their function and attain their end. If, then, we conceive the whole universe organically, as a complex arrangement of means to ends, we shall understand how Plato might hold that all things really _were_, or (as we say) "realized their idea," in proportion as they accomplished the special end or good for which they were adapted. Even Socrates, in spite of his aversion to physics, was led by pious reflection to expound a teleological view of the physical world, as ordered in all its parts by divine wisdom for the realization of some divine end; and, in the metaphysical turn which Plato gave to this view, he was probably anticipated by Euclid of Megara, who held that the one real being is "that which we call by many names, Good, Wisdom, Reason or God," to which Plato, raising to a loftier significance the Socratic identification of the beautiful with the useful, added the further name of Absolute Beauty, explaining how man's love of the beautiful finally reveals itself as the yearning for the end and essence of being.

Plato, therefore, took this vast stride of thought, and identified the ultimate notions of ethics and ontology. We have now to see what attitude he will adopt towards the practical inquiries from which he started. What will now be his view of wisdom, virtue, pleasure and their relation to human well-being?

The answer to this question is inevitably somewhat complicated. In the first place we have to observe that philosophy has now passed definitely from the market-place into the lecture-room. The quest of Socrates was for the true art of conduct for a man living a practical life among his fellows. But if the objects of abstract thought constitute the real world, of which this world of individual things is but a shadow, it is plain that the highest, most real life must lie in the former region and not in the latter. It is in contemplating the abstract reality which concrete things obscurely exhibit, the type or ideal which they imperfectly imitate, that the true life of the mind in man must consist; and as man is most truly man in proportion as he is mind, the desire of one's own good, which Plato, following Socrates, held to be permanent and essential in every living thing, becomes in its highest form the philosophic yearning for knowledge. This yearning, he held, springs--like more sensual impulses--from a sense of want of something formerly possessed, of which there remains a latent memory in the soul, strong in proportion to its philosophic capacity; hence it is that in learning any abstract truth by scientific demonstration we merely make explicit what we already implicitly know; we bring into clear consciousness hidden memories of a state in which the soul looked upon Reality and Good face to face, before the lapse that imprisoned her in an alien body and mingled her true nature with fleshly feelings and impulses. We thus reach the paradox that the true art of living is really an "art of dying" as far as possible to mere sense, in order more fully to exist in intimate union with absolute goodness and beauty. On the other hand, since the philosopher must still live and act in the concrete sensible world, the Socratic identification of wisdom and virtue is fully maintained by Plato. Only he who apprehends good in the abstract can imitate it in such transient and imperfect good as may be realized in human life, and it is impossible that, having this knowledge, he should not act on it, whether in private or public affairs. Thus, in the true philosopher, we shall necessarily find the practically good man, who being "likest of men to the gods is best loved by them"; and also the perfect statesman, if only the conditions of his society allow him a sphere for exercising his statesmanship.

Virtue a harmony.

The characteristics of this practical goodness in Plato's matured thought correspond to the fundamental conceptions in his view of the universe. The soul of man, in its good or normal condition, must be ordered and harmonized under the guidance of reason. The question then arises, "Wherein does this order or harmony precisely consist?" In explaining how Plato was led to answer this question, it will be well to notice that, while faithfully maintaining the Socratic doctrine that the highest virtue was inseparable from knowledge of the good, he had come to recognize an inferior kind of virtue, possessed by men who were not philosophers. It is plain that if the good that is to be known is the ultimate ground of the whole of things, it is attainable only by a select and carefully trained few. Yet we can hardly restrict all virtue to these alone. What account, then, was to be given of ordinary "civic" bravery, temperance and justice? It seemed clear that men who did their duty, resisting the seductions of fear and desire, must have right opinions, if not knowledge, as to the good and evil in human life; but whence comes this right "opinion"? Partly, Plato said, it comes by nature and "divine allotment," but for its adequate development "custom and practice" are required. Hence the paramount importance of education and discipline for civic virtue; and even for future philosophers such moral culture, in which physical and aesthetic training must co-operate, is indispensable; no merely intellectual preparation will suffice. His point is that perfect knowledge cannot be implanted in a soul that has not gone through a course of preparation including much more than physical training. What, then, is this preparation? A distinct step in psychological analysis was taken when Plato recognized that its effect was to produce the "harmony" above mentioned among different parts of the soul, by subordinating the impulsive elements to reason. These non-rational elements he further distinguished as appetitive ([Greek: to epithumetikon]) and spirited ([Greek: to thumoeides] or [Greek: thumos])--the practical separateness of which from each other and from reason he held to be established by our inner experience.

On this triple division of the soul he founded a systematic view of the four kinds of goodness recognized by the common moral consciousness of Greece, and in later times known as the Cardinal Virtues (q.v.). Of these the two most fundamental were (as has been already indicated) wisdom--in its highest form philosophy--and that harmonious and regulated activity of all the elements of the soul which Plato regards as the essence of uprightness in social relations ([Greek: dikaiosyne]). The import of this term is essentially social; and we can explain Plato's use of it only by reference to the analogy which he drew between the individual man and the community. In a rightly ordered polity social and individual well-being alike would depend on that harmonious action of diverse elements, each performing its proper function, which in its social application is more naturally termed [Greek: dikaiosyne]. We see, moreover, how in Plato's view the fundamental virtues, Wisdom and Justice in their highest forms, are mutually involved. Wisdom will necessarily maintain orderly activity, and this latter consists in regulation by wisdom, while the two more special virtues of Courage ([Greek: andreia]) and Temperance ([Greek: sophrosyne]) are only different sides or aspects of this wisely regulated action of the complex soul.

Such, then, are the forms in which essential good seemed to manifest itself in human life. It remains to ask whether the statement of these gives a complete account of human well-being, or whether pleasure also is to be included. On this point Plato's view seems to have gone through several oscillations. After apparently maintaining (_Protagoras_) that pleasure is the good, he passes first to the opposite extreme, and denies it (_Phaedo, Gorgias_) to be a good at all. For (1), as concrete and transient, it is obviously not the real essential good that the philosopher seeks; (2) the feelings most prominently recognized as pleasures are bound up with pain, as good can never be with evil; in so far, then, as common sense rightly recognizes some pleasures as good, it can only be from their tendency to produce some further good. This view, however, was too violent a divergence from Socratism for Plato to remain in it. That pleasure is not the real absolute good, was no ground for not including it in the good of concrete human life; and after all only coarse and vulgar pleasures were indissolubly linked to the pains of want. Accordingly, in the _Republic_ he has no objection to trying the question of the intrinsic superiority of philosophic or virtuous[2] life by the standard of pleasure, and argues that the philosophic (or good) man alone enjoys real pleasure, while the sensualist spends his life in oscillating between painful want and the merely neutral state of painlessness, which he mistakes for positive pleasure. Still more emphatically is it declared in the _Laws_ that when we are "discoursing to men, not to gods," we must show that the life which we praise as best and noblest is also that in which there is the greatest excess of pleasure over pain. But though Plato holds this inseparable connexion of best and pleasantest to be true and important, it is only for the sake of the vulgar that he lays this stress on pleasure. For in the most philosophical comparison in the _Philebus_ between the claims of pleasure and wisdom the former is altogether worsted; and though a place is allowed to the pure pleasures of colour, form and sound, and of intellectual exercise, and even to the "necessary" satisfaction of appetite, it is only a subordinate one. At the same time, in his later view, Plato avoids the exaggeration of denying all positive quality of pleasure even to the coarser sensual gratifications; they are undoubtedly cases of that "replenishment" or "restoration" to its "natural state" of a bodily organ, in which he defines pleasure to consist (see _Timaeus_, pp. 64, 65); he merely maintains that the common estimate of them is to a large extent illusory, or a false appearance of pleasure is produced by contrast with the antecedent or concomitant painful condition of the organ. It is not surprising that this somewhat complicated and delicately balanced view of the relations of "good" and "pleasure" was not long maintained within the Platonic school, and that under Speusippus, Plato's successor, the main body of Platonists took up a simply anti-hedonistic position, as we learn from the polemic of Aristotle. In the _Philebus_, however, though a more careful psychological analysis leads him to soften down the exaggerations of this attack on sensual pleasure, the antithesis of knowledge and pleasure is again sharpened, and a desire to depreciate even good pleasures is more strongly shown; still even here pleasure is recognized as a constituent of that philosophic life which is the highest human good, while in the _Laws_, where the subject is more popularly treated, it is admitted that we cannot convince man that the just life is the best unless we can also prove it to be the pleasantest.

Plato and Aristotle.

When a student passes from Plato to Aristotle, he is so forcibly impressed by the contrast between the habits of mind of the two authors, and the literary manners of the two philosophers, that it is easy to understand how their systems have come to be popularly conceived as diametrically opposed to each other; and the uncompromising polemic which Aristotle, both in his ethical and in his metaphysical treatises, directs against Plato and the platonists, has tended strongly to confirm this view. Yet a closer inspection shows us that when a later president of the Academy (Antiochus of Ascalon) repudiated the scepticism which for two hundred years had been accepted as the traditional Platonic doctrine, he had good grounds for claiming Plato and Aristotle as consentient authorities for the ethical position which he took up. For though Aristotle's divergence from Plato is very conspicuous when we consider either his general conception of the subject of ethics, or the details of his system of virtues, still his agreement with his master is almost complete as regards the main outline of his theory of human good; the difference between the two practically vanishes when we view them in relation to the later controversy between Stoics and Epicureans. Even on the cardinal point on which Aristotle entered into direct controversy with Plato, the definite disagreement between the two is less than at first appears; the objections of the disciple hit that part of the master's system that was rather imagined than thought; the main positive result of Platonic speculation only gains in distinctness by the application of Aristotelian analysis.

Plato, we saw, held that there is one supreme science or wisdom, of which the ultimate object is absolute good; in the knowledge of this, the knowledge of all particular goods--that is, of all that we rationally desire to know--is implicitly contained; and also all practical virtue, as no one who truly knows what is good can fail to realize it. But in spite of the intense conviction with which he thus identified metaphysical speculation and practical wisdom, we find in his writings no serious attempt to deduce the particulars of human well-being from his knowledge of absolute good, still less to unfold from it the particular cognitions of the special arts and sciences. Indeed, we may say that the distinction which Aristotle explicitly draws between speculative science or wisdom and practical wisdom (on its political side statesmanship) is really indicated in Plato's actual treatment of the subjects, although the express recognition of it is contrary to his principles. The discussion of good (e.g.) in his _Philebus_ relates entirely to human good, and the respective claims of Thought and Pleasure to constitute this; he only refers in passing to the Divine Thought that is the good of the ordered world, as something clearly beyond the limits of the present discussion. So again, in his last great ethico-political treatise (the _Laws_) there is hardly a trace of his peculiar metaphysics. On the other hand, the relation between human and divine good, as presented by Aristotle, is so close that we can hardly conceive Plato as having definitely thought it closer. The substantial good of the universe, in Aristotle's view, is the pure activity of universal abstract thought, at once subject and object, which, itself changeless and eternal, is the final cause and first source of the whole process of change in the concrete world. And both he and Plato hold that a similar activity of pure speculative intellect is that in which the philosopher will seek to exist, though he must, being a man, concern himself with the affairs of ordinary human life, a region in which his highest good will be attained by realizing perfect moral excellence. No doubt Aristotle's demonstration of the inappropriateness of attributing moral excellence to the Deity seems to contradict Plato's doctrine that the just man as such is "likest the gods," but here again the discrepancy is reduced when we remember that the essence of Plato's justice ([Greek: dikaiosune]) is harmonious activity. No doubt, too, Aristotle's attribution of pleasure to the Divine Existence shows a profound metaphysical divergence from Plato; but it is a divergence which has no practical importance. Nor, again, is Aristotle's divergence from the Socratic principle that all "virtue is knowledge" substantially greater than Plato's, though it is more plainly expressed. Both accept the paradox in the qualified sense that no one can deliberately act contrary to what appears to him good, and that perfect virtue is inseparably bound up with perfect wisdom or moral insight. Both, however, recognize that this actuality of moral insight is not a function of the intellect only, but depends rather on careful training in good habits applied to minds of good natural dispositions, though the doctrine has no doubt a more definite and prominent place in Aristotle's system. The disciple certainly takes a step in advance by stating definitely, as an essential characteristic of virtuous action, that it is chosen for its own sake, for the beauty of virtue alone; but herein he merely formulates the conviction that his master inspires. Nor, finally, does Aristotle's account of the relation of pleasure to human well-being (although he has to combat the extreme anti-hedonism to which the Platonic school under Speusippus had been led) differ materially from the outcome of Plato's thought on this point, as the later dialogues present it to us. Pleasure, in Aristotle's view, is not the primary constituent of well-being, but rather an inseparable accident of it; human well-being is essentially well-doing, excellent activity of some kind, whether its aim and end be abstract truth or noble conduct; knowledge and virtue are objects of rational choice apart from the pleasure attending them; still all activities are attended and in a manner perfected by pleasure, which is better and more desirable in proportion to the excellence of the activity. He no doubt criticizes Plato's account of the nature of pleasure, arguing that we cannot properly conceive pleasure either as a "process" or as "replenishment"--the last term, he truly says, denotes a material rather than a psychical fact. But this does not interfere with the general ethical agreement between the two thinkers; and the doctrine that vicious pleasures are not true or real pleasures is so characteristically Platonic that we are almost surprised to find it in Aristotle.

Aristotle's ethics.

In so far as there is any important difference between the Platonic and the Aristotelian views of human good, we may observe that the latter has substantially a closer correspondence to the positive element in the ethical teaching of Socrates, though it is presented in a far more technical and scholastic form, and involves a more distinct rejection of the fundamental Socratic paradox. The same result appears when we compare the methods of the three philosophers. Although the Socratic induction forms a striking feature of Plato's dialogues, his ideal method of ethics is purely deductive; he admits common sense only as supplying provisional steps and starting-points from which the mind is to ascend to knowledge of absolute good, through which knowledge alone, as he conceives, the lower notions of particular goods are to be truly conceived. Aristotle, discarding the transcendentalism of Plato, naturally retained from Plato's teaching the original Socratic method of induction from and verification by common opinion. Indeed, the windings of his exposition are best understood if we consider his literary manner as a kind of Socratic dialogue formalized and reduced to a monologue. He first leads us by an induction to the fundamental notion of ultimate end or good for man. All men, in acting, aim at some result, either for its own sake or as a means to some further end; but obviously not everything can be sought merely as a means; there must be some ultimate end. In fact men commonly recognize such an end, and agree to call it well-being[3] ([Greek: eudaimonia]). But they take very different views of its nature; how shall we find the true view? We observe that men are classified according to their functions; all kinds of man, and indeed all organs of man, have their special functions, and are judged as functionaries and organs according as they perform their functions well or ill. May we not then infer that man, as man, has his proper function, and that the well-being or "doing well" that all seek really lies in fulfilling well the proper function of man,--that is, in living well that life of the rational soul which we recognize as man's distinctive attribute?

Again, this Socratic deference to common opinion is not shown merely in the way by which Aristotle reaches his fundamental conception; it equally appears in his treatment of the conception itself. In the first place, though in Aristotle's view the most perfect well-being consists in the exercise of man's "divinest part," pure speculative reason, he keeps far from the paradox of putting forward this and nothing else as human good; so far, indeed, that the greater part of his treatise is occupied with an exposition of the inferior good which is realized in practical life when the appetitive or impulsive (semi-rational) element of the soul operates under the due regulation of reason. Even when the notion of "good performance of function" was thus widened, and when it had further taken in the pleasure that is inseparably connected with such functioning, it did not yet correspond to the whole of what a Greek commonly understood as "human well-being." We may grant, indeed, that a moderate provision of material wealth is indirectly included, as an indispensable pre-requisite of a due performance of many functions as Aristotle conceives it--his system admits of no beatitudes for the poor; still there remain other goods, such as beauty, good birth, welfare of progeny, the presence or absence of which influenced the common view of a man's well-being, though they could hardly be shown to be even indirectly important to his "well-acting." These Aristotle attempts neither to exclude from the philosophic conception of well-being nor to include in his formal definition of it. The deliberate looseness which is thus given to his fundamental doctrine characterizes more or less his whole discussion of ethics. He plainly says that the subject does not admit of completely scientific treatment; his aim is to give not a definite theory of human good, but a practically adequate account of its most important constituents.

The most important element, then, of well-being or good life for ordinary men Aristotle holds to consist in well-doing as determined by the notions of the different moral excellences. In expounding these, he gives throughout the pure result of analytical observation of the common moral consciousness of his age. Ethical truth, in his view, is to be attained by careful comparison of particular moral opinions, just as physical truth is to be obtained by induction from particular physical observations. On account of the conflict of opinion in ethics we cannot hope to obtain certainty upon all questions; still reflection will lead us to discard some of the conflicting views and find a reconciliation for others, and will furnish, on the whole, a practically sufficient residuum of moral truth. This adhesion to common sense, though it involves a sacrifice of both depth and completeness in Aristotle's system, gives at the same time an historical interest which renders it deserving of special attention as an analysis of the current Greek ideal of "fair and good life" ([Greek: kalokagathia]). His virtues are not arranged on any clear philosophic plan; the list shows no serious attempt to consider human life exhaustively, and exhibit the standard of excellence appropriate to its different departments or aspects. He seems to have taken as a starting-point Plato's four cardinal virtues. The two comprehensive notions of Wisdom and Justice ([Greek: dikaiosune]) he treats separately. As regards both his analysis leads him to diverge considerably from Plato. As we saw, his distinction between practical and speculative Wisdom belongs to the deepest of his disagreements with his master; and in the case of [Greek: dikaiosune] again he distinguishes the wider use of the term to express Law-observance, which (he says) coincides with the social side of virtue generally, and its narrower use for the virtue that "aims at a kind of equality," whether (1) in the distribution of wealth, honour, &c., or (2) in commercial exchange, or (3) in the reparation of wrong done. Then, in arranging the other special virtues, he begins with courage and temperance, which (after Plato) he considers as the excellences of the "irrational element" of the soul. Next follow two pairs of excellences, concerned respectively with wealth and honour: (1) liberality and magnificence, of which the latter is exhibited in greater matters of expenditure, and (2) laudable ambition and highmindedness similarly related to honour. Then comes gentleness--the virtue regulative of anger; and the list is concluded by the excellences of social intercourse, friendliness (as a mean between obsequiousness and surliness), truthfulness and decorous wit.

The abundant store of just and close analytical observation contained in Aristotle's account of these notions give it a permanent interest, even beyond its historical value as a delineation of the Greek ideal of "fair and good" life.[4] But its looseness of arrangement and almost grotesque co-ordination of qualities widely differing in importance are obvious. Thus his famous general formula for virtue, that it is a mean or middle state, always to be found somewhere between the vices which stand to it in the relation of excess and defect, scarcely avails to render his treatment more systematic. It was important, no doubt, to express the need of observing due measure and proportion, in order to attain good results in human life no less than in artistic products; but the observation of this need was no new thing in Greek literature; indeed, it had already led the Pythagoreans and Plato to find the ultimate essence of the ordered universe in number. But Aristotle's purely quantitative statement of the relation of virtue and vice is misleading, even where it is not obviously inappropriate; and sometimes leads him to such eccentricities as that of making simple veracity a mean between boastfulness and mock-modesty.[5]

It ought to be said that Aristotle does not present the formula just discussed as supplying a criterion of good conduct in any particular case; he expressly leaves this to be determined by "correct reasoning, and the judgment of the practically-wise man ([Greek: ho phronimos])." We cannot, however, find that he has furnished any substantial principles for its determination; indeed, he hardly seems to have formed a distinct general idea of the practical syllogism by which he conceives it to be effected.[6] The kind of reasoning which his view of virtuous conduct requires is one in which the ultimate major premise states a distinctive characteristic of some virtue, and one or more minor premises show that such characteristic belongs to a certain mode of conduct under given circumstances; since it is essential to good conduct that it should contain its end in itself, and be chosen for its own sake. But he has not failed to observe that practical reasonings are not commonly of this kind, but are rather concerned with actions as means to ulterior ends; indeed, he lays stress on this as a characteristic of the "political" life, when he wishes to prove its inferiority to the life of pure speculation. Though common sense will admit that virtues are the best of goods, it still undoubtedly conceives practical wisdom as chiefly exercised in providing those inferior goods which Aristotle, after recognizing the need or use of them for the realization of human well-being, has dropped out of sight; and the result is that, in trying to make clear his conception of practical wisdom, we find ourselves fluctuating continually between the common notion, which he does not distinctly reject, and the notion required as the keystone of his ethical system.

Transition to Stoicism.

On the whole, there is probably no treatise so masterly as Aristotle's _Ethics_, and containing so much close and valid thought, that yet leaves on the reader's mind so strong an impression of dispersive and incomplete work. It is only by dwelling on these defects that we can understand the small amount of influence that his system exercised during the five centuries after his death, as compared with the effect which it has had, directly or indirectly, in shaping the thought of modern Europe. Partly, no doubt, the limited influence of his disciples, the Peripatetics (q.v.), is to be attributed to that exaltation of the purely speculative life which distinguished the Aristotelian ethics from other later systems, and which was too alien from the common moral consciousness to find much acceptance in an age in which the ethical aims of philosophy had again become paramount. Partly, again, the analytical distinctness of Aristotle's manner brings into special prominence the difficulties that attend the Socratic effort to reconcile the ideal aspirations of men with the principles on which their practical reasonings are commonly conducted. The conflict between these two elements of Common Sense was too profound to be compromised; and the moral consciousness of mankind demanded a more trenchant partisanship than Aristotle's. Its demands were met by the Stoic school which separated the moral from the worldly view of life, with an absoluteness and definiteness that caught the imagination; which regarded practical goodness as the highest manifestation of its ideal of wisdom; and which bound the common notions of duty into an apparently coherent system, by a formula that comprehended the whole of human life, and exhibited its relation to the ordered process of the universe. The intellectual descent of its ethical doctrines is principally to be traced to Socrates through the Cynics, though an important element in them seems attributable to the school that inherited the "Academy" of Plato. Both Stoic and Cynic maintained, in its sharpest form, the fundamental tenet that the practical knowledge which is virtue, with the condition of soul that is inseparable from it, is alone to be accounted good. He who exercises this wisdom or knowledge has complete well-being; all else is indifferent to him. It is true that the Cynics were more concerned to emphasize the negative side of the sage's well-being, while the Stoics brought into more prominence its positive side. This difference, however, did not amount to disagreement. The Stoics, in fact, seem generally to have regarded the eccentricities of Cynicism as an emphatic manner of expressing the essential antithesis between philosophy and the world; a manner which, though not necessary or even normal, might yet be advantageously adopted by the sage under certain circumstances.[7]

Stoicism.

Wherein, then, consists this knowledge or wisdom that makes free and perfect? Both Cynics and Stoics (q.v.) agreed that the most important part of it was the knowledge that the sole good of man lay in this knowledge or wisdom itself. It must be understood that by wisdom they meant wisdom realized in act; indeed, they did not conceive the existence of wisdom as separable from such realization. We may observe, too, that the Stoics rejected the divergence which we have seen gradually taking place in Platonic-Aristotelian thought from the position of Socrates, "that no one aims at what he knows to be bad." The stress that their psychology laid on the essential unity of the rational self that is the source of voluntary action prevented them from accepting Plato's analysis of the soul into a regulative element and elements needing regulation. They held that what we call passion is a morbid condition of the rational soul, involving erroneous judgment as to what is to be sought or shunned. From such passionate errors the truly wise man will of course be free. He will be conscious indeed of physical appetite; but he will not be misled into supposing that its object is really a good; he cannot, therefore, hope for the attainment of this object or fear to miss it, as these states involve the conception of it as a good. Similarly, though like other men he will be subject to bodily pain, this will not cause him mental grief or disquiet, as his worst agonies will not disturb his clear conviction that it is really indifferent to his true reasonable self.

That this impassive sage was a being not to be found among living men the later Stoics at least were fully aware. They faintly suggested that one or two moral heroes of old time might have realized the ideal, but they admitted that all other philosophers (even) were merely in a state of progress towards it. This admission did not in the least diminish the rigour of their demand for absolute loyalty to the exclusive claims of wisdom. The assurance of its own unique value that such wisdom involved they held to be an abiding possession for those who had attained it;[8] and without this assurance no act could be truly wise or virtuous. Whatever was not of knowledge was of sin; and the distinction between right and wrong being absolute and not admitting of degrees all sins were equally sinful; whoever broke the least commandment was guilty of the whole law. Similarly, all wisdom was somehow involved in any one of the manifestations of wisdom, commonly distinguished as particular virtues; though whether these virtues were specifically distinct, or only the same knowledge in different relations, was a subtle question on which the Stoics do not seem to have been agreed.

Aristotle had already been led to attempt a refutation of the Socratic identification of virtue with knowledge; but his attempt had only shown the profound difficulty of attacking the paradox, so long as it was admitted that no one could of deliberate purpose act contrary to what seemed to him best. Now, Aristotle's divergence from Socrates had not led him so far as to deny this; while for the Stoics who had receded to the original Socratic position, the difficulty was still more patent. This theory of virtue led them into two dilemmas. Firstly, if virtue is knowledge, does it follow that vice is involuntary? If not, it must be that ignorance is voluntary. This alternative is the less dangerous to morality, and as such the Stoics chose it. But they were not yet at the end of their perplexities; for while they were thus driven to an extreme extension of the range of human volition, their view of the physical universe involved an equally thorough-going determinism. How could the vicious man be responsible if his vice were strictly pre-determined? The Stoics answered that the error which was the essence of vice was so far voluntary that it could be avoided if men chose to exercise their reason. No doubt it depended on the innate force and firmness[9] of a man's soul whether his reason was effectually exercised; but moral responsibility was saved if the vicious act proceeded from the man himself and not from any external cause.

With all this we have not ascertained the positive practical content of this wisdom. How are we to emerge from the barren circle of affirming (1) that wisdom is the sole good and unwisdom the sole evil, and (2) that wisdom is the knowledge of good and evil; and attain some method for determining the particulars of good conduct? The Cynics made no attempt to solve this difficulty; they were content to mean by virtue what any plain man meant by it, except in so far as their sense of independence led them to reject certain received precepts and prejudices. The Stoics, on the other hand, not only worked out a detailed system of duties--or, as they termed them, "things meet and fit" ([Greek: kathekonta]) for all occasions of life; they were further especially concerned to comprehend them under a general formula. They found this by bringing out the positive significance of the notion of Nature, which the Cynic had used chiefly in a negative way, as an antithesis to the "consentions" ([Greek: nomos]), from which his knowledge had made him free. Even in this negative use of the notion it is necessarily implied that whatever active tendencies in man are found to be "natural"--that is, independent of and uncorrupted by social customs and conventions--will properly take effect in outward acts, but the adoption of "conformity to nature" as a general positive rule for outward conduct seems to have been due to the influence on Zeno of Academic teaching. Whence, however, can this authority belong to the natural, unless nature be itself an expression or embodiment of divine law and wisdom? The conception of the world, as organized and filled by divine thought, was common, in some form, to all the philosophies that looked back to Socrates as their founder,--some even maintaining that this thought was the sole reality. This pantheistic doctrine harmonized thoroughly with the Stoic view of human good; but being unable to conceive substance idealistically, they (with considerable aid from the system of Heraclitus) supplied a materialistic side to their pantheism,--conceiving divine thought as an attribute of the purest and most primary of material substances, a subtle fiery aether. This theological view of the physical universe had a double effect on the ethics of the Stoic. In the first place it gave to his cardinal conviction of the all-sufficiency of wisdom for human well-being a root of cosmical fact, and an atmosphere of religious and social emotion. The exercise of wisdom was now viewed as the pure life of that particle of divine substance which was in very truth the "god within him"; the reason whose supremacy he maintained was the reason of Zeus, and of all gods and reasonable men, no less than his own; its realization in any one individual was thus the common good of all rational beings as such; "the sage could not stretch out a finger rightly without thereby benefiting all other sages,"--nay, it might even be said that he was "as useful to Zeus as Zeus to him."[10] But again, the same conception served to harmonize the higher and the lower elements of human life. For even in the physical or non-rational man, as originally constituted, we may see clear indications of the divine design, which it belongs to his rational will to carry into conscious execution; indeed, in the first stage of human life, before reason is fully developed, uncorrupted natural impulse effects what is afterwards the work of reason. Thus the formula of "living according to nature," in its application to man as the "rational animal," may be understood both as directing that reason is to govern, and as indicating how that government is to be practically exercised. In man, as in every other animal, from the moment of birth natural impulse prompts to the maintenance of his physical frame; then, when reason has been developed and has recognized itself as its own sole good, these "primary ends of nature" and whatever promotes these still constitute the outward objects at which reason is to aim; there is a certain value ([Greek: axia]) in them, in proportion to which they are "preferred" ([Greek: proegmena]) and their opposites "rejected" ([Greek: apoproegmena]); indeed it is only in the due and consistent exercise of such choice that wisdom can find its practical manifestation. In this way all or most of the things commonly judged to be "goods"--health, strength, wealth, fame,[11] &c.,--are brought within the sphere of the sage's choice, though his real good is solely in the wisdom of the choice, and not in the thing chosen.

The doctrine of conformity to Nature as the rule of conduct was not peculiar to Stoicism. It is found in the theories of Speusippus, Xenocrates, and also to some extent in those of the Peripatetics. The peculiarity of the Stoics lay in their refusing to use the terms "good and evil" in connexion with "things indifferent," and in pointing out that philosophers, though independent of these things, must yet deal with them in practical life.

So far we have considered the "nature" of the individual man as apart from his social relations; but the sphere of virtue, as commonly conceived, lies chiefly in these, and this was fully recognized in the Stoic account of duties ([Greek: kathekonta]); indeed, in their exposition of the "natural" basis of justice, the evidence that man was born not for himself but for mankind is the most important part of their work in the region of practical morality. Here, however, we especially notice the double significance of "natural," as applied to (1) what actually exists everywhere or for the most part, and (2) what would exist if the original plan of man's life were fully carried out; and we find that the Stoics have not clearly harmonized the two elements of the notion. That man was "naturally" a social animal Aristotle had already taught; that all rational beings, in the unity of the reason that is common to all, form naturally one community with a common law was (as we saw) an immediate inference from the Stoic conception of the universe as a whole. That the members of this "city of Zeus" should observe their contracts, abstain from mutual harm, combine to protect each other from injury, were obvious points of natural law; while again, it was clearly necessary to the preservation of human society that its members should form sexual unions, produce children, and bestow care on their rearing and training. But beyond this nature did not seem to go in determining the relations of the sexes; accordingly, we find that community of wives was a feature of Zeno's ideal commonwealth, just as it was of Plato's; while, again, the strict theory of the school recognized no government or laws as true or binding except those of the sage; he alone is the true ruler, the true king. So far, the Stoic "nature" seems in danger of being as revolutionary as Rousseau's. Practically, however, this revolutionary aspect of the notion was kept for the most part in the background; the rational law of an ideal community was not distinguished from the positive ordinances and customs of actual society; and the "natural" ties that actually bound each man to family, kinsmen, fatherland, and to unwise humanity generally, supplied the outline on which the external manifestation of justice was delineated. It was a fundamental maxim that the sage was to take part in public life; and it does not appear that his political action was to be regulated by any other principles than those commonly accepted in his community. Similarly, in the view taken by the Stoics of the duties of social decorum, and in their attitude to the popular religion, we find a fluctuating compromise between the disposition to repudiate what is conventional, and the disposition to revere what is established, each tendency expressing in its own way the principle of "conforming to nature."

Stoics and hedonists.

Among the primary ends of nature, in which wisdom recognized a certain preferability, the Stoics included freedom from bodily pain; but they refused, even in this outer court of wisdom, to find a place for pleasure. They held that the latter was not an object of uncorrupted natural impulse, but an "aftergrowth" ([Greek: epigennema]). They thus endeavoured to resist Epicureanism even on the ground where the latter seems prima facie strongest; in its appeal, namely, to the natural pleasure-seeking of all living things. Nor did they merely mean by pleasure ([Greek: hedone]) the gratification of bodily appetite; we find (e.g.) Chrysippus urging, as a decisive argument against Aristotle, that pure speculation was "a kind of amusement; that is, pleasure." Even the "joy and gladness" ([Greek: chara, euphrosyne]) that accompany the exercise of virtue seem to have been regarded by them as merely an inseparable accident, not the essential constituent of well-being. It is only by a later modification of Stoicism that cheerfulness or peace of mind is taken as the real ultimate end, to which the exercise of virtue is merely a means. At the same time it is probable that the serene joys of virtue and the grieflessness which the sage was conceived to maintain amid the worst tortures, formed the main attractions of Stoicism for ordinary minds. In this sense it may be fairly said that Stoics and Epicureans made rival offers to mankind of the same kind of happiness; and the philosophical peculiarities of either system may be traced to the desire of being undisturbed by the changes and chances of life. The Stoic claims on this head were the loftiest; as the well-being of their sage was independent, not only of external things and bodily conditions, but of time itself; it was fully realized in a single exercise of wisdom and could not be increased by duration. This paradox is violent, but it is quite in harmony with the spirit of Stoicism; and we are more startled to find that the Epicurean sage, no less than the Stoic, is to be happy even on the rack; that his happiness, too, is unimpaired by being restricted in duration, when his mind has apprehended the natural limits of life; that, in short, Epicurus makes no less strenuous efforts than Zeno to eliminate imperfection from the conditions of human existence. This characteristic, however, is the key to the chief differences between Epicureanism and the more naive hedonism of Aristippus. The latter system gave the simplest and most obvious answer to the inquiry after ultimate good for man; but besides being liable, when developed consistently, to offend the common moral consciousness, it conspicuously failed to provide the "completeness" and "security" which, as Aristotle says, "one divines to belong to man's true Good." Philosophy, in the Greek view, should be the art as well as the science of good life; and hedonistic philosophy would seem a bungling and uncertain art of pleasure, as pleasure is ordinarily conceived. Nay, it would even be found that the habit of philosophical reflection often operated adversely to the attainment of this end, by developing the thinker's self-consciousness, so as to disturb that normal relation to external objects on which the zest of ordinary enjoyment depends. Hence we find that later thinkers of the Cyrenaic school felt themselves compelled to change their fundamental notion; thus Theodorus defined the good as "gladness" ([Greek: chara]) depending on wisdom, as distinct from mere pleasure, while Hegesias proclaimed that happiness was unattainable, and that the chief function of wisdom was to render life painless by producing indifference to all things that give pleasure. But by such changes their system lost the support that it had had in the pleasure-seeking tendencies of ordinary men. It was clear that if philosophic hedonism was to be established on a broad and firm basis, it must in its notion of good combine what the plain man naturally sought with what philosophy could plausibly offer. Such a combination was effected, with some little violence, by Epicurus; whose system with all its defects showed a remarkable power of standing the test of time, as it attracted the unqualified adhesion of generation after generation of disciples for a period of some six centuries.

Epicurus.

In the fundamental principle of his philosophy Epicurus is not original. Aristippus (cf. also Plato in the _Protagoras_ and Eudoxus) had already maintained that pleasure is the sole ultimate good, and pain the sole evil; that no pleasure is to be rejected except for its painful consequences, and no pain to be chosen except as a means to greater pleasure; that the stringency of all laws and customs depends solely on the legal and social penalties attached to their violation; that, in short, all virtuous conduct and all speculative activity are empty and useless, except as contributing to the pleasantness of the agent's life. And Epicurus assures us that he means by pleasure what plain men mean by it; and that if the gratifications of appetite and sense are discarded, the notion is emptied of its significance. So far the system would seem to suit the inclinations of the most thorough-going voluptuary. The originality of Epicurus lay in his theory that the highest point of pleasure, whether in body or mind, is to be attained by the mere removal of pain or disturbance, after which pleasure admits of variation only and not of augmentation; that therefore the utmost gratification of which the body is capable may be provided by the simplest means, and that "natural wealth" is no more than any man can earn. When further he teaches that the attainment of happiness depends almost entirely upon insight and right calculation, fortune having very little to do with it; that the pleasures and pains of the mind are far more important than those of the body, owing to the accumulation of feeling caused by memory and anticipation; and that an indispensable condition of mental happiness lies in relieving the mind of all superstitions, which can be effected only by a thorough knowledge of the physical universe--he introduces an ample area for the exercise of the philosophic intellect. So again, in the stress that he lays on the misery which the most secret wrong-doing must necessarily cause from the perpetual fear of discovery, and in his exuberant exaltation of the value of disinterested friendship, he shows a sincere, though not completely successful, effort to avoid the offence that consistent egoistic hedonism is apt to give to ordinary human feeling. As regards friendship, Epicurus was a man of peculiarly unexclusive sympathies.[12] The genial fellowship of the philosophic community that he collected in his garden remained a striking feature in the traditions of his school; and certainly the ideal which Stoics and Epicureans equally cherished of a brotherhood of sages was most easily realized on the Epicurean plan of withdrawing from political and dialectical conflict to simple living and serene leisure, in imitation of the gods apart from the fortuitous concourse of atoms that we call a world. No doubt it was rather the practical than the theoretical side of Epicureanism which gave it so strong a hold on succeeding generations.

Later Greek philosophy. Stoicism in Rome.

The two systems that have just been described were those that most prominently attracted the attention of the ancient world, so far as it was directed to ethics, from their almost simultaneous origin to the end of the 2nd century A.D., when Stoicism almost vanishes from our view. But side by side with them the schools of Plato and Aristotle still maintained a continuity of tradition, and a more or less vigorous life; and philosophy, as a recognized element of Graeco-Roman culture, was understood to be divided among these four branches. The internal history, however, of the four schools was very different. We find no development worthy of notice in Aristotelian ethics (see PERIPATETICS). The Epicureans, again, from their unquestioning acceptance of the "dogmas"[13] of their founder, almost deserve to be called a sect rather than a school. On the other hand, the changes in Stoicism are very noteworthy; and it is the more easy to trace them, as the only original writings of this school which we possess are those of the later Roman Stoics. These changes may be attributed partly to the natural inner development of the system, partly to the reaction of the Roman mind on the essentially Greek doctrine which it received,--a reaction all the more inevitable from the very affinity between the Stoic sage and the ancient Roman ideal of manliness. It was natural that the earlier Stoics should be chiefly occupied with delineating the inner and outer characteristics of ideal wisdom and virtue, and that the gap between the ideal sage and the actual philosopher, though never ignored, should yet be somewhat overlooked. But when the question "What is man's good?" had been answered by an exposition of perfect wisdom, the practical question "How may a man emerge from the folly of the world, and get on the way towards wisdom?" naturally attracted attention; and the preponderance of moral over scientific interest, which was characteristic of the Roman mind, gave this question especial prominence. The sense of the gap between theory and fact gives to the religious element of Stoicism a new force; the soul, conscious of its weakness, leans on the thought of God, and in the philosopher's attitude towards external events, pious resignation preponderates over self-poised indifference; the old self-reliance of the reason, looking down on man's natural life as a mere field for its exercise, makes room for a positive aversion to the flesh as an alien element imprisoning the spirit; the body has come to be a "corpse which the soul sustains,"[14] and life a "sojourn in a strange land";[15] in short, the ethical idealism of Zeno has begun to borrow from the metaphysical idealism of Plato.

History of Plato's school.

In no one of these schools was the outward coherence of tradition so much strained by inner changes as it was in Plato's. The alterations, however, in the metaphysical position of the Academics had little effect on their ethical teaching, as, even during the period of Scepticism, they appear to have presented as probable the same general view of human good which Antiochus afterwards dogmatically announced as a revival of the common doctrine of Plato and Aristotle. And during the period of a century and a half between Antiochus and Plutarch, we may suppose the school to have maintained the old controversy with Stoicism on much the same ground, accepting the formula of "life according to nature," but demanding that the "good" of man should refer to his nature as a whole, the good of his rational part being the chief element, and always preferable in case of conflict, but yet not absolutely his sole good. In Plutarch, however, we see the same tendencies of change that we have noticed in later Stoicism. The conception of a normal harmony between the higher and lower elements of human life has begun to be disturbed, and the side of Plato's teaching that deals with the inevitable imperfections of the world of concrete experience becomes again prominent. For example, we find Plutarch amplifying the suggestion in Plato's latest treatise (the _Laws_) that this imperfection is due to a bad world-soul that strives against the good,--a suggestion which is alien to the general tenor of Plato's doctrine, and had consequently been unnoticed during the intervening centuries. We observe, again, the value that Plutarch attaches, not merely to the sustainment and consolation of rational religion, but to the supernatural communications vouchsafed by the divinity to certain human beings in dreams, through oracles, or by special warnings, like those of the genius of Socrates. For these flashes of intuition, he holds, the soul should be prepared by tranquil repose and the subjugation of sensuality through abstinence. The same ascetic effort to attain by aloofness from the body a pure receptivity for supernatural influences, is exhibited in Neo-Pythagoreanism. But the general tendency that we are noting did not find its full expression in a reasoned system until we come to the Egyptian Plotinus.

Neoplatonism.

The system of Plotinus (205-270 A.D.) is a striking development of that element of Platonism which has had most fascination for the medieval and even for the modern mind, but which had almost vanished out of sight in the controversies of the post-Aristotelian schools. At the same time the differences are the more noteworthy from the reverent adhesion which the Neoplatonists always maintain to Plato. Plato identified good with the real essence of things; with that in them which is definitely conceivable and knowable. It belongs to this view to regard the imperfection of things as devoid of real being, and so incapable of being definitely thought or known; accordingly, we find that Plato has no technical term for that in the concrete sensible world which hinders it from perfectly expressing the abstract ideal world, and which in Aristotle's system is distinguished as absolutely formless matter ([Greek: hule]). And so, when we pass from the ontology to the ethics of Platonism, we find that, though the highest life is only to be realized by turning away from concrete human affairs and their material environment, still the sensible world is not yet an object of positive moral aversion; it is rather something which the philosopher is seriously concerned to make as harmonious, good and beautiful as possible. But in Neoplatonism the inferiority of the condition in which the embodied human soul finds itself is more intensely and painfully felt; hence an express recognition of formless matter ([Greek: hule]) as the "first evil," from which is derived the "second evil," body ([Greek: soma]), to whose influence all the evil in the soul's existence is due. Accordingly the ethics of Plotinus represent, we may say, the moral idealism of the Stoics cut loose from nature. The only good of man is the pure existence of the soul, which in itself, apart from the contagion of the body, is perfectly free from error or defect; if only it can be restored to the untrammelled activity of its original being, nothing external, nothing bodily, can positively impair its perfect welfare. It is only the lowest form of virtue--the "civic" virtue of Plato's _Republic_--that is employed in regulating those animal impulses whose presence in the soul is due to its mixture with the body; higher or philosophic wisdom, temperance, courage and justice are essentially purifications from this contagion; until finally the highest mode of goodness is reached, in which the soul has no community with the body, and is entirely turned towards reason. It should be observed that Plotinus himself is still too Platonic to hold that the absolute mortification of natural bodily appetites is required for purifying the soul; but this ascetic inference was drawn to the fullest extent by his disciple Porphyry.

There is, however, a yet higher point to be reached in the upward ascent of the Neoplatonist from matter; and here the divergence of Plotinus from Platonic idealism is none the less striking, because it is a _bona fide_ result of reverent reflection on Plato's teaching. The cardinal assumption of Plato's metaphysic is, that the real is definitely thinkable and knowable in proportion as it is real; so that the further the mind advances in abstraction from sensible particulars and apprehension of real being, the more definite and clear its thought becomes. Plotinus, however, urges that, as all thought involves difference or duality of some kind, it cannot be the primary fact in the universe, what we call God. He must be an essential unity prior to this duality, a Being wholly without difference or determination; and, accordingly, the highest mode of human existence, in which the soul apprehends this absolute, must be one in which all definite thought is transcended, and all consciousness of self lost in the absorbing ecstasy. Porphyry tells us that his master Plotinus attained the highest state four times during the six years which he spent with him.

Neoplatonism, originally Alexandrine, is often regarded as Hellenistic rather than Hellenic, a product of the mingling of Greek with Oriental civilization. But however Oriental may have been the cast of mind that welcomed this theosophic asceticism, the forms of thought by which these views were philosophically reached are essentially Greek; and it is by a thoroughly intelligible process of natural development, in which the intensification of the moral consciousness represented by Stoicism plays an important part, that the Hellenic pursuit of knowledge culminates in a preparation for ecstasy, and the Hellenic idealization of man's natural life ends in a settled antipathy to the body and its works. At the same time we ought not to overlook the affinities between the doctrine of Plotinus and that remarkable combination of Greek and Hebrew thought which Philo Judaeus had expounded two centuries before; nor the fact that Neoplatonism was developed in conscious antagonism to the new religion which had spread from Judea, and was already threatening the conquest of the Graeco-Roman world, and also to the Gnostic systems (see GNOSTICISM); nor, finally, that it furnished the chief theoretical support in the last desperate struggle that was made under Julian to retain the old polytheistic worship.

B. _Christianity and Medieval Ethics._--In the present article we are not concerned with the origin of the Christian religion, nor with its outward history. Nor have we to consider the special doctrines that have formed the bond of union of the Christian communities except in their ethical aspect, their bearing on the systematization of human aims and activities. This aspect, however, must necessarily be prominent in discussing Christianity, which cannot be adequately treated merely as a system of theological beliefs divinely revealed, and special observances divinely sanctioned; for it claims to regulate the whole man, in all departments of his existence. It was not till the 4th century A.D. that the first attempt was made to offer a systematic exposition of Christian morality; and nine centuries more had passed away before a genuinely philosophic intellect, trained by a full study of Aristotle, undertook to give complete scientific form to the ethical doctrine of the Catholic church. Before, however, we take a brief survey of the progress of systematic ethics from Ambrose to Thomas Aquinas, it may be well to examine the chief features of the new moral consciousness that had spread through Graeco-Roman civilization, and was awaiting philosophic synthesis. It will be convenient to consider first the new _form_ or universal characteristics of Christian morality, and afterwards to note the chief points in the _matter_ or particulars of duty and virtue which received development or emphasis from the new religion.

Christian and Jewish "law of God."

The first point to be noticed is the new conception of morality as the positive law of a theocratic community possessing a written code imposed by divine revelation, and sanctioned by divine promises and threatenings. It is true that we find in ancient thought, from Socrates downwards, the notion of a law of God, eternal and immutable, partly expressed and partly obscured by the shifting codes and customs of actual human societies. But the sanctions of this law were vaguely and, for the most part, feebly imagined; its principles were essentially unwritten, and thus referred not to the external will of an Almighty Being who claimed unquestioning submission, but rather to the reason that gods and men shared, by the exercise of which alone they could be adequately known and defined. Hence, even if the notion of law had been more prominent than it was in ancient ethical thought, it could never have led to a juridical, as distinct from a philosophical, treatment of morality. In Christianity, on the other hand, we early find that the method of moralists determining right conduct is to a great extent analogous to that of juris-consults interpreting a code. It is assumed that divine commands have been implicitly given for all occasions of life, and that they are to be ascertained in particular cases by interpretation of the general rules obtained from texts of scripture, and by inference from scriptural examples. This juridical method descended naturally from the Jewish theocracy, of which Christendom was a universalization. Moral insight, in the view of the most thoughtful Jews of the age immediately preceding Christianity, was conceived as knowledge of a divine code, emanating from an authority external to human reason which had only the function of interpreting and applying its rules. This law was derived partly from Moses, partly from the utterances of the later prophets, partly from oral tradition and from the commentaries and supplementary maxims of generations of students. Christianity inherited the notion of a written divine code acknowledged as such by the "true Israel"--now potentially including the whole of mankind, or at least the chosen of all nations,--on the sincere acceptance of which the Christian's share of the divine promises to Israel depended. And though the ceremonial part of the old Hebrew code was altogether rejected, and with it all the supplementary jurisprudence resting on tradition and erudite commentary, still God's law was believed to be contained in the sacred books of the Jews, supplemented by the teaching of Christ and his apostles. By the recognition of this law the church was constituted as an ordered community, essentially distinct from the State; the distinction between the two was emphasized by the withdrawal of the early Christians from civic life, to avoid the performance of idolatrous ceremonies imposed as official expressions of loyalty, and by the persecutions which they had to endure, when the spread of an association apparently so hostile to the framework of ancient society had at length alarmed the imperial government. Nor was the distinction obliterated by the recognition of Christianity as the state religion under Constantine.

Thus the jural form in which morality was conceived only emphasized the fundamental difference between it and the laws of the state. The ultimate sanctions of the moral code were the infinite rewards and punishments awaiting the immortal soul hereafter; but the church early felt the necessity of withdrawing the privileges of membership from apostates and allowing them to be gradually regained only by a solemn ceremonial expressive of repentance, protracted through several years. This formal and regulated "penitence" was extended from apostasy to other grave--or, as they were subsequently called, "deadly"--sins; while for minor offences all Christians were called upon to express contrition by fasting and abstinence from ordinarily permitted pleasures, as well as verbally in public and private devotions. "Excommunication" and "penance" thus came to be temporal ecclesiastical sanctions of the moral law. As the graduation of these sanctions naturally became more minute, a correspondingly detailed classification of offences was rendered necessary, and thus a system of ecclesiastical jurisprudence was gradually produced, somewhat analogous to that of Judaism. At the same time this tendency to make prominent a scheme of external duties has always been counteracted in Christianity by the remembrance of its original antithesis to Jewish legalism. We find that this antithesis, as exaggerated by some of the Gnostic sects of the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D., led, not merely to theoretical antinomianism, but even (if the charges of their orthodox opponents are not entirely to be discredited) to gross immorality of conduct. A similar tendency has shown itself at other periods of church history. And though such antinomianism has always been sternly repudiated by the moral consciousness of Christendom, it has never been forgotten that "inwardness," rightness of heart or spirit, is the pre-eminent characteristic of Christian goodness. It must not, of course, be supposed that the need of something more than mere fulfilment of external duty was ignored even by the later Judaism. Rabbinic erudition could not forget the repression of vicious desires in the tenth commandment, the stress laid in Deuteronomy on the necessity of service to God, or the inculcation by later prophets of humility and faith. "The real and only Pharisee," says the Talmud, "is he who does the will of his Father because he loves Him." But it remains true that the contrast with the "righteousness of the scribes and pharisees" has always served to mark the requirement of "inwardness" as a distinctive feature of the Christian code--an inwardness not merely negative, tending to the repression of vicious desires as well as vicious acts, but also involving a positive rectitude of the inner state of the soul.

Christian and Pagan inwardness.

Faith.

In this aspect Christianity invites comparison with Stoicism, and indeed with pagan ethical philosophy generally, if we except the hedonistic schools. Rightness of purpose, preference of virtue for its own sake, suppression of vicious desires, were made essential points by the Aristotelians, who attached the most importance to outward circumstances in their view of virtue, no less than by the Stoics, to whom all outward things were indifferent. The fundamental differences between pagan and Christian ethics depend not on any difference in the value set on rightness of heart, but on different views of the essential form or conditions of this inward rightness. In neither case is it presented purely and simply as moral rectitude. By the pagan philosophers it was always conceived under the form of Knowledge or Wisdom, it being inconceivable to all the schools sprung from Socrates that a man could truly know his own good and yet deliberately choose anything else. This knowledge, as Aristotle held, might be permanently precluded by vicious habits, or temporarily obliterated by passion, but if present in the mind it must produce rightness of purpose. Or even if it were held with some of the Stoics that true wisdom was out of the reach of the best men actually living, it none the less remained the ideal condition of perfect human life. By Christian teachers, on the other hand, the inner springs of good conduct were generally conceived as Faith and Love. Of these notions the former has a somewhat complex ethical import; it seems to blend several elements differently prominent in different minds. Its simplest and commonest meaning is that emphasized in the contrast of "faith" with "sight"; where it signifies belief in the invisible divine order represented by the church, in the actuality of the law, the threats, the promises of God, in spite of all the influences in man's natural life that tend to obscure this belief. Out of this contrast there ultimately grew an essentially different opposition between faith and knowledge or reason, according to which the theological basis of ethics was contrasted with the philosophical; the theologians maintaining sometimes that the divine law is essentially arbitrary, the expression of will, not reason; more frequently that its reasonableness is inscrutable, and that actual human reason should confine itself to examining the credentials of God's messengers, and not the message itself. But in early Christianity this latter antithesis was as yet undeveloped; faith means simply force in clinging to moral and religious conviction, whatever their rational grounds may be; this force, in the Christian consciousness, being inseparably bound up with personal loyalty and trust towards Christ, the leader in the battle with evil, the ruler of the kingdom to be realized. So far, however, there is no ethical difference between Christian faith and that of Judaism, or its later imitation, Mahommedanism; except that the personal affection of loyal trust is peculiarly stirred by the blending of human and divine natures in Christ, and the rule of duty impressively taught by the manifestation of his perfect life. A more distinctively Christian, and a more deeply moral, significance is given to the notion in the antithesis of "faith" and "works." Here faith means more than loyal acceptance of the divine law and reverent trust in the lawgiver; it implies a consciousness, at once continually present and continually transcended, of the radical imperfection of all human obedience to the law, and at the same time of the irremissible condemnation which this imperfection entails. The Stoic doctrine of the worthlessness of ordinary human virtue, and the stern paradox that all offenders are equally, in so far as all are absolutely, guilty, find their counterparts in Christianity; but the latter (maintaining this ideal severity in the moral standard, with an emotional consciousness of what is involved in it quite unlike that of the Stoic) overcomes its practical exclusiveness through faith. This faith, again, may be conceived in two modes, essentially distinct though usually combined. In one view it gives the believer strength to attain, by God's supernatural aid or "grace," a goodness of which he is naturally incapable; in the other view it gives him an assurance that, though he knows himself a sinner deserving of utter condemnation, a perfectly just God still regards him with favour on account of the perfect services and suffering of Christ. Of these views the former is the more catholic, more universally present in the Christian consciousness; the latter more deeply penetrates the mystery of the Atonement, as expounded in the Pauline epistles.

Love.

Purity.

But faith, however understood, is rather an indispensable pre-requisite than the essential motive principle of Christian good conduct. This motive is supplied by the other central notion, love. On love depends the "fulfilling of the law," and the sole moral value of Christian duty--that is, on love to God, in the first place, which in its fullest development must spring from Christian faith; and, secondly, love to all mankind, as the objects of divine love and sharers in the humanity ennobled by the incarnation. This derivative philanthropy characterizes the spirit in which all Christian performance of social duty is to be done; loving devotion to God being the fundamental attitude of mind that is to be maintained throughout the whole of the Christian's life. But further, as regards abstinence from unlawful acts and desires prompting to them, we have to notice another form in which the inwardness of Christian morality manifests itself, which, though less distinctive, should yet receive attention in any comparison of Christian ethics with the view of Graeco-Roman philosophy. The profound horror with which the Christian's conception of a suffering as well as an avenging divinity tended to make him regard all condemnable acts was tinged with a sentiment which we may perhaps describe as a ceremonial aversion moralized--the aversion, that is, to foulness or impurity. In Judaism, as in other, especially Oriental, religions, the natural dislike of material defilement has been elevated into a religious sentiment, and made to support a complicated system of quasi-sanitary abstinences and ceremonial purifications; then, as the ethical element predominated in the Jewish religion, a moral symbolism was felt to reside in the ceremonial code, and thus aversion to impurity came to be a common form of the ethico-religious sentiment. Then, when Christianity threw off the Mosaic ritual, this religious sense of purity was left with no other sphere besides morality; while, from its highly idealized character, it was peculiarly well adapted for that repression of vicious desires which Christianity claimed as its special function.

Distinctive particulars of Christian morality.

The distinctive features of Christian ethics are obedience, unworldliness, benevolence, purity and humility. They are naturally connected with the more general characteristics just stated; though many of them may also be referred directly to the example and precepts of Christ, and in several cases they are clearly due to both causes, inseparably combined.

1. We may notice, in the first place, that the conception of morality as a code which, if not in itself arbitrary, is yet to be accepted by men with unquestioning submission, tends naturally to bring into prominence the virtue of _obedience to authority_; just as the philosophic view of goodness as the realization of reason gives a special value to _self-determination_ and independence (as we see more clearly in the post-Aristotelian schools where ethics is distinctly separated from politics).

2. Again, the opposition between the natural world and the spiritual order into which the Christian has been born anew led not merely to a contempt equal to that of the Stoic for wealth, fame, power, and other objects of worldly pursuit, but also, for some time at least, to a comparative depreciation of the domestic and civic relations of the natural man. This tendency was exhibited most simply and generally in the earliest period of the church's history. In the view of primitive Christians, ordinary human society was a world temporarily surrendered to Satanic rule, over which a swift and sudden destruction was impending; in such a world the little band who were gathered in the ark of the church could have no part or lot,--the only attitude they could maintain was that of passive alienation. On the other hand, it was difficult practically to realize this alienation, and a keen sense of this difficulty induced the same hostility to the body as a clog and hindrance, that we find to some extent in Plato, but more fully developed in Neoplatonism, Neopythagoreanism, and other products of the mingling of Greek with Oriental thought. This feeling is exhibited in the value set on fasting in the Christian church from the earliest times, and in an extreme form in the self-torments of later monasticism; while both tendencies, anti-worldliness and anti-sensualism, seem to have combined in causing the preference of celibacy over marriage which is common to most early Christian writers.[16] Patriotism, again, and the sense of civic duty, the most elevated of all social sentiments in the Graeco-Roman civilization, tended, under the influence of Christianity, either to expand itself into universal philanthropy, or to concentrate itself on the ecclesiastical community. "We recognize one commonwealth, the world," says Tertullian; "we know," says Origen, "that we have a fatherland founded by the word of God." We might further derive from the general spirit of Christian unworldliness that repudiation of the secular modes of conflict, even in a righteous cause, which substituted a passive patience and endurance for the old pagan virtue of courage, in which the active element was prominent. Here, however, we clearly trace the influence of Christ's express prohibition of violent resistance to violence, and his inculcation, by example and precept, of a love that was to conquer even natural resentment. An extreme result of this influence is shown in Tertullian's view, that no Christian could properly hold the office of a secular magistrate in which he would have to doom to death, chains, imprisonment; but even more sober writers, such as Ambrose, extend Christian passivity so far as to preclude self-defence even against a murderous assault. The common sense of Christendom gradually shook off these extravagances; but the reluctance to shed blood lingered long, and was hardly extinguished even by the growing horror of heresy. We have a curious relic of this in the later times of ecclesiastical persecution, when the heretic was doomed to the stake that he might be punished in some manner "short of bloodshed."[17]

Benevolence.

3. It is, however, in the impulse given to practical beneficence in all its forms, by the exaltation of love as the root of all virtues, that the most important influence of Christianity on the particulars of civilized morality is to be found; although the exact amount of this influence is here somewhat difficult to ascertain, since it merely carries further a development traceable in the history of pagan morality. This development appears when we compare the different post-Socratic systems of ethics. In Plato's exposition of the different virtues there is no mention whatever of benevolence, although his writings show a keen sense of the importance of friendship as an element of philosophic life, especially of the intense personal affection naturally arising between master and disciple. Aristotle goes somewhat further in recognizing the moral value of friendship [Greek: (philia)]; and though he considers that in its highest form it can be realized only by the fellowship of the wise and good, he yet extends the notion so as to include the domestic affections, and takes notice of the importance of mutual kindness in binding together all human societies. Still in his formal statement of the different virtues, positive beneficence is discernible only under the notion of "liberality," in which form its excellence is hardly distinguished from that of graceful profusion in self-regarding expenditure (_Nic. Eth_. iv. 1). Cicero, on the other hand, in his paraphrase of a Stoic treatise on external duties (_De officiis_), ranks the rendering of positive services to other men as a chief department of social duty; and the Stoics generally recognized the universal fellowship and natural mutual claims of human beings as such. Indeed, this recognition in later Stoicism is sometimes expressed with so much warmth of feeling as to be hardly distinguishable from Christian philanthropy. Nor was this regard for humanity merely a doctrine of the school. Partly through the influence of Stoic and other Greek philosophy, partly from the natural expansion of human sympathies, the legislation of the Empire, during the first three centuries, shows a steady development in the direction of natural justice and humanity; and some similar progress may be traced in the general tone of moral opinion. Still the utmost point that this development reached fell considerably short of the standard of Christian charity. Without dwelling on the immense impetus given to the practice of social duty generally by the religion that made beneficence a form of divine service, and identified "piety" with "pity," we have to put down as definite changes introduced by Christianity--(1) the severe condemnation and final suppression of the practice of exposing infants; (2) effective abhorrence of the barbarism of gladiatorial combats; (3) immediate moral mitigation of slavery, and a strong encouragement of emancipation; (4) great extension of the eleemosynary provision made for the sick and the poor. As regards almsgiving, however--the importance of which has caused it to usurp, in modern languages, the general name of "charity"--it ought to be observed that Christianity merely universalized a duty which has always been inculcated by Judaism, within the limits of the chosen people.

4. The same may be said of the stricter regulation which Christianity enforced on the relations of the sexes; except so far as the prohibition of divorce is concerned, and the stress laid on "purity of heart" as contrasted with merely outward chastity.

5. Even the peculiarly Christian virtue of humility, which presents so striking a contrast to the Greek "highmindedness," was to some extent anticipated in the Rabbinic teaching. Its far greater prominence under the new dispensation may be partly referred to the express teaching and example of Christ; partly, in so far as the virtue is manifested in the renunciation of external rank and dignity, or the glory of merely secular gifts and acquirements, it is one aspect of the unworldliness which we have already noticed; while the deeper humility that represses the claim of personal merit even in the saint belongs to the strict self-examination, the continual sense of imperfection, the utter reliance on strength not his own, which characterize the inner moral life of the Christian. Humility in this latter sense, "before God," is an essential condition of all truly Christian goodness.

We have, however, yet to notice the enlargement of the sphere of ethics due to its close connexion with theology; for while this added religious force and sanction to ordinary moral obligations, it equally tended to impart a moral aspect to religious belief and worship. "Duty to God"--as distinct from duty to man--had not been altogether unrecognized by pagan moralists; but the rather dubious relations of even the more orthodox philosophy to the established polytheism had generally prevented them from laying much stress upon it. Again,--just as the Stoics held wisdom to be indispensable to real rectitude of conduct, while at the same time they included under the notion of wisdom a grasp of physical as well as ethical truth,--so the similar emphasis laid on inwardness in Christian ethics caused orthodoxy or correctness of religious belief to be regarded as essential to goodness, and heresy as the most fatal of vices, corrupting as it did the very springs of Christian life. To the philosophers (with the single exception of Plato), however, convinced as they were that the multitude must necessarily miss true well-being through their folly and ignorance, it could never occur to guard against these evils by any other method than that of providing philosophic instruction for the few; whereas the Christian clergy, whose function it was to offer truth and eternal life to all mankind, naturally regarded theological misbelief as insidious preventible contagion. Indeed, their sense of its deadliness was so keen that, when they were at length able to control the secular administration, they rapidly overcame their aversion to bloodshed, and initiated that long series of religious persecutions to which we find no parallel in the pre-Christian civilization of Europe. It was not that Christian writers did not feel the difficulty of attributing criminality to sincere ignorance or error. But the difficulty is not really peculiar to theology; and the theologians usually got over it (as some philosophers had surmounted a similar perplexity in the region of ethics proper) by supposing some latent or antecedent voluntary sin, of which the apparently involuntary heresy was the fearful fruit.

Lastly, we must observe that, in proportion as the legal conception of morality as a code of which the violation deserves supernatural punishment predominated over the philosophic view of ethics as the method for attaining natural felicity, the question of man's freedom of will to obey the law necessarily became prominent. At the same time it cannot be broadly said that Christianity took a decisive side in the metaphysical controversy on free-will and necessity; since, just as in Greek philosophy the need of maintaining freedom as the ground of responsibility clashes with the conviction that no one deliberately chooses his own harm, so in Christian ethics it clashes with the attribution of all true human virtue to supernatural grace, as well as with the belief in divine foreknowledge. All we can say is that in the development of Christian thought the conflict of conceptions was far more profoundly felt, and far more serious efforts were made to evade or transcend it.

Development of opinion in early Christianity.

Augustine.

In the preceding account of Christian morality, it has been already indicated that the characteristics delineated did not all exhibit themselves simultaneously to the same extent, or with perfect uniformity throughout the church. Changes in the external condition of Christianity, the different degrees of civilization in the societies of which it was the dominant religion, and the natural process of internal development, continually brought different features into prominence; while again, the important antagonisms of opinion within Christendom frequently involved ethical issues--even in the Eastern Church--until in the 4th century it began to be absorbed in the labour of a dogmatic construction. Thus, for example, the anti-secular tendencies of the new creed, to which Tertullian (160-220) gave violent and rigid expression, were exaggerated in the Montanist heresy which he ultimately joined; on the other hand, Clement of Alexandria, in opposition to the general tone of his age, maintained the value of pagan philosophy for the development of Christian faith into true knowledge (Gnosis), and the value of the natural development of man through marriage for the normal perfecting of the Christian life. So again, there is a marked difference between the writers before Augustine and those that succeeded him in all that concerns the internal conditions of Christian morality. By Justin and other apologists the need of redemption, faith, grace is indeed recognized, but the theological system depending on these notions is not sufficiently developed[18] to come into even apparent antagonism with the freedom of the will. Christianity is for the most part conceived as essentially a proclamation through the Divine Word, to immortal beings gifted with free choice, of the true code of conduct sanctioned by eternal rewards and punishments. This legalism contrasts strikingly with the efforts of pagan philosophy to exhibit virtue as its own reward; and the contrast is triumphantly pointed out by more than one early Christian writer. Lactantius (_circa_ 300 A.D.), for example, roundly declares that Plato and Aristotle, referring everything to this earthly life, "made virtue mere folly"; though himself maintaining, with pardonable inconsistency, that man's highest good did not consist in mere pleasure, but in the consciousness of the filial relation of the soul to God. It is plain, however, that on this external legalistic view of duty it was impossible to maintain a difference in kind between Christian and pagan morality; the philosopher's conformity to the rules of chastity and beneficence, so far as it went, was indistinguishable from the saint's. But when this inference was developed in the teaching of Pelagius, it was repudiated as heretical by the church, under the powerful leadership of Augustine (354-430); and the doctrine of man's incapacity to obey God's law by his unaided moral energy was pressed to a point at which it was difficult to reconcile it with the freedom of the will. Augustine is fully aware of the theoretical indispensability of maintaining Free Will, from its logical connexion with human responsibility and divine justice; but he considers that these latter points are sufficiently secured if actual freedom of choice between good and evil is allowed in the single case of our progenitor Adam.[19] For since the _natura seminalis_ from which all men were to arise already existed in Adam, in his voluntary preference of self to God, humanity chose evil once for all; for which ante-natal guilt all men are justly condemned to perpetual absolute sinfulness and consequent punishment, unless they are elected by God's unmerited grace to share the benefits of Christ's redemption. Without this grace it is impossible for man to obey the "first greatest commandment" of love to God; and, this unfulfilled, he is guilty of the whole law, and is only free to choose between degrees of sin; his apparent external virtues have no moral value, since inner rightness of intention is wanting. "All that is not of faith is of sin"; and faith and love are mutually involved and inseparable; faith springs from the divinely imparted germ of love, which in its turn is developed by faith to its full strength, while from both united springs hope, joyful yearning towards ultimate perfect fruition of the object of love. These three Augustine (after St Paul) regards as the three essential elements of Christian virtue; along with these he recognizes the fourfold division of virtue into prudence, temperance, courage and justice according to their traditional interpretation; but he explains these virtues to be in their true natures only the same love to God in different aspects or exercises. The uncompromising mysticism of this view may be at once compared and contrasted with the philosophical severity of Stoicism. Love of God in the former holds the same absolute and unique position as the sole element of moral worth in human action, which, as we have seen, was occupied by knowledge of Good in the latter; and we may carry the parallel further by observing that in neither case is this severity in the abstract estimate of goodness necessarily connected with extreme rigidity in practical precepts. Indeed, an important part of Augustine's work as a moralist lies in the reconciliation which he laboured to effect between the anti-worldly spirit of Christianity and the necessities of secular civilization. For example, we find him arguing for the legitimacy of judicial punishments and military service against an over-literal interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount; and he took an important part in giving currency to the distinction between evangelical "counsels" and "commands," and so defending the life of marriage and temperate enjoyment of natural good against the attacks of the more extravagant advocate of celibacy and self-abnegation; although he fully admitted the superiority of the latter method of avoiding the contamination of sin.

Ambrose.

The attempt to Christianize the old Platonic list of virtues, which we have noticed in Augustine's system, was probably due to the influence of his master Ambrose, in whose treatise _De officiis ministrorum_ we find for the first time an exposition of Christian duty systematized on a plan borrowed from a pre-Christian moralist. It is interesting to compare Ambrose's account of what subsequently came to be known as the "four cardinal virtues" with the corresponding delineations in Cicero's[20] _De officiis_ which served the bishop as a model. Christian Wisdom, so far as it is speculative, is of course primarily theological; it has God, as the highest truth, for its chief object, and is therefore necessarily grounded on faith. Christian Fortitude is essentially firmness in withstanding the seductions of good and evil fortune, resoluteness in the conflict perpetually waged against wickedness without carnal weapons--though Ambrose, with the Old Testament in his hand, will not quite relinquish the ordinary martial application of the term. "Temperantia" retains the meaning of "observance of due measure" in all conduct, which it had in Cicero's treatise; though its notion is partly modified by being blended with the newer virtue of humility. Finally in the exposition of Christian Justice the Stoic doctrine of the natural union of all human interests is elevated to the full height and intensity of evangelical philanthropy; the brethren are reminded that the earth was made by God a common possession of all, and are bidden to administer their means for the common benefit; Ambrose, we should observe, is thoroughly aware of the fundamental union of these different virtues in Christianity, though he does not, like Augustine, resolve them all into the one central affection of love of God.

Ecclesiastical morality in the "Dark Ages."

Under the influence of Ambrose and Augustine, the four cardinal virtues furnished a basis on which the systematic ethical theories of subsequent theologians were built. With them the triad of Christian graces, Faith, Hope and Love, and the seven gifts of the Spirit (Isaiah xi. 2) were often combined. In antithesis to this list, an enumeration of the "deadly sins" obtained currency. These were at first commonly reckoned as eight; but a preference for mystical numbers characteristic of medieval theologians finally reduced them to seven. The statement of them is variously given,--Pride, Avarice, Anger, Gluttony, Unchastity, are found in all the lists; the remaining two (or three) are variously selected from among Envy, Vainglory, and the rather singular sins Gloominess (_tristitia_) and Languid Indifference (_acidia_ or _acedia_, from Gr. [Greek: _akedia_]). These latter notions show plainly, what indeed might be inferred from a study of the list as a whole, that it represents the moral experience of the monastic life, which for some centuries was more and more unquestioningly regarded as in a peculiar sense "religious." It should be observed that the (also Augustinian) distinction between "deadly" and "venial" sins had a technical reference to the quasi-jural administration of ecclesiastical discipline, which grew gradually more organized as the spiritual power of the church established itself amid the ruins of the Western empire, and slowly developed into the theocracy that almost dominated Europe during the latter part of the middle ages. "Deadly" sins were those for which formal ecclesiastical penance was held to be necessary, in order to save the sinner from eternal damnation; for "venial" sins he might obtain forgiveness, through prayer, almsgiving, and the observance of the regular fasts. We find that "penitential books" for the use of the confessional, founded partly on traditional practice and partly on the express decrees of synods, come into general use in the 7th century. At first they are little more than mere inventories of sins, with their appropriate ecclesiastical punishments; gradually cases of conscience come to be discussed and decided, and the basis is laid for that system of casuistry which reached its full development in the 14th and 15th centuries. This ecclesiastical jurisprudence, and indeed the general relation of the church to the ruder races with which it had to deal during this period, necessarily tended to encourage a somewhat external view of morality. But a powerful counterpoise to this tendency was continually maintained by the fervid inwardness of Augustine, transmitted through Gregory the Great, Isidore of Seville, Alcuin, Hrabanus Maurus, and other writers of the philosophically barren period between the destruction of the Western empire and the rise of Scholasticism.

Medieval moral philosophy.

Scholastic ethics, like scholastic philosophy, attained its completest result in the teaching of Thomas Aquinas. But before giving a brief account of the ethical part of his system, it will be well to notice the salient points in the long and active discussion that led up to it. In the pantheistic system of Erigena (q.v.) (_circa_ 810-877) the chief philosophic element is supplied by the influence of Plato and Plotinus, transmitted through an unknown author of the 5th century, who assumed the name of Dionysius the Areopagite. Accordingly the ethical side of this doctrine has the same negative and ascetic character that we have observed in Neoplatonism. God is the only real Being; evil is essentially unreal and incognizable; the true aim of man's life is to return to perfect union with God out of the degraded material existence into which he has fallen. This doctrine found little acceptance among Erigena's contemporaries, and was certainly unorthodox enough to justify the condemnation which it subsequently received from Honorius III.; but its influence, together with that of the Pseudo-Dionysius, had a considerable share in developing the more emotional orthodox mysticism of the 12th and 13th centuries; and Neoplatonism (or Platonism received through a Neoplatonic tradition) remained a distinct element in medieval thought, though obscured in the period of mature scholasticism by the predominant influence of Aristotle. Passing on to Anselm (1033-1109), we observe that the Augustinian doctrine of original sin and man's absolute need of unmerited grace is retained in his theory of salvation; he also follows Augustine in defining freedom as the "power not to sin"; though in saying that Adam fell "spontaneously" and "by his free choice," though not "through its freedom," he has implicitly made the distinction that Peter the Lombard afterwards expressly draws between the freedom that is opposed to necessity and freedom from the slavery to sin. Anselm further softens the statement of Augustinian predestinationism by explaining that the freedom to will is not strictly lost even by fallen man; it is inherent in a rational nature, though since Adam's sin it only exists potentially in humanity, except where it is made actual by grace.

In a more real sense Abelard (1079-1142) tries to establish the connexion between man's ill desert and his free consent. He asserts that the inherited propensity to evil is not strictly a sin, which is only committed when the conscious self yields to vicious inclination. With a similar stress on the self-conscious side of moral action, he argues that rightness of conduct depends solely on the intention, at one time pushing this doctrine to the paradoxical assertion that all outward acts as such are indifferent.[21] In the same spirit, under the reviving influence of ancient philosophy (with which, however, he was imperfectly acquainted and the relation of which to Christianity he extravagantly misunderstood), he argues that the old Greek moralists, as inculcating a disinterested love of good--and so implicitly love of God as the highest good--were really nearer to Christianity than Judaic legalism was. Nay, further, he required that the Christian "love to God" should be regarded as pure only if purged from the self-regarding desire of the happiness which God gives. The general tendency of Abelard's thought was suspiciously regarded by contemporary orthodoxy;[22] and the over-subtlety of the last-mentioned distinction provoked vehement replies from orthodox mystics of the age. Thus, Hugo of St Victor (1077-1141) argues that all love is necessarily so far "interested" that it involves a desire for union with the beloved; and since eternal happiness consists in this union, it cannot truly be desired apart from God; while Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153) more elaborately distinguishes four stages by which the soul is gradually led from (1) merely self-regarding desire for God's aid in distress, to (2) love him for his loving-kindness to it, then also (3) for his absolute goodness, until (4) in rare moments this love for himself alone becomes the sole all-absorbing affection. This controversy Peter the Lombard endeavoured to compose by the scholastic art of taking distinctions, of which he was a master. In his treatise, _Libri sententiarum_, mainly based on Augustinian doctrine, we find a distinct softening of the antithesis between nature and grace and an anticipation of the union of Aristotelian and Christian thought, which was initiated by Albert the Great and completed by Thomas Aquinas.

Thomas Aquinas.

The moral philosophy of Aquinas is Aristotelianism with a Neoplatonic tinge, interpreted and supplemented by a view of Christian dogma derived chiefly from Augustine. All action or movement of all things irrational as well as rational is directed towards some end or good,--that is, really and ultimately towards God himself, the ground and first cause of all being, and unmoved principle of all movement. This universal though unconscious striving after God, since he is essentially intelligible, exhibits itself in its highest form in rational beings as a desire for knowledge of him; such knowledge, however, is beyond all ordinary exercise of reason, and may be only partially revealed to man here below. Thus the _summum bonum_ for man is objectively God, subjectively the happiness to be derived from loving vision of his perfections; although there is a lower kind of happiness to be realized here below in a normal human existence of virtue and friendship, with mind and body sound and whole and properly trained for the needs of life. The higher happiness is given to man by free grace of God; but it is given to those only whose heart is right, and as a reward of virtuous actions. Passing to consider what actions are virtuous, we first observe generally that the morality of an act is in part, but only in part, determined by its particular motive; it partly depends on its external object and circumstances, which render it either objectively in harmony with the "order of reason" or the reverse. In the classification of particular virtues and vices we can distinguish very clearly the elements supplied by the different teachings which Aquinas has imbibed. He follows Aristotle closely in dividing the "natural" virtues into intellectual and moral, giving his preference to the former class, and the intellectual again into speculative and practical; in distinguishing within the speculative class the "intellect" that is conversant with principles, the "science" that deduces conclusions, and the "wisdom" to which belongs the whole process of knowing the sublimest objects of knowledge; and in treating practical wisdom as inseparably connected with moral virtues, and therefore in a sense moral. His distinction among moral virtues of the justice that renders others their due from the virtues that control the appetites and passions of the agent himself, represents his interpretation of the _Nicomachean Ethics_; while his account of these latter virtues is a simple transcript of Aristotle's, just as his division of the non-rational element of the soul into "concupiscible" and "irascible" is the old Platonic one. In arranging his list, however, he defers to the established doctrine of the four cardinal virtues (derived from Plato and the Stoics through Cicero); accordingly, the Aristotelian ten have to stand under the higher genera of (1) the prudence which gives reasoned rules of conduct, (2) the temperance which restrains misleading desire, and (3) the fortitude that resists misleading fear of dangers or toils. But before these virtues are ranked the three "theologic" virtues, faith, love and hope, supernaturally "instilled" by God, and directly relating to him as their object. By faith we obtain that part of our knowledge of God which is beyond the range of mere natural wisdom or philosophy; naturally (e.g.), we can know God's existence, but not his trinity in unity, though philosophy is useful to defend this and other revealed verities; and it is essential for the soul's welfare that all articles of the Christian creed, however little they can be known by natural reason, should be apprehended through faith; the Christian who rejects a single article loses hold altogether of faith and of God. Faith is the substantial basis of all Christian morality, but without love--the essential form of all the Christian virtues--it is "formless" (_informis_). Christian love is conceived (after Augustine) as primarily love to God (beyond the natural yearning of the creature after its ultimate good), which expands into love towards all God's creatures as created by him, and so ultimately includes even self-love. But creatures are only to be loved in their purity as created by God; all that is bad in them must be an object of hatred till it is destroyed. In the classification of sins the Christian element predominates; still we find the Aristotelian vices of excess and defect, along with the modern divisions into "sins against God, neighbour and self," "mortal and venial sins," and so forth.

From the notion of sin--treated in its jural aspect--Aquinas passes naturally to the discussion of Law. The exposition of this conception presents to a great extent the same matter that was dealt with by the exposition of moral virtues, but in a different form; the prominence of which may perhaps be attributed to the growing influence of Roman jurisprudence, which attained in the 12th century so rapid and brilliant a revival in Italy. This side of Thomas's system is specially important, since it is just this blending of theological conceptions with the abstract theory of the later Roman law that gave the starting-point for independent ethical thought in the modern world. Under the general idea of law, defined as an "ordinance of reason for the common good, promulgated by him who has charge of the community," Thomas distinguishes (1) the eternal law or regulative reason of God which embraces all his creatures, rational and irrational; (2) "natural law," being that part of the eternal law that relates to rational creatures as such; (3) human law, which properly consists of more particular deductions from natural law particularized and adapted to the varying circumstances of actual communities; (4) divine law specially revealed to man. As regards natural law, he teaches that God has implanted in the human mind a knowledge of its immutable general principles; and not only knowledge, but a disposition, to which he applies the peculiar scholastic name _synderesis_,[23] that unerringly prompts to the realization of these principles in conduct, and protests against their violation. All acts of natural virtue are implicitly included within the scope of this law of nature; but in the application of its principles to particular cases--to which the term "conscience" should be restricted--man's judgment is liable to err, the light of nature being obscured and perverted by bad education and custom. Human law is required, not merely to determine the details for which natural law gives no intuitive guidance, but also to supply the force necessary for practically securing, among imperfect men, the observance of the most necessary rules of mutual behaviour. The rules of this law must be either deductions from principles of natural law, or determinations of particulars which it leaves indeterminate; a rule contrary to nature could not be valid as law at all. Human law, however, can deal with outward conduct alone, and natural law, as we have seen, is liable to be vague and obscure in particular applications. Neither natural nor human law, moreover, takes into account that supernatural happiness which is man's highest end. Hence they need to be supplemented by a special revelation of divine law. This revelation is distinguished into the law of the old covenant and the law of the gospel; the latter of these is productive as well as imperative since it carries with it the divine grace that makes its fulfilment possible. We have, however, to distinguish in the case of the gospel between (1) absolute commands and (2) "counsels," which latter recommend, without positively ordering the monastic life of poverty, celibacy and obedience as the best method of effectively turning the will from earthly to heavenly things.

Duns Scotus.

William of Occam.

But how far is man able to attain either natural or Christian perfection? This is the part of Thomas's system in which the cohesion of the different elements seems weakest. He is scarcely aware that his Aristotelianized Christianity inevitably combines two different difficulties in dealing with this question: first, the old pagan difficulty of reconciling the proposition that will is a rational desire always directed towards apparent good, with the freedom of choice between good and evil that the jural view of morality seems to require; and, secondly, the Christian difficulty of harmonizing this latter notion with the absolute dependence on divine grace which the religious consciousness affirms. The latter difficulty Thomas, like many of his predecessors, avoids by supposing a "co-operation" of free-will and grace, but the former he does not fully meet. It is against this part of his doctrines that the most important criticism, in ethics, of his rival Duns Scotus (c. 1266-1308) was directed. He urged that will could not be really free if it were bound to reason, as Thomas (after Aristotle) conceives it; a really free choice must be perfectly indeterminate between reason and unreason. Scotus consistently maintained that the divine will is similarly independent of reason, and that the divine ordering of the world is to be conceived as absolutely arbitrary. On this point he was followed by the acute intellect of William of Occam (d. c. 1347). This doctrine is obviously hostile to all reasoned morality; and in fact, notwithstanding the dialectical ability of Scotus and Occam, the work of Thomas remained indubitably the crowning result of the great constructive effort of medieval philosophy. The effort was, indeed, foredoomed to failure, since it attempted the impossible task of framing a coherent system out of the heterogeneous data furnished by Scripture, the fathers, the church and Aristotle--equally unquestioned, if not equally venerated, authorities. Whatever philosophic quality is to be found in the work of Thomas belongs to it in spite of, not in consequence of, its method. Still, its influence has been great and long-enduring,--in the Catholic Church primarily, but indirectly among Protestants, especially in England, since the famous first book of Hooker's _Ecclesiastical Polity_ is to a great extent taken from the _Summa theologiae_.

Medieval mysticism.

Partly in conscious antagonism to the schoolmen, yet with close affinity to the central ethico-theological doctrine which they read out of or into Aristotle, the mystical manner of thought continued to maintain itself in the church. Philosophically it rested upon Neoplatonism, but its development in strict connexion with Christian orthodoxy begins in the 12th century with Bernard of Clairvaux and Hugo of St Victor. It blended the Christian element of love with the ecstatic vision of Plotinus, sometimes giving the former a decided predominance. In its more moderate form, keeping wholly within the limits of ecclesiastical orthodoxy, this mysticism is represented by Bonaventura and Gerson; while it appears more independent and daringly constructive in the German Eckhart, advancing in some of his followers to open breach with the church, and even to practical immorality.

Casuistry.

The Jesuits.

In the brief account above given of the general ethical view of Thomas Aquinas no mention has been made of the detailed discussion of particular duties included in the _Summa theologiae_; in which, for the most part, an excellent combination of moral elevation with sobriety of judgment is shown, though on certain points the scholastic pedantry of definition and distinction is unfavourable to due delicacy of treatment. As the properly philosophic interest of scholasticism faded in the 14th and 15th centuries, the quasi-legal treatment of morality came again into prominence, borrowing a good deal of matter from Thomas and other schoolmen. One result of this was a marked development and systematization of casuistry. The best known _Summae casuum conscientiae_, compiled for the conduct of auricular confession, belong to the 14th and 15th centuries. The oldest, the _Astesana_, from Asti in Piedmont, is arranged as a kind of text-book of morality on a scholastic basis; later manuals are merely lists of questions and answers. It was inevitable that, in proportion as this casuistry assumed the character of a systematic penal jurisprudence, its precise determination of the limits between the prohibited and the allowable, with all doubtful points closely scrutinized and illustrated by fictitious cases, would have a tendency to weaken the moral sensibilities of ordinary minds; the greater the industry spent in deducing conclusions from the diverse authorities, the greater necessarily became the number of points on which doctors disagreed; and the central authority that might have repressed serious divergences was wanting in the period of moral weakness[24] that the church went through after the death of Boniface VIII. A plain man perplexed by such disagreements might naturally hold that any opinion maintained by a pious and orthodox writer must be a safe one to follow; and thus weak consciences were subtly tempted to seek the support of authority for some desired relaxation of a moral rule. It does not, however, appear that this danger assumed formidable proportions until after the Reformation; when, in the struggle made by the Catholic church to recover its hold on the world, the principle of authority was, as it were, forced into keen, balanced and prolonged conflict with that of reliance on private judgment. To the Jesuits, the foremost champions in this struggle, it seemed indispensable that the confessional should be made attractive; for this purpose ecclesiastico-moral law must be somehow "accommodated" to worldly needs; and the theory of "Probabilism" supplied a plausible method for effecting this accommodation. The theory proceeded thus: A layman could not be expected to examine minutely into a point on which the learned differed; therefore he could not fairly be blamed for following any opinion that rested on the authority of even a single doctor; therefore his confessor must be authorized to hold him guiltless if any such "probable" opinion could be produced in his favour; nay, it was his duty to suggest such an opinion, even though opposed to his own, if it would relieve the conscience under his charge from a depressing burden. The results to which this Probabilism, applied with an earnest desire to avoid dangerous rigour, led in the 17th century were revealed to the world in the immortal _Lettres provinciales_ of Pascal.

The Reformation. Transition to modern ethical philosophy.

In tracing the development of casuistry we have been carried beyond the great crisis through which Western Christianity passed in the 16th century. The Reformation which Luther initiated may be viewed on several sides, even if we consider only its ethical principles and effects. It maintained the simplicity of Apostolic Christianity against the elaborate system of a corrupt hierarchy, the teaching of Scripture alone against the commentaries of the fathers and the traditions of the church, the right of private judgment against the dictation of ecclesiastical authority, the individual responsibility of every human soul before God in opposition to the papal control over purgatorial punishments, which had led to the revolting degradation of venal indulgences. Reviving the original antithesis between Christianity and Jewish legalism, it maintained the inwardness of faith to be the sole way to eternal life, in contrast to the outwardness of works; returning to Augustine, and expressing his spirit in a new formula, to resist the Neo-Pelagianism that had gradually developed itself within the apparent Augustinianism of the church, it maintained the total corruption of human nature, as contrasted with that "congruity" by which, according to the schoolmen, divine grace was to be earned; renewing the fervent humility of St Paul, it enforced the universal and absolute imperativeness of all Christian duties, and the inevitable unworthiness of all Christian obedience, in opposition to the theory that "condign" merit might be gained by "supererogatory" conformity to evangelical "counsels." It will be seen that these changes, however profoundly important, were, ethically considered, either negative or quite general, relating to the tone and attitude of mind in which all duty should be done. As regards all positive matter of duty and virtue, and most of the prohibitive code for ordinary men, the tradition of Christian teaching was carried on substantially unchanged by the Reformed churches. Even the old method of casuistry was maintained[25] during the 16th and 17th centuries; though Scriptural texts, interpreted and supplemented by the light of natural reason, now furnished the sole principles on which cases of conscience were decided.

Humanism.

In the 17th century, however, the interest of this quasi-legal treatment of morality gradually faded; and the ethical studies of educated minds were occupied with the attempt, renewed after so many centuries, to find an independent philosophical basis for the moral code. The renewal of this attempt was only indirectly due to the Reformation; it is rather to be connected with the more extreme reaction from the medieval religion which was partly caused by, partly expressed in, that enthusiastic study of the remains of old pagan culture that spread from Italy over Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries. To this "humanism" the Reformation seemed at first more hostile than the Roman hierarchy; indeed, the extent to which this latter had allowed itself to become paganized by the Renaissance was one of the points that especially roused the Reformers' indignation. Not the less important is the indirect stimulus given by the Reformation towards the development of a moral philosophy independent alike of Catholic and Protestant assumptions. Scholasticism, while reviving philosophy as a handmaid to theology, had metamorphosed its method into one resembling that of its mistress; thus shackling the renascent intellectual activity which it stimulated by the double bondage to Aristotle and to the church. When the Reformation shook the traditional authority in one department, the blow was necessarily felt in the other. Not twenty years after Luther's defiance of the pope, the startling thesis "that all that Aristotle taught was false" was prosperously maintained by the youthful Ramus before the university of Paris; and almost contemporaneously the group of remarkable thinkers in Italy who heralded the dawn of modern physical science--Cardanus, Telesio, Patrizzi, Campanella, Bruno--began to propound their Aristotelian theories of the constitution of the physical universe. It was to be foreseen that a similar assertion of independence would make itself heard in ethics also; and, indeed, amid the clash of dogmatic convictions, and the variations of private judgment, it was natural to seek for an ethical method that might claim universal acceptance from all sects.

Grotius.

C. _Modern Ethics._--The need of such independent principles was most strongly felt in the region of man's civil and political relations, especially the mutual relations of communities. Accordingly we find that modern ethical controversy began in a discussion of the law of nature. Albericus Gentilis (1557-1611) and Hugo Grotius (1583-1645) were the first to give a systematic account. Natural law, according to Grotius and other writers of the age, is that part of divine law which follows from the essential nature of man, who is distinguished from animals by his "appetite" for tranquil association with his fellows, and his tendency to act on general principles. It is therefore as unalterable, even by God himself, as the truths of mathematics, although its effect may be overruled in any particular case by an express command of God; hence it is cognizable _a priori_, from the abstract consideration of human nature, though its existence may be known _a posteriori_ also from its universal acceptance in human societies. The conception, as we have seen, was taken from the later Roman jurists; by them, however, the law of nature was conceived as something that underlay existing law, and was to be looked for through it, though it might ultimately supersede it, and in the meanwhile represented an ideal standard, by which improvements in legislation were to be guided. Still the language of the jurists in some passages (cf. _Inst. of Justinian_, ii. 1, 2) clearly implied a period of human history in which men were governed by natural law alone, prior to the institution of civil society. Posidonius had identified this period with the mythical "golden age"; and such ideas easily coalesced with the narrative in Genesis. Thus there had become current the conception of a "state of nature" in which individuals or single families lived side by side--under none other than those "natural" laws which prohibited mutual injury and interference in the free use of the goods of the earth common to all, and upheld parental authority, fidelity of wives, and the observance of compacts freely made. This conception Grotius took, and gave it additional force and solidity by using the principles of this natural law for the determination of international rights and duties, it being obvious that independent nations, in their corporate capacities, were still in that "state of nature" in their mutual relations. It was not, of course, assumed that these laws were universally obeyed; indeed, one point with which Grotius is especially concerned is the natural right of private war, arising out of the violation of more primary rights. Still a general observance was involved in the idea of a natural law as a "dictate of right reason indicating the agreement or disagreement of an act with man's rational and social nature"; and we may observe that it was especially necessary to assume such a general observance in the case of contracts, since it was by an "express or tacit pact" that the right of property (as distinct from the mere right to non-interference during use) was held by him to have been instituted. A similar "fundamental pact" had long been generally regarded as the normal origin of legitimate sovereignty.

The ideas above expressed were not peculiar to Grotius; in particular the doctrine of the "fundamental pact" as the jural basis of government had long been maintained, especially in England, where the constitution historically established readily suggested such a compact. At the same time the rapid and remarkable success of Grotius's treatise (_De jure belli et pacis_) brought his view of Natural Right into prominence, and suggested such questions as--"What is man's ultimate reason for obeying these laws? Wherein exactly does this their agreement with his rational and social nature consist? How far, and in what sense, is his nature really social?"

Hobbes.

It was the answer which Hobbes (1588-1679) gave to these fundamental questions that supplied the starting-point for independent ethical philosophy in England. The nature of this answer was determined by the psychological views to which Hobbes had been led, possibly to some extent under the influence of Bacon,[26] partly perhaps through association with his younger contemporary Gassendi, who, in two treatises, published between the appearance of Hobbes's _De cive_ (1642) and that of the _Leviathan_ (1651), endeavoured to revive interest in Epicurus. Hobbes's psychology is in the first place materialistic; he holds, that is, that in any of the psycho-physical phenomena of human nature the reality is a material process of which the mental feeling is a mere "appearance." Accordingly he regards pleasure as essentially motion "helping vital action," and pain as motion "hindering" it. There is no logical connexion between this theory and the doctrine that appetite of desire has always pleasure (or the absence of pain) for its object; but a materialist, framing a system of psychology, will naturally direct his attention to the impulses arising out of bodily wants, whose obvious end is the preservation of the agent's organism; and this, together with a philosophic wish to simplify, may lead him to the conclusion that all human impulses are similarly self-regarding. This, at any rate, is Hobbes's cardinal doctrine in moral psychology, that each man's appetites or desires are naturally directed either to the preservation of his life, or to that heightening of it which he feels as pleasure.[27] Hobbes does not distinguish instinctive from deliberate pleasure-seeking; and he confidently resolves the most apparently unselfish emotions into phases of self-regard. Pity he finds to be grief for the calamity of others, arising from imagination of the like calamity befalling oneself; what we admire with seeming disinterestedness as beautiful (_pulchrum_) is really "pleasure in promise"; when men are not immediately seeking present pleasure, they desire power as a means to future pleasure, and thus have a derivative delight in the exercise of power that prompts to what we call benevolent action. Since, then, all the voluntary actions of men tend to their own preservation or pleasure, it cannot be reasonable to aim at anything else; in fact, nature rather than reason fixes this as the end of human action; it is reason's function to show the means. Hence if we ask why it is reasonable for any individual to observe the rules of social behaviour that are commonly called moral, the answer is obvious that this is only indirectly reasonable, as a means to his own preservation or pleasure. It is not, however, in this, which is only the old Cyrenaic or Epicurean answer, that the distinctive point of Hobbism lies. It is rather in the doctrine that even this indirect reasonableness of the most fundamental moral rules is entirely conditional on their general observance, which cannot be secured apart from government. For example, it is not reasonable for me to perform my share of a contract, unless I have reason for believing that the other party will perform his; and this I cannot have, except in a society in which he will be punished for non-performance. Thus the ordinary rules of social behaviour are only hypothetically obligatory; they are actualized by the establishment of a "common power" that may "use the strength and means of all" to enforce on all the observance of rules tending to the common benefit. On the other hand Hobbes yields to no one in maintaining the paramount importance of moral regulations. The precepts of good faith, equity, requital of benefits, forgiveness of wrong so far as security allows, the prohibition of contumely, pride, arrogance,--which may all be summed up in the formula, "Do not that to another which thou wouldest not have done to thyself" (i.e. the negative of the "golden rule")--he still calls "immutable and eternal laws of nature"--meaning that, though a man is not unconditionally bound to realize them, he is, as a reasonable being, bound to desire that they should be realized. The pre-social state of man, in his view, is also pre-moral; but it is therefore utterly miserable. It is a state in which every one has a right to everything that may conduce to his preservation;[28] but it is therefore also a state of war--a state so wretched that it is the first dictate of rational self-love to emerge from it into social peace and order. Hence Hobbes's ideal constitution naturally comes to be an unquestioned and unlimited--though not necessarily monarchical--despotism. Whatever the government declares to be just or unjust must be accepted as such, since to dispute its dictates would be the first step towards anarchy, the one paramount peril outweighing all particular defects in legislation and administration. It is perhaps easy to understand how, in the crisis of 1640, when the ethico-political system of Hobbes first took written shape, a peace-loving philosopher should regard the claims of individual conscience as essentially anarchical, and dangerous to social well-being; but however strong might be men's yearning for order, a view of social duty, in which the only fixed positions were selfishness everywhere and unlimited power somewhere, could not but appear offensively paradoxical.

There was, however, in his theory an originality, a force, an apparent coherence which rendered it undeniably impressive; in fact, we find that for two generations the efforts to construct morality on a philosophical basis take more or less the form of answers to Hobbes. From an ethical point of view Hobbism divides itself naturally into two parts, which by Hobbes's peculiar political doctrines are combined into a coherent whole, but are not otherwise necessarily connected. Its theoretical basis is the principle of egoism; while, for practically determining the particulars of duty it makes morality entirely dependent on positive law and institution. It thus affirmed the relativity of good and evil in a double sense; good and evil, for any individual citizen, may from one point of view be defined as the objects respectively of his desire and his aversion; from another, they may be said to be determined for him by his sovereign. It is this latter aspect of the system which is primarily attacked by the first generation of writers that replied to Hobbes. This attack, or rather the counter-exposition of orthodox doctrine, is conducted on different methods by the Cambridge moralists and by Cumberland respectively. Cumberland is content with the legal view of morality, but endeavours to establish the validity of the laws of nature by taxing them on the single supreme principle of rational regard for the "common good of all," and showing them, as so based, to be adequately supported by the divine sanction. The Cambridge school, regarding morality primarily as a body of truth rather than a code of rules, insist on its absolute character and intuitive certainty.

The Cambridge moralists, Cudworth.

Cudworth was the most distinguished of the little group of thinkers at Cambridge in the 17th century, commonly known as the Cambridge Platonists (q.v.). In his treatise on _Eternal and Immutable Morality_ his main aim is to maintain the "essential and eternal distinctions of good and evil" as independent of mere will, whether human or divine. These distinctions, he insists, have an objective reality, cognizable by reason no less than the relations of space or number; and he endeavours to refute Hobbism--which he treats as a "novantique philosophy," a mere revival of the relativism of Protagoras--chiefly by the following _argumentum ad hominem_. He argues that Hobbes's atomic materialism involves the conception of an objective physical world, the object not of passive sense that varies from man to man, but of the active intellect that is the same in all; there is therefore, he urges, an inconsistency in refusing to admit a similar exercise of intellect in morals, and an objective world of right and wrong, which the mind by its normal activity clearly apprehends as such.

More.

Cudworth, in the work above mentioned, gives no systematic exposition of the ethical principles which he holds to be thus intuitively apprehended. But we may supply this deficiency from the _Enchiridion Ethicum_ of Henry More, another thinker of the same school. More gives a list of 23 _Noemata Moralia_, the truth of which will, he says, be immediately manifest. Some of these admit of a purely egoistic application, and appear to be so understood by the author--as (e.g.) that goods differ in quality as well as in duration, and that the superior good or the lesser evil is always to be preferred; that absence of a given amount of good is preferable to the presence of equivalent evil; that future good or evil is to be regarded as much as present, if equally certain, and nearly as much if very probable. Objections, both general and special, might be urged by a Hobbist against these modes of formulating man's natural pursuit of self-interest; but the serious controversy between Hobbism and modern Platonism related not to such principles as these, but to others which demand from the individual a (real or apparent) sacrifice for his fellows. Such are the evangelical principle of "doing as you would be done by"; the principle of justice, or "giving every man his own, and letting him enjoy it without interference"; and especially what More states as the abstract formula of benevolence, that "if it be good that one man should be supplied with the means of living well and happily, it is mathematically certain that it is doubly good that two should be so supplied, and so on." The question, however, still remains, what motive any individual has to conform to these social principles when they conflict with his natural desires. To this Cudworth gives no explicit reply, and the answer of More is hardly clear. On the one hand he maintains that these principles express an absolute good, which is to be called intellectual because its essence and truth are apprehended by the intellect. We might infer from this that the intellect, so judging, is itself the proper and complete determinant of the will, and that man, as a rational being, ought to aim at the realization of absolute good for its own sake. In spite, however, of possible inferences from his definition of virtue, this does not seem to be really More's view. He explains that though absolute good is discerned by the intellect, the "sweetness and flavour" of it is apprehended, not by the intellect proper, but by what he calls a "boniform faculty"; and it is in this sweetness and flavour that the motive to virtuous conduct lies; ethics is the "art of living well and happily," and true happiness lies in "the pleasure which the soul derives from the sense of virtue." In short, More's Platonism appears to be really as hedonistic as Hobbism; only the feeling to which it appeals as ultimate motive is of a kind that only a mind of exceptional moral refinement can habitually feel with the decisive intensity required.

Cumberland.

It is to be observed that though More lays down the abstract principle of regarding one's neighbour's good as much as one's own with the full breadth with which Christianity inculcates it, yet when he afterwards comes to classify virtues he is too much under the influence of Platonic-Aristotelian thought to give a distinct place to benevolence, except under the old form of liberality. In this respect his system presents a striking contrast to Cumberland's, whose treatise _De Legibus Naturae_ (1672), though written like More's in Latin, is yet in its ethical matter thoroughly modern. Cumberland is a thinker both original and comprehensive, and, in spite of defects in style and clearness, he is noteworthy as having been the first to lay down that "regard for the common good of all" is the supreme rule of morality or law of nature. So far he may be fairly called the precursor of later utilitarianism. His fundamental principle and supreme "Law of Nature" is thus stated: "The greatest possible benevolence of every rational agent towards all the rest constitutes the happiest state of each and all, so far as depends on their own power, and is necessarily required for their happiness; accordingly Common Good will be the Supreme Good." It is, however, important to notice that in his "good" is included not merely happiness but "perfection"; and he does not even define perfection so as to exclude from it the notion of absolute moral perfection and save his theory from an obvious logical circle. A notion so vague could not possibly be used with any precision for determining the subordinate rules of morality; but in fact Cumberland does not attempt this; his supreme principle is designed not to rectify, but merely to support and systematize, common morality. This principle, as was said, is conceived as strictly a law, and therefore referred to a lawgiver, God, and provided with a sanction in its effects on the agent's happiness. That the divine will is expressed by it, Cumberland, "not being so fortunate as to possess innate ideas," tries to prove by a long inductive examination of the evidences of man's essential sociality exhibited in his physical and mental constitution. His account of the sanction, again, is sufficiently comprehensive, including both the internal and the external rewards of virtue and punishments of vice; and he, like later utilitarians, explains moral obligation to lie in the force exercised on the will by these sanctions; but as to the precise manner in which individual is implicated with universal good, and the operation of either or both in determining volition, his view is indistinct if not actually inconsistent.

Locke.

The clearness which we seek in vain from Cumberland is found to the fullest extent in Locke, whose _Essay on the Human Understanding_ (1690) was already planned when Cumberland's treatise appeared. Yet Locke's ethical opinions have been widely misunderstood; since from a confusion between "innate ideas" and "intuitions," which has been common in recent ethical discussion, it has been supposed that the founder of English empiricism must necessarily have been hostile to "intuitional" ethics. The truth is that, while Locke agrees entirely with Hobbes as to the egoistic basis of rational conduct, and the interpretation of "good" and "evil" as "pleasure" and "pain," or that which is productive of pleasure and pain, he yet agrees entirely with Hobbes's opponents in holding ethical rules to be actually obligatory independently of political society, and capable of being scientifically constructed on principles intuitively known,--though he does not regard these principles as implanted in the mind at birth. The aggregate of such rules he conceives as the law of God, carefully distinguishing it, not only from civil law, but from the law of opinion or reputation, the varying moral standard by which men actually distribute praise and blame; as being divine it is necessarily sanctioned by adequate rewards and punishments. He does not, indeed, speak of the scientific construction of this code as having been actually effected, but he affirms its possibility in language remarkably strong and decisive. "The idea," he says, "of a Supreme Being, infinite in power, goodness, and wisdom, whose workmanship we are, and upon whom we depend, and the idea of ourselves, as understanding rational beings, being such as are clear in us, would, I suppose, if duly considered and pursued, afford such foundations of our duty and rules of action, as might place morality among the sciences capable of demonstration; wherein, I doubt not, but from self-evident propositions, by necessary consequences as incontestable as those in mathematics, the measure of right and wrong might be made out." As Locke cannot consistently mean by God's "goodness" anything but the disposition to give pleasure, it might be inferred that the ultimate standard of right rules of action ought to be the common happiness of the beings affected by the action; but Locke does not explicitly adopt this standard. The only instances which he gives of intuitive moral truths are the purely formal propositions, "No government allows absolute liberty," and "Where there is no property there is no injustice,"--neither of which has any evident connexion with the general happiness. As regards his conception of the Law of Nature, he takes it in the main immediately from Grotius and Pufendorf, more remotely from the Stoics and the Roman jurists.

Clarke.

We might give, as a fair illustration of Locke's general conception of ethics, a system which is frequently represented as diametrically opposed to Lockism; namely, that expounded in Clarke's Boyle lectures on the _Being and Attributes of God_ (1704). It is true that Locke is not particularly concerned with the ethico-theological proposition which Clarke is most anxious to maintain,--that the fundamental rules of morality are independent of arbitrary will, whether divine or human. But in his general view of ethical principles as being, like mathematical principles,[29] essentially truths of relation, Clarke is quite in accordance with Locke; while of the four fundamental rules that he expounds, Piety towards God, Equity, Benevolence and Sobriety (which includes self-preservation), the first is obtained, just as Locke suggests, by "comparing the idea" of man with the idea of an infinitely good and wise being on whom he depends; and the second and third are axioms self-evident on the consideration of the equality or similarity of human individuals as such. The principle of equity--that "whatever I judge reasonable or unreasonable for another to do for me, that by the same I declare reasonable or unreasonable that I in the like case should do for him," is merely a formal statement of the golden rule of the gospel. We may observe that, in stating the principle of benevolence, "since the greater good is always most fit and reasonable to be done, every rational creature ought to do all the good it can to its fellow-creatures," Clarke avowedly follows Cumberland, from whom he quotes the further sentence that "universal love and benevolence is as plainly the most direct, certain and effectual means to this good as the flowing of a point is to produce a line." The quotation may remind us that the analogy between ethics and mathematics ought to be traced further back than Locke; in fact, it results from the influence exercised by Cartesianism over English thought generally, in the latter half of the 17th century. It must be allowed that Clarke is misled by the analogy to use general ethical terms ("fitness," "agreement" of things, &c.), which overlook the essential distinction between what is and what ought to be; and even in one or two expressions to overleap this distinction extravagantly, as (e.g.) in saying that the man who "wilfully acts contrary to justice wills things to be what they are not and cannot be." What he really means is less paradoxically stated in the general proposition that "originally and in reality it is natural and (morally speaking) necessary that the will should be determined in every action by the reason of the thing and the right of the case, as it is natural and (absolutely speaking) necessary that the understanding should submit to a demonstrated truth." But though it is an essential point in Clarke's view that what is right is to be done as such, apart from any consideration of pleasure or pain, it is to be inferred that he is not prepared to apply this doctrine in its unqualified form to such a creature as man, who is partly under the influence of irrational impulses. At least when he comes to argue the need of future rewards and punishments we find that his claim on behalf of morality is startlingly reduced. He now only contends that "virtue deserves to be chosen for its own sake, and vice to be avoided, though a man was sure for his own particular neither to gain nor lose anything by the practice of either." He fully admits that the question is altered when vice is attended by pleasure and profit to the vicious man, virtue by loss and calamity; and even that it is "not truly reasonable that men by adhering to virtue should part with their lives, if thereby they deprived themselves of all possibility of receiving any advantage from their adherence."

Thus, on the whole, the impressive earnestness with which Clarke enforces the doctrine of rational morality only rendered more manifest the difficulty of establishing ethics on an independent philosophical basis; so long at least as the psychological egoism of Hobbes is not definitely assailed and overthrown. Until this is done, the utmost demonstration of the abstract reasonableness of social duty only leaves us with an irreconcilable antagonism between the view of abstract reason and the self-love which is allowed to be the root of man's appetitive nature. Let us grant that there is as much intellectual absurdity in acting unjustly as in denying that two and two make four; still, if a man has to choose between absurdity and unhappiness, he will naturally prefer the former; and Clarke, as we have already seen, is not really prepared to maintain that such preference is irrational.[30]

Shaftesbury.

It remains to try another psychological basis for ethical construction; instead of presenting the principle of social duty as abstract reason, liable to conflict to any extent with natural self-love, we may try to exhibit the naturalness of man's social affections, and demonstrate a normal harmony between these and his self-regarding impulses. This is the line of thought which Shaftesbury (1671-1713) may be said to have initiated. This theory had already been advanced by Cumberland and others, but Shaftesbury was the first to make it the cardinal point in his system; no one had yet definitely transferred the centre of ethical interest from the Reason, conceived as apprehending either abstract moral distinctions or laws of divine legislation, for the emotional impulses that prompt to social duty; no one had undertaken to distinguish clearly, by analysis of experience, the disinterested and self-regarding elements of our appetitive nature, or to prove inductively their perfect harmony. In his _Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit_ he begins by attacking the egoism of Hobbes, which, as we have seen, was not necessarily excluded by the doctrine of rational intuitions of duty. This interpretation, he says, would be true only if we considered man as a wholly unrelated individual. Such a being we might doubtless call "good," if his impulses were adapted to the attainment of his own felicity. But man we must and do consider in relation to a larger system of which he forms a part, and so we call him "good" only when his impulses and dispositions are so balanced as to tend towards the good of this whole. And again we do not attribute goodness to him merely because his outward acts have beneficial results. When we speak of a man as good, we mean that his dispositions or affections are such as tend of themselves to promote the good or happiness of human society. Hobbes's moral man, who, if let loose from governmental constraint, would straightway spread ruin among his fellows, is not what we commonly agree to call good. Moral goodness, then, in a "sensible creature" implies primarily disinterested affections, whose direct object is the good of others; but Shaftesbury does not mean (as he has been misunderstood to mean) that only such benevolent social impulses are good, and that these are always good. On the contrary, he is careful to point out, first, that immoderate social affections defeat themselves, miss their proper end, and are therefore bad; secondly, that as an individual's good is part of the good of the whole, "self-affections" existing in a duly limited degree are morally good. Goodness, in short, consists in due combination, in just proportion, of both sorts of "affections," tendency to promote general good being taken as the criterion of the right degrees and proportions. This being established, the main aim of Shaftesbury's argument is to prove that the same balance of private and social affections, which tends naturally to public good, is also conducive to the happiness of the individual in whom it exists. Taking the different impulses in detail, he first shows how the individual's happiness is promoted by developing his social affections, mental pleasures being superior to bodily, and the pleasures of benevolence the richest of all. In discussing this he distinguishes, with well-applied subtlety, between the pleasurableness of the benevolent emotions themselves, the sympathetic enjoyment of the happiness of others, and the pleasure arising from a consciousness of their love and esteem. He then exhibits the unhappiness that results from any excess of the self-regarding impulses, bodily appetite, desire of wealth, emulation, resentment, even love of life itself; and ends by dwelling on the intrinsic painfulness of all malevolence.[31]

One more special impulse remains to be noticed. We have seen that goodness of character consists in a certain harmony of self-regarding and social affections. But virtue, in Shaftesbury's view, is something more; it implies a recognition of moral goodness and immediate preference of it for its own sake. This immediate pleasure that we take in goodness (and displeasure in its opposite) is due to a susceptibility which he calls the "reflex" or "moral" sense, and compares with our susceptibility to beauty and deformity in external things; it furnishes both an additional direct impulse to good conduct, and an additional gratification to be taken into account in the reckoning which proves the coincidence of virtue and happiness. This doctrine of the moral sense is sometimes represented as Shaftesbury's cardinal tenet; but though characteristic and important, it is not really necessary to his main argument; it is the crown rather than the keystone of his ethical structure.

Mandeville.

The appearance of Shaftesbury's _Characteristics_ (1713) marks a turning-point in the history of English ethical thought. With the generation of moralists that followed, the consideration of abstract rational principles falls into the background, and its place is taken by introspective study of the human mind, observation of the actual play of its various impulses and sentiments. This empirical psychology had not indeed been neglected by previous writers. More, among others, had imitated Descartes in a discussion of the passions, and Locke's essay had given a still stronger impulse in the same direction; still, Shaftesbury is the first moralist who distinctly takes psychological experience as the basis of ethics. His suggestions were developed by Hutcheson into one of the most elaborate systems of moral philosophy which we possess; through Hutcheson, if not directly, they influenced Hume's speculations, and are thus connected with later utilitarianism. Moreover, the substance of Shaftesbury's main argument was adopted by Butler, though it could not pass the scrutiny of that powerful and cautious intellect without receiving important modifications and additions. On the other hand, the ethical optimism of Shaftesbury, rather broadly impressive than exactly reasoned, and connected as it was with a natural theology that implied the Christian scheme to be superfluous, challenged attack equally from orthodox divines and from cynical freethinkers. Of these latter Mandeville, the author of _The Fable of the Bees, or Private Vices Public Benefits_ (1723), was a conspicuous if not a typical specimen. He can hardly be called a "moralist"; and though it is impossible to deny him a considerable share of philosophic penetration, his anti-moral paradoxes have not even apparent coherence. He is convinced that virtue (where it is more than a mere pretence) is purely artificial; but not quite certain whether it is a useless trammel of appetites and passions that are advantageous to society, or a device creditable to the politicians who introduced it by playing upon the "pride and vanity" of the "silly creature man." The view, however, to which he gave audacious expression, that moral regulation is something alien to the natural man, and imposed on him from without, seems to have been very current in the polite society of his time, as we learn both from Berkeley's _Alciphron_ and from Butler's more famous sermons.

Butler.

The view of "human nature" against which Butler preached was not exactly Mandeville's, nor was it properly to be called Hobbist, although Butler fairly treats it as having a philosophical basis in Hobbes's psychology. It was, so to say, Hobbism turned inside out,--rendered licentious and anarchical instead of constructive. Hobbes had said "the natural state of man is non-moral, unregulated; moral rules are means to the end of peace, which is a means to the end of self-preservation." On this view morality, though dependent for its actuality on the social compact which establishes government, is actually binding on man as a reasonable being. But the quasi-theistic assumption that what is natural must be reasonable remained in the minds of Hobbes's most docile readers, and in combination with his thesis that egoism is natural, tended to produce results which were dangerous to social well-being. To meet this view Butler does not content himself, as is sometimes carelessly supposed, with insisting on the natural claim to authority of the conscience which his opponent repudiated as artificial; he adds a subtle and effective argument _ad hominem_. He first follows Shaftesbury in exhibiting the social affections as no less natural than the appetites and desires which tend directly to self-preservation; then reviving the Stoic view of the _prima naturae_, the first objects of natural appetites, he argues that pleasure is not the primary aim even of the impulses which Shaftesbury allowed to be "self-affections"; but rather a result which follows upon their attaining their natural ends. We have, in fact, to distinguish self-love, the "general desire that every man hath of his own happiness" or pleasure, from the particular affections, passions, and appetites directed towards objects other than pleasure, in the satisfaction of which pleasure consists. The latter are "necessarily presupposed" as distinct impulses in "the very idea of an interested pursuit"; since, if there were no such pre-existing desires, there would be no pleasure for self-love to aim at. Thus the object of hunger is not the pleasure of eating but food; hunger is therefore, strictly speaking, no more "interested" than benevolence; granting that the pleasures of the table are an important element in the happiness at which self-love aims, the same at least may be said for the pleasures of love and sympathy. Further, so far from bodily appetites (or other particular desires) being forms of self-love, there is no one of them which under certain circumstances may not come into conflict with it. Indeed, it is common for men to sacrifice to passion what they know to be their true interests; at the same time we do not consider such conduct "natural" in man as a rational being; we rather regard it as natural for him to govern his transient impulses. Thus the notion of natural unregulated egoism turns out to be a psychological chimera. Indeed, we may say that an egoist must be doubly self-regulative, since rational self-love ought to restrain not only other impulses, but itself also; for as happiness is made up of feelings that result from the satisfaction of impulses other than self-love, any over-development of the latter, enfeebling these other impulses, must proportionally diminish the happiness at which self-love aims. If, then, it be admitted that human impulses are naturally under government, the natural claim of conscience or the moral faculty to be the supreme governor will hardly be denied.

But has not self-love also, by Butler's own account, a similar authority, which may come into conflict with that of conscience? Butler fully admits this, and, in fact, grounds on it an important criticism of Shaftesbury. We have seen that in the latter's system the "moral sense" is not absolutely required, or at least is necessary only as a substitute for enlightened self-regard; since if the harmony between prudence and virtue, self-regarding and social impulses, is complete, mere self-interest will prompt a duly enlightened mind to maintain precisely that "balance" of affections in which goodness consists. But to Butler's more cautious mind the completeness of this harmony did not seem sufficiently demonstrable to be taken as a basis of moral teaching; he has at least to contemplate the possibility of a man being convinced of the opposite; and he argues that unless we regard conscience as essentially authoritative--which is not implied in the term "moral sense"--such a man is really bound to be vicious; "since interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest obligation." Still on this view, even if the authority of conscience be asserted, we seem reduced to an ultimate dualism of our rational nature. Butler's ordered polity of impulses turns out to be a polity with two independent governments. Butler does not deny this, so far as mere claim to authority is concerned;[32] but he maintains that, the dictates of conscience being clear and certain, while the calculations of self-interest lead to merely probable conclusions, it can never be practically reasonable to disobey the former, even apart from any proof which religion may furnish of the absolute coincidence of the two in a future life.

Wollaston.

This dualism of governing principles, conscience and self-love, in Butler's system, and perhaps, too, his revival of the Platonic conception of human nature as an ordered and governed community of impulses, is perhaps most nearly anticipated in Wollaston's _Religion of Nature Delineated_ (1722). Here, for the first time, we find "moral good" and "natural good" or "happiness" treated separately as two essentially distinct objects of rational pursuit and investigation; the harmony between them being regarded as matter of religious faith, not moral knowledge. Wollaston's theory of moral evil as consisting in the practical contradiction of a true proposition, closely resembles the most paradoxical part of Clarke's doctrine, and was not likely to approve itself to the strong common sense of Butler; but his statement of happiness or pleasure as a "justly desirable" end at which every rational being "ought" to aim corresponds exactly to Butler's conception of self-love as a naturally governing impulse; while the "moral arithmetic" with which he compares pleasures and pains, and endeavours to make the notion of happiness quantitatively precise, is an anticipation of Benthamism.

Hutcheson.

There is another side of Shaftesbury's harmony which Butler was ultimately led to oppose in a more decided manner,--the opposition, namely, between conscience or the moral sense and the social affections. In the _Sermons_, indeed (1729), Butler seems to treat conscience and calm benevolence as permanently allied though distinct principles, but in the _Dissertation on Virtue_, appended to the _Analogy_ (1739), he maintains that the conduct dictated by conscience will often differ widely from that to which mere regard for the production of happiness would prompt. We may take this latter treatise as representing the first in the development of English ethics, at which what were afterwards called "utilitarian" and "intuitional" morality were first formally opposed; in earlier systems the antithesis is quite latent, as we have incidentally noticed in the case of Cumberland and Clarke. The argument in Butler's dissertation was probably directed chiefly against Hutcheson, who in his _Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue_ had definitely identified virtue with benevolence. The identification is slightly qualified in Hutcheson's posthumously published _System of Moral Philosophy_ (1755), in which the general view of Shaftesbury is more fully developed, with several new psychological distinctions, including Butler's separation of "calm" benevolence--as well as, after Butler, "calm self-love"--from the "turbulent" passions, selfish or social. Hutcheson follows Butler again in laying stress on the regulating and controlling function of the moral sense; but he still regards "kind affections" as the principal objects of moral approbation--the "calm" and "extensive" affections being preferred to the turbulent and narrow--together with the desire and love of moral excellence which is ranked with universal benevolence, the two being equally worthy and necessarily harmonious. Only in a secondary sense is approval due to certain "abilities and dispositions immediately connected with virtuous affections," as candour, veracity, fortitude, sense of honour; while in a lower grade still are placed sciences and arts, along with even bodily skills and gifts; indeed, the approbation we give to these is not strictly moral, but is referred to the "sense of decency or dignity," which (as well as the sense of honour) is to be distinguished from the moral sense. Calm self-love Hutcheson regards as morally indifferent; though he enters into a careful analysis of the elements of happiness,[33] in order to show that a true regard for private interest always coincides with the moral sense and with benevolence. While thus maintaining Shaftesbury's "harmony" between public and private good, Hutcheson is still more careful to establish the strict disinterestedness of benevolent affections. Shaftesbury had conclusively shown that these were not in the vulgar sense selfish; but the very stress which he lays on the pleasure inseparable from their exercise suggests a subtle egoistic theory which he does not expressly exclude, since it may be said that this "intrinsic reward" constitutes the real motive of the benevolent man. To this Hutcheson replies that no doubt the exquisite delight of the emotion of love is a motive to sustain and develop it; but this pleasure cannot be directly obtained, any more than other pleasures, by merely desiring it; it can be sought only by the indirect method of cultivating and indulging the disinterested desire for others' good, which is thus obviously distinct from the desire for the pleasure of benevolence. He points to the fact that the imminence of death often intensifies instead of diminishing a man's desire for the welfare of those he loves, as a crucial experiment proving the disinterestedness of love; adding, as confirmatory evidence, that the sympathy and admiration commonly felt for self-sacrifice depends on the belief that it is something different from refined self-seeking.

It remains to consider how, from the doctrine that affection is the proper object of approbation, we are to deduce moral rules or "natural laws" prescribing or prohibiting outward acts. It is obvious that all actions conducive to the general good will deserve our highest approbation if done from disinterested benevolence; but how if they are not so done? In answering this question, Hutcheson avails himself of the scholastic distinction between "material" and "formal" goodness. "An action," he says, "is _materially_ good when in fact it tends to the interest of the system, so far as we can judge of its tendency, or to the good of some part consistent with that of the system, whatever were the affections of the agent. An action is _formally_ good when it flowed from good affection in a just proportion." On the pivot of this distinction Hutcheson turns round from the point of view of Shaftesbury to that of later utilitarianism. As regards "material" goodness of actions, he adopts explicitly and unreservedly the formula afterwards taken as fundamental by Bentham; holding that "that action is best which procures the greatest happiness for the greatest numbers, and the worst which in a like manner occasions misery." Accordingly his treatment of external rights and duties, though decidedly inferior in methodical clearness and precision, does not differ in principle from that of Paley or Bentham, except that he lays greater stress on the immediate conduciveness of actions to the happiness of individuals, and more often refers in a merely supplementary or restrictive way to their tendencies in respect of general happiness. It may be noticed, too, that he still accepts the "social compact" as the natural mode of constituting government, and regards the obligations of subjects to civil obedience as normally dependent on a tacit contract; though he is careful to state that consent is not absolutely necessary to the just establishment of beneficent government, nor the source of irrevocable obligation to a pernicious one.

Hume.

An important step further in political utilitarianism was taken by Hume in his _Treatise on Human Nature_ (1739). Hume concedes that a compact is the natural means of peacefully instituting a new government, and may therefore be properly regarded as the ground of allegiance to it at the outset; but he urges that, when once it is firmly established the duty of obeying it rests on precisely the same combination of private and general interests as the duty of keeping promises; it is therefore absurd to base the former on the latter. Justice, veracity, fidelity to compacts and to governments, are all co-ordinate; they are all "artificial" virtues, due to civilization, and not belonging to man in his "ruder and more natural" condition; our approbation of all alike is founded on our perception of their useful consequences. It is this last position that constitutes the fundamental difference between Hutcheson's ethical doctrine and Hume's.[34] The former, while accepting utility as the criterion of "material goodness," had adhered to Shaftesbury's view that dispositions, not results of action, were the proper object of moral approval; at the same time, while giving to benevolence the first place in his account of personal merit, he had shrunk from the paradox of treating it as the sole virtue, and had added a rather undefined and unexplained train of qualities,--veracity, fortitude, activity, industry, sagacity,--immediately approved in various degrees by the "moral sense" or the "sense of dignity." This naturally suggested to a mind like Hume's, anxious to apply the experimental method to psychology, the problem of reducing these different elements of personal merit--or rather our approval of them--to some common principle. The old theory that referred this approval entirely to self-love, is, he holds, easy to disprove by "crucial experiments" on the play of our moral sentiments; rejecting this, he finds the required explanation in the sympathetic pleasure that attends our perception of the conduciveness of virtue to the interests of human beings other than ourselves. He endeavours to establish this inductively by a survey of the qualities, commonly praised as virtues, which he finds to be always either useful or immediately agreeable, either (1) to the virtuous agent himself or (2) to others. In class (2) he includes, besides the Benevolence of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, the useful virtues, Justice, Veracity and Fidelity to compacts; as well as such immediately agreeable qualities as politeness, wit, modesty and even cleanliness. The most original part of his discussion, however, is concerned with qualities immediately useful to their possessor. The most cynical man of the world, he says, with whatever "sullen incredulity" he may repudiate virtue as a hollow pretence, cannot really refuse his approbation to "discretion, caution, enterprise, industry, frugality, economy, good sense, prudence, discernment"; nor again, to "temperance, sobriety, patience, perseverance, considerateness, secrecy, order, insinuation, address, presence of mind, quickness of conception, facility of expression." It is evident that the merit of these qualities in our eyes is chiefly due to our perception of their tendency to serve the person possessed of them; so that the cynic in praising them is really exhibiting the unselfish sympathy of which he doubts the existence. Hume admits the difficulty that arises, especially in the case of the "artificial" virtues, such as justice, &c., from the undeniable fact that we praise them and blame their opposites without consciously reflecting on useful or pernicious consequences; but considers that this may be explained as an effect of "education and acquired habits."[35]

So far the moral faculty has been considered as contemplative rather than active; and this, indeed, is the point of view from which Hume mainly regards it. If we ask what actual motive we have for virtuous conduct, Hume's answer is not quite clear. On the one hand, he speaks of moral approbation as derived from "humanity and benevolence," while expressly recognizing, after Butler, that there is a strictly disinterested element in our benevolent impulses (as also in hunger, thirst, love of fame and other passions). On the other hand, he does not seem to think that moral sentiment or "taste" can "become a motive to action," except as it "gives pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery." It is difficult to make these views quite consistent; but at any rate Hume emphatically maintains that "_reason_ is no motive to action," except so far as it "directs the impulse received from appetite or inclination"; and recognizes--in his later treatise at least--no "obligation" to virtue, except that of the agent's interest or happiness. He attempts, however, to show, in a summary way, that all the duties which his moral theory recommends are also "the true interest of the individual,"--taking into account the importance to his happiness of "peaceful reflection on one's own conduct."

Adam Smith.

But even if we consider the moral consciousness merely as a particular kind of pleasurable emotion, there is an obvious question suggested by Hume's theory, to which he gives no adequate answer. If the essence of "moral taste" is sympathy with the pleasure of others, why is not this specific feeling excited by other things beside virtue that tend to cause such pleasure? On this point Hume contents himself with the vague remark that "there are a numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking rational beings are by the original constitution of nature the only proper objects." The truth is, that Hume's notion of moral approbation was very loose, as is sufficiently shown by the list of "useful and agreeable" qualities which he considers worthy of approbation.[36] It is therefore hardly surprising that his theory should leave the specific quality of the moral sentiments a fact still needing to be explained. An original and ingenious solution of this problem was offered by his contemporary Adam Smith, in his _Theory of Moral Sentiments_ (1759). Without denying the actuality or importance of that sympathetic pleasure in the perceived or inferred effects of virtues and vices he yet holds that the essential part of common moral sentiment is constituted rather by a more direct sympathy with the impulses that prompt to action or expression. The spontaneous play of this sympathy he treats as an original and inexplicable fact of human nature, but he considers that its action is powerfully sustained by the pleasure that each man finds in the accord of his feelings with another's. By means of this primary element, compounded in various ways, Adam Smith explains all the phenomena of the moral consciousness. He takes first the semi-moral notion of "propriety" or "decorum," and endeavours to show inductively that our application of this notion to the social behaviour of another is determined by our degree of sympathy with the feeling expressed in such behaviour. Thus the prescriptions of good taste in the expression of feeling may be summed up in the principle, "reduce or raise the expression to that with which spectators will sympathize." When the effort to restrain feeling is exhibited in a degree which surprises as well as pleases, it excites admiration as a virtue or excellence; such excellences Adam Smith quaintly calls the "awful and respectable," contrasting them with the "amiable virtues" which consist in the opposite effort to sympathize, when exhibited in a remarkable degree. From the sentiments of propriety and admiration we proceed to the sense of merit and demerit. Here a more complex phenomenon presents itself for analysis; we have to distinguish in the sense of merit--(1) a direct sympathy with the sentiments of the agent, and (2) an indirect sympathy with the gratitude of those who receive the benefit of his actions. In the case of demerit there is a direct antipathy to the feelings of the misdoer, but the chief sentiment excited is sympathy with those injured by the misdeed. The object of this sympathetic resentment, impelling us to punish, is what we call injustice; and thus the remarkable stringency of the obligation to act justly is explained since the recognition of any action as unjust involves the admission that it may be forcibly obstructed or punished. Moral judgments, then, are expressions of the complex normal sympathy of an impartial spectator with the active impulses that prompt to and result from actions. In the case of our own conduct what we call conscience is really sympathy with the feelings of an imaginary impartial spectator.

Adam Smith gives authority to his moral system by saying that "moral principles are justly to be regarded as the laws of the Deity"; but this he never proves. So Hume insists emphatically on the "reality of moral obligation"; but is found to mean no more by this than the real existence of the likes and dislikes that human beings feel for each other's qualities. The fact is that amid the analysis of feelings aroused by the sentimentalism of Shaftesbury's school, the fundamental questions "What is right?" and "Why?" had been allowed to drop into the background, and the consequent danger to morality was manifest. The binding force of moral rules becomes evanescent if we admit, with Hutcheson, that the "sense" of them may properly vary from man to man as the palate does; and it seems only another way of putting Hume's doctrine, that reason is not concerned with the ends of action, to say that the mere existence of a moral sentiment is in itself no reason for obeying it. A reaction, in one form or another, against the tendency to dissolve ethics into psychology was inevitable; since mankind generally could not be so far absorbed by the interest of psychological hypothesis as to forget their need of establishing practical principles. It was obvious, too, that this reaction might take place in either of the two lines of thought, which, having been peacefully allied in Clarke and Cumberland, had become distinctly opposed to each other in Butler and Hutcheson. It might either fall back on the moral principles commonly accepted, and, affirming their objective validity, endeavour to exhibit them as a coherent and complete set of ultimate ethical truths; or it might take the utility or conduciveness to pleasure, to which Hume had referred for the origin of most sentiments, as an ultimate end and standard by which these sentiments might be judged and corrected. The former is the line adopted with substantial agreement by Price, Reid, Stewart and other members of the still existing Intuitional school; the latter method, with considerably more divergence of view and treatment, was employed independently and almost simultaneously by Paley and Bentham in both ethics and politics, and is at the present time widely maintained under the name of Utilitarianism.

Price.

Price's _Review of the Chief Questions and Difficulties of Morals_ was published in 1757, two years before Adam Smith's treatise. In regarding moral ideas as derived from the "intuition of truth or immediate discernment of the nature of things by the understanding," Price revives the general view of Cudworth and Clarke; but with several specific differences. Firstly, his conception of "right" and "wrong" as "single ideas" incapable of definition or analysis--the notions "right," "fit," "ought," "duty," "obligation," being coincident or identical--at least avoids the confusions into which Clarke and Wollaston had been led by pressing the analogy between ethical and physical truth. Secondly, the emotional element of the moral consciousness, on which attention had been concentrated by Shaftesbury and his followers, though distinctly recognized as accompanying the intellectual intuition, is carefully subordinated to it. While right and wrong, in Price's view, are "real objective qualities" of actions, moral "beauty and deformity" are subjective ideas; representing feelings which are partly the necessary effects of the perceptions of right and wrong in rational beings as such, partly due to an "implanted sense" or varying emotional susceptibility. Thus, both reason and sense of instinct co-operate in the impulse to virtuous conduct, though the rational element is primary and paramount. Price further follows Butler in distinguishing the perception of merit and demerit in agents as another accompaniment of the perception of right and wrong in actions; the former being, however, only a peculiar species of the latter, since, to perceive merit in any one is to perceive that it is right to reward him. It is to be observed that both Price and Reid are careful to state that the merit of the agent depends entirely on the intention or "formal rightness" of his act; a man is not blameworthy for unintended evil, though he may of course be blamed for any wilful neglect (cf. Arist., _Eth. Nic_., iii. 1), which has caused him to be ignorant of his real duty. When we turn to the subject matter of virtue, we find that Price, in comparison with More or Clarke is decidedly laxer in accepting and stating his ethical first principles; chiefly owing to the new antithesis to the view of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson by which his controversial position is complicated. What Price is specially concerned to show is the existence of ultimate principles _beside_ the principle of universal benevolence. Not that he repudiates the obligation either of rational benevolence or self-love; on the contrary, he takes more pains than Butler to demonstrate the reasonableness of either principle. "There is not anything," he says, "of which we have more undeniably an intuitive perception, than that it is 'right to pursue and promote happiness,' whether for ourselves or for others." Finally, Price, writing after the demonstration by Shaftesbury and Butler of the actuality of disinterested impulses in human nature, is bolder and clearer than Cudworth or Clarke in insisting that right actions are to be chosen because they are right by virtuous agents as such, even going so far as to lay down that an act loses its moral worth in proportion as it is done from natural inclination.

Reid.

On this latter point Reid, in his _Essays on the Active Powers of the Human Mind_ (1788), states a conclusion more in harmony with common sense, only maintaining that "no act can be morally good in which regard for what is right has not _some_ influence." This is partly due to the fact that Reid builds more distinctly than Price on the foundation laid by Butler; especially in his acceptance of that duality of governing principles which we have noticed as a cardinal point in the latter's doctrine. Reid considers "regard for one's good on the whole" (Butler's self-love) and "sense of duty" (Butler's conscience) as two essentially distinct and co-ordinate rational principles, though naturally often comprehended under the one term, Reason. The rationality of the former principle he takes pains to explain and establish; in opposition to Hume's doctrine that it is no part of the function of reason to determine the ends which we ought to pursue, or the preference due to one end over another. He urges that the notion of "good[37] on the whole" is one which only a reasoning being can form, involving as it does abstraction from the objects of all particular desires, and comparison of past and future with present feelings; and maintains that it is a contradiction to suppose a rational being to have the notion of its Good on the Whole without a desire for it, and that such a desire must naturally regulate all particular appetites and passions. It cannot reasonably be subordinated even to the moral faculty; in fact, a man who doubts the coincidence of the two--which on religious grounds we must believe to be complete in a morally governed world--is reduced to the "miserable dilemma whether it is better to be a fool or a knave." As regards the moral faculty itself, Reid's statement coincides in the main with Price's; it is both intellectual and active, not merely perceiving the "rightness" or "moral obligation" of actions (which Reid conceives as a simple unanalysable relation between act and agent), but also impelling the will to the performance of what is seen to be right. Both thinkers hold that this perception of right and wrong in actions is accompanied by a perception of merit and demerit in agents, and also by a specific emotion; but whereas Price conceives this emotion chiefly as pleasure or pain, analogous to that produced in the mind by physical beauty or deformity, Reid regards it chiefly as benevolent affection, esteem and sympathy (or their opposites), for the virtuous (or vicious) agent. This "pleasurable good-will," when the moral judgment relates to a man's own actions, becomes "the testimony of a good conscience--the purest and most valuable of all human enjoyments." Reid is careful to observe that this moral faculty is not "innate" except in germ; it stands in need of "education, training, exercise (for which society is indispensable), and habit," in order to the attainment of moral truth. He does not with Price object to its being called the "moral sense," provided we understand by this a source not merely of feelings or notions, but of "ultimate truths." Here he omits to notice the important question whether the premises of moral reasoning are universal or individual judgments; as to which the use of the term "sense" seems rather to suggest the second alternative. Indeed, he seems himself quite undecided on this question; since, though he generally represents ethical method as deductive, he also speaks of the "original judgment that this action is right and that wrong."

The truth is that the construction of a scientific method of ethics is a matter of little practical moment to Reid. Thus, though he offers a list of first principles, by deduction from which these common opinions may be confirmed, he does not present it with any claim to completeness. Besides maxims relating to virtue in general,--such as (1) that there is a right and wrong in conduct, but (2) only in voluntary conduct, and that we ought (3) to take pains to learn our duty, and (4) fortify ourselves against temptations to deviate from it--Reid states five fundamental axioms. The first of these is merely the principle of rational self-love, "that we ought to prefer a greater to a lesser good, though more distinct, and a less evil to a greater,"--the mention of which seems rather inconsistent with Reid's distinct separation of the "moral faculty" from "self-love." The third is merely the general rule of benevolence stated in the somewhat vague Stoical formula, that "no one is born for himself only." The fourth, again, is the merely formal principle that "right and wrong must be the same to all in all circumstances," which belongs equally to all systems of objective morality; while the fifth prescribes the religious duty of "veneration or submission to God." Thus, the only principle which ever appears to offer definite guidance as to social duty is the second, "that so far as the intention of nature appears in the constitution of man, we ought to act according to that intention," the vagueness[38] of which is obvious. (For Reid's views on moral freedom see A. Bain, _Mental Science_, pp. 422, seq.)

Dugald Stewart.

A similar incompleteness in the statement of moral principles is found if we turn to Reid's disciple, Dugald Stewart, whose _Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man_ (1828) contains the general view of Butler and Reid, and to some extent that of Price,--expounded with more fulness and precision, but without important original additions or modifications. Stewart lays stress on the obligation of justice as distinct from benevolence; but his definition of justice represents it as essentially impartiality,--a virtue which (as was just now said of Reid's fourth principle) must equally find a place in the utilitarian or any other system that lays down universally applicable rules of morality. Afterwards, however, Stewart distinguishes "integrity or honesty" as a branch of justice concerned with the rights of other men, which form the subject of "natural jurisprudence." In this department he lays down the moral axiom "that the labourer is entitled to the fruit of his own labour" as the principle on which complete rights of property are founded; maintaining that occupancy alone would only confer a transient right of possession during use. The only other principles which he discusses are veracity and fidelity to promises, gratitude being treated as a natural instinct prompting to a particular kind of just actions.

Whewell.

It will be seen that neither Reid nor Stewart offers more than a very meagre and tentative contribution to that ethical science by which, as they maintain, the received rules of morality may be rationally deduced from self-evident first principles. A more ambitious attempt in the same direction was made by Whewell in his _Elements of Morality_ (1846). Whewell's general moral view differs from that of his Scottish predecessors chiefly in a point where we may trace the influence of Kant--viz. in his rejection of self-love as an independent rational and governing principle, and his consequent refusal to admit happiness, apart from duty, as a reasonable end for the individual. The moral reason, thus left in sole supremacy, is represented as enunciating five ultimate principles,--those of benevolence, justice, truth, purity and order. With a little straining these are made to correspond to five chief divisions of Jus,--personal security (benevolence being opposed to the ill-will that commonly causes personal injuries), property, contract, marriage and government; while the first, second and fourth, again, regulate respectively the three chief classes of human motives,--affections, mental desires and appetites. Thus the list, with the addition of two general principles, "earnestness" and "moral purpose," has a certain air of systematic completeness. When, however, we look closer, we find that the principle of order, or obedience to government, is not seriously intended to imply the political absolutism which it seems to express, and which English common sense emphatically repudiates; while the formula of justice is given in the tautological or perfectly indefinite proposition "that every man ought to have his own." Whewell, indeed, explains that this latter formula must be practically interpreted by positive law, though he inconsistently speaks as if it supplied a standard for judging laws to be right or wrong. The principle of purity, again, "that the lower parts of our nature ought to be subject to the higher," merely particularizes that supremacy of reason over non-rational impulses which is involved in the very notion of reasoned morality. Thus, in short, if we ask for a clear and definite fundamental intuition, distinct from regard for happiness, we find really nothing in Whewell's doctrine except the single rule of veracity (including fidelity to promises); and even of this the axiomatic character becomes evanescent on closer inspection, since it is not maintained that the rule is practically unqualified, but only that it is practically undesirable to formulate its qualifications.

Intuitional and utilitarian schools.

On the whole, it must be admitted that the doctrine of the intuitional school of the 18th and 19th centuries has been developed with less care and consistency than might have been expected, in its statement of the fundamental axioms or intuitively known premises of moral reasoning. And if the controversy which this school has conducted with utilitarianism had turned principally on the determination of the matter of duty, there can be little doubt that it would have been forced into more serious and systematic effort to define precisely and completely the principles and method on which we are to reason deductively to particular rules of conduct.[39] But in fact the difference between intuitionists and utilitarians as to the method of determining the particulars of the moral code was complicated with a more fundamental disagreement as to the very meaning of "moral obligation." This Paley and Bentham (after Locke) interpreted as merely the effect on the will of the pleasures or pains attached to the observance or violation of moral rules, combining with this the doctrine of Hutcheson that "general good" or "happiness" is the final end and standard of these rules; while they eliminated all vagueness from the notion of general happiness by defining it to consist in "excess of pleasure over pain"--pleasures and pains being regarded as "differing in nothing but continuance or intensity." The utilitarian system gained an attractive air of simplicity by thus using a single perfectly clear notion--pleasure and its negative quantity pain--to answer both the fundamental questions of mortals, "What is right?" and "Why should I do it?" But since there is no logical connexion between the answers that have thus come to be considered as one doctrine, this apparent unity and simplicity has really hidden fundamental disagreements, and caused no little confusion in ethical debate.

Paley.

In Paley's _Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy_[40] (1785), the link between general pleasure (the standard) and private pleasure or pain (the motive) is supplied by the conception of divine legislation. To be "obliged" is to be "urged by a violent motive resulting from the command of another"; in the case of moral obligation, the command proceeds from God, and the motive lies in the expectation of being rewarded and punished after this life. The commands of God are to be ascertained "from scripture and the light of nature combined." Paley, however, holds that scripture is given less to teach morality than to illustrate it by example and enforce it by new sanctions and greater certainty, and that the light of nature makes it clear that God wills the happiness of his creatures. Hence, his method in deciding moral questions is chiefly that of estimating the tendency of actions to promote or diminish the general happiness. To meet the obvious objections to this method, based on the immediate happiness caused by admitted crimes (such as "knocking a rich villain on the head"), he lays stress on the necessity of general rules in any kind of legislation;[41] while, by urging the importance of forming and maintaining good habits, he partly evades the difficulty of calculating the consequences of particular actions. In this way the utilitarian method is freed from the subversive tendencies which Butler and others had discerned in it; as used by Paley, it merely explains the current moral and jural distinctions, exhibits the obvious basis of expediency which supports most of the received rules of law and morality and furnishes a simple solution, in harmony with common sense, of some perplexing casuistical questions. Thus (e.g.) "natural rights" become rights of which the general observance would be useful apart from the institution of civil government; as distinguished from the no less binding "adventitious rights," the utility of which depends upon this institution. Private property is in this sense "natural" from its obvious advantages in encouraging labour, skill, preservative care; though actual rights of property depend on the general utility of conforming to the law of the land by which they are determined. We observe, however, that Paley's method is often mixed with reasonings that belong to an alien and older manner of thought; as when he supports the claim of the poor to charity by referring to the intention of mankind "when they agreed to a separation of the common fund," or when he infers that monogamy is a part of the divine design from the equal numbers of males and females born. In other cases his statement of utilitarian considerations is fragmentary and unmethodical, and tends to degenerate into loose exhortation on rather trite topics.

Bentham and his school.

In unity, consistency and thoroughness of method, Bentham's utilitarianism has a decided superiority over Paley's. He considers actions solely in respect of their pleasurable and painful consequences, expected or actual; and he recognizes the need of making a systematic register of these consequences, free from the influences of common moral opinion, as expressed in the "eulogistic" and "dyslogistic" terms in ordinary use. Further, the effects that he estimates are all of a definite, palpable, empirically ascertainable quality; they are such pleasures and pains as most men feel and all can observe, so that all his political or moral inferences lie open at every point to the test of practical experience. Every one, it would seem, can tell what value he sets on the pleasures of alimentation, sex, the senses generally, wealth, power, curiosity, sympathy, antipathy (malevolence), the goodwill of individuals or of society at large, and on the corresponding pains, as well as the pains of labour and organic disorders;[42] and can guess the rate at which they are valued by others; therefore if it be once granted that all actions are determined by pleasures and pains, and are to be tried by the same standard, the art of legislation and private conduct is apparently placed on an empirical, basis. Bentham, no doubt, seems to go beyond the limits of experience proper in recognizing "religious" pains and pleasures in his fourfold division of sanctions, side by side with the "physical," "political," and "moral" or "social"; but the truth is that he does not seriously take account of them, except in so far as religious hopes and fears are motives actually operating, which therefore admit of being observed and measured as much as any other motives. He does not himself use the will of an omnipotent and benevolent being as a means of logically connecting individual and general happiness. He thus undoubtedly simplifies his system, and avoids the doubtful inferences from nature and Scripture in which Paley's position is involved; but this gain is dearly purchased. For in answer to the question that immediately arises, How then are the sanctions of the moral rules which it will most conduce to the general happiness for men to observe, shown to be always adequate in the case of all the individuals whose observance is required? he is obliged to admit that "the only interests which a man is at all times sure to find adequate motives for consulting are his own." Indeed, in many parts of his work, in the department of legislative and constitutional theory, it is rather assumed that the interests of some men will continually conflict with those of their fellows, unless we alter the balance of prudential calculation by a readjustment of penalties. But on this assumption a system of private conduct on utilitarian principles cannot be constructed until legislative and constitutional reform has been perfected. And, in fact, "private ethics," as conceived by Bentham, does not exactly expound such a system; but rather exhibits the coincidence, _so far as it extends_, between private and general happiness, in that part of each man's conduct that lies beyond the range of useful legislation. It was not his place, as a practical philanthropist, to dwell on the defects in this coincidence;[43] and since what men generally expect from a moralist is a completely reasoned account of what they ought to do, it is not surprising that some of Bentham's disciples should have either ignored or endeavoured to supply the gap in his system. One section of the school even maintained it to be a cardinal doctrine of utilitarianism that a man always gains his own greatest happiness by promoting that of others; another section, represented by John Austin, apparently returned to Paley's position, and treated utilitarian morality[44] as a code of divine legislation; others, with Grote, are content to abate the severity of the claims made by "general happiness" on the individual, and to consider utilitarian duty as practically limited by reciprocity; while on the opposite side an unqualified subordination of private to general happiness was advocated by J.S. Mill, who did more than any other member of the school to spread and popularize utilitarianism in ethics and politics.

Varieties of utilitarian doctrine.

J.S. Mill.

The fact is that there are several different ways in which a utilitarian system of morality may be used, without deciding whether the sanctions attached to it are always adequate. (1) It may be presented as practical guidance to all who choose "general good" as their ultimate end, whether they do so on religious grounds, or through the predominance in their minds of impartial sympathy, or because their conscience acts in harmony with utilitarian principles, or for any combination of these or any other reasons; or (2) it may be offered as a code to be obeyed not absolutely, but only so far as the coincidence of private and general interest may in any case be judged to extend; or again (3) it may be proposed as a standard by which men may reasonably agree to praise and blame the conduct of others, even though they may not always think fit to act on it. We may regard morality as a kind of supplementary legislation, supported by public opinion, which we may expect the public, when duly enlightened, to frame in accordance with the public interest. Still, even from this point of view, which is that of the legislator or social reformer rather than the moral philosopher, our code of duty must be greatly influenced by our estimate of the degrees in which men are normally influenced by self-regard (in its ordinary sense of regard for interests not sympathetic) and by sympathy or benevolence, and of the range within which sympathy may be expected to be generally effective. Thus, for example, the moral standard for which a utilitarian will reasonably endeavour to gain the support of public opinion must be essentially different in quality, according as he holds with Bentham that nothing but self-regard will "serve for diet," though "for a dessert benevolence is a very valuable addition"; or with J.S. Mill that disinterested public spirit should be the prominent motive in the performance of all socially useful work, and that even hygienic precepts should be inculcated, not chiefly on grounds of prudence, but because "by squandering our health we disable ourselves from rendering services to our fellow-creatures."

Not less important is the interval that separates Bentham's polemical attitude towards the moral sense from Mill's conciliatory position, that "the mind is not in a state conformable to utility unless it loves virtue as a thing desirable in itself." Such love of virtue Mill holds to be in a sense natural, though not an ultimate and inexplicable fact of human nature; it is to be explained by the "Law of Association" of feelings and ideas, through which objects originally desired as a means to some further end come to be directly pleasant or desirable. Thus, the miser first sought money as a means to comfort, but ends by sacrificing comfort to money; and similarly though the first promptings to justice (or any other virtue) spring from the non-moral pleasures gained or pains avoided by it, through the link formed by repeated virtuous acts the performance of them ultimately comes to have that immediate satisfaction attached to it which we distinguished as moral. Indeed, the acquired tendency to virtuous conduct may become so strong that the habit of willing it may continue, "even when the reward which the virtuous man receives from the consciousness of well-doing is anything but an equivalent for the sufferings he undergoes or the wishes he may have to renounce." It is thus that the before-mentioned self-sacrifice of the moral hero is conceived by Mill to be possible and actual. The moral sentiments, on this view, are not phases of self-love as Hobbes held; nor can they be directly identified with sympathy, either in Hume's way or in Adam Smith's; in fact, though apparently simple they are really derived in a complex manner from self-love and sympathy combined with more primitive impulses. Justice (e.g.) is regarded by Mill as essentially resentment moralized by enlarged sympathy and intelligent self-interest; what we mean by injustice is harm done to an assignable individual by a breach of some rule for which we desire the violator to be punished, for the sake both of the person injured and of society at large, including ourselves. As regards moral sentiments generally, the view suggested by Mill is more definitely given by the chief living representative of the associationist school, Alexander Bain; by whom the distinctive characteristics of conscience are traced to "education under government or authority," though prudence, disinterested sympathy and other emotions combine to swell the mass of feeling vaguely denoted by the term moral. The combination of antecedents is somewhat differently given by different writers; but all agree in representing the conscience of any individual as naturally correlated to the interests of the community of which he is a member, and thus a natural ally in enforcing utilitarian rules, or even a valuable guide when utilitarian calculations are difficult and uncertain.

Association and evolution.

This substitution of hypothetical history for direct analysis of the moral sense is really older than the utilitarianism of Paley and Bentham, which it has so profoundly modified. The effects of association in modifying mental phenomena were noticed by Locke, and made a cardinal point in the metaphysic of Hume; who also referred to the principle slightly in his account of justice and other "artificial" virtues. Some years earlier, Gay,[45] admitting Hutcheson's proof of the actual disinterestedness of moral and benevolent impulses, had maintained that these (like the desires of knowledge or fame, the delight of reading, hunting and planting, &c.) were derived from self-love by "the power of association." But a thorough and systematic application of the principle to ethical psychology is first found in Hartley's _Observations on Man_ (1748). Hartley, too, was the first to conceive association as producing, instead of mere cohesion of mental phenomena, a quasi-chemical combination of these into a compound apparently different from its elements. He shows elaborately how the pleasures and pains of "imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense" are developed out of the elementary pleasures and pains of sensation; by the coalescence into really complex but apparently single ideas of the "miniatures" or faint feelings which the repetition of sensations contemporaneously or in immediate succession tends to produce in cohering groups. His theory assumes the correspondence of mind and body, and is applied _pari passu_ to the formation of ideas from sensations, and of "compound vibratiuncules in the medullary substance" from the original vibrations that arise in the organ of sense.[46] The same general view was afterwards developed with much vigour and clearness on the psychical side alone by James Mill in his _Analysis of the Human Mind_. The whole theory has been persistently controverted by writers of the intuitional school, who (unlike Hartley) have usually thought that this derivation of moral sentiments from more primitive feelings would be detrimental to the authority of the former. The chief argument against this theory has been based on the early period at which these sentiments are manifested by children, which hardly allows time for association to produce the effects ascribed to it. This argument has been met in recent times by the application to mind of the physiological theory of heredity, according to which changes produced in the mind (brain) of a parent, by association of ideas or otherwise, tend to be inherited by his offspring; so that the development of the moral sense or any other faculty or susceptibility of existing man may be hypothetically carried back into the prehistoric life of the human race, without any change in the manner of derivation supposed. At present, however, the theory of heredity is usually held in conjunction with Darwin's theory of natural selection; according to which different kinds of living things in the course of a series of generations come gradually to be endowed with organs, faculties and habits tending to the preservation of the individual or species under the conditions of life in which it is placed. Thus we have a new zoological factor in the history of the moral sentiments; which, though in no way opposed to the older psychological theory of their formation through coalescence of more primitive feelings, must yet be conceived as controlling and modifying the effects of the law of association by preventing the formation of sentiments other than those tending to the preservation of human life. The influence of the Darwinian theory, moreover, has extended from historical psychology to ethics, tending to substitute "preservation of the race under its conditions of existence" for "happiness" as the ultimate end and standard of virtue.

Free-will.

Before concluding this sketch of the development of English ethical thought from Hobbes to the thinkers of the 19th century, it will be well to notice briefly the views held by different moralists on the question of free-will,--so far, that is, as they have been put forward as ethically important. We must first distinguish three meanings in which "freedom" is attributed to the will or "inner self" of a human being, viz. (1) the general power of choosing among different alternatives of action without a motive, or against the resultant force of conflicting motives; (2) the power of choice between the promptings of reason and those of appetites (or other non-rational impulses) when the latter conflict with reason; (3) merely the quality of acting rationally in spite of conflicting impulses, however strong, the _non posse peccare_ of the medieval theologians.[47] It is obvious that "freedom" in this third sense is in no way incompatible with complete determination; and, indeed, is rather an ideal state after which the moral agent ought to aspire than a property which the human will can be said to possess. In the first sense, again, as distinct from the second, the assertion of "freedom" has no ethical significance, except in so far as it introduces a general uncertainty into all our inferences respecting human conduct. Even in the second sense it hardly seems that the freedom of a man's will can be an element to be considered in examining what it is right or best for him to do (though of course the clearest convictions of duty will be fruitless if a man has not sufficient self-control to enable him to act on them); it is rather when we ask whether it is just to punish him for wrong-doing that it seems important to know whether he could have done otherwise. But in spite of the strong interest taken in the theological aspect of this question by the Protestant divines of the 17th century, it does not appear that English moralists from Hobbes to Hume laid any stress on the relation of free-will either to duty generally or to justice in particular. Neither the doctrine of Hobbes, that deliberation is a mere alternation of competing desires, voluntary action immediately following the "last appetite," nor the hardly less decided Determinism of Locke, who held that the will is always moved by the greatest present uneasiness, appeared to either author to require any reconciliation with the belief in human responsibility. Even in Clarke's system, where Indeterminism is no doubt a cardinal notion, its importance is metaphysical rather than ethical; Clarke's view being that the apparently arbitrary particularity in the constitution of the cosmos is really only explicable by reference to creative free-will. In the ethical discussion of Shaftesbury and sentimental moralists generally this question drops naturally out of sight; and the cautious Butler tries to exclude its perplexities as far as possible from the philosophy of practice. But since the reaction, led by Price and Reid, against the manner of philosophizing that had culminated in Hume, free-will has been generally maintained by the intuitional school to be an essential point of ethics; and, in fact, it is naturally connected with the judgment of good and ill desert which these writers give as an essential element in their analysis of the moral consciousness. An irresistible motive, it is forcibly said, palliates or takes away guilt; no one can blame himself for yielding to necessity, and no one can properly be punished for what he could not have prevented. In answer to this argument some necessarians have admitted that punishment can be legitimate only if it be beneficial to the person punished; others, again, have held that the lawful use of force is to restrain lawless force; but most of those who reject free-will defend punishment on the ground of its utility in deterring others from crime, as well as in correcting or restraining the criminal on whom it falls.

French influence on English ethics.

Helvetius.

In the preceding sketch we have traced the course of English ethical speculation without bringing it into relation with contemporary European thought on the same subject. And in fact almost all the systems described, from Hobbes downward, have been of essentially native growth, showing hardly any traces of foreign influence. We may observe that ethics is the only department in which this result appears. The physics and psychology of Descartes were much studied in England, and his metaphysical system was certainly the most important antecedent of Locke's; but Descartes hardly touched ethics proper. So again the controversy that Clarke conducted with Spinoza, and afterwards with Leibnitz, was entirely confined to the metaphysical region. Catholic France was a school for Englishmen in many subjects, but not in morality; the great struggle between Jansenists and Jesuits had a very remote interest for them. It was not till near the close of the 18th century that the impress of the French revolutionary philosophy began to manifest itself in England; and even then its influence was mostly political rather than ethical. It is striking to observe how even in the case of writers such as Godwin, who were most powerfully affected by the French political movement, the moral basis, on which the new social order of rational and equal freedom is constructed, is almost entirely of native origin; even when the tone and spirit are French, the forms of thought and manner of reasoning are still purely English. In the derivation of Benthamism alone--which, it may be observed, first becomes widely known in the French paraphrase of Dumont--an important element is supplied by the works of a French writer, Helvetius; as Bentham himself was fully conscious. It was from Helvetius that he learnt that, men being universally and solely governed by self-love, the so-called moral judgments are really the common judgments of any society as to its common interests; that it is therefore futile on the one hand to propose any standard of virtue, except that of conduciveness to general happiness, and on the other hand useless merely to lecture men on duty and scold them for vice; that the moralist's proper function is rather to exhibit the coincidence of virtue with private happiness; that, accordingly, though nature has bound men's interests together in many ways, and education by developing sympathy and the habit of mutual help may much extend the connexion, still the most effective moralist is the legislator, who by acting on self-love through legal sanctions may mould human conduct as he chooses. These few simple doctrines give the ground plan of Bentham's indefatigable and lifelong labours.

Comte.

So again, in the modified Benthamism which the persuasive exposition of J.S. Mill afterwards made popular in England, the influence of Auguste Comte (_Philosophie positive_, 1829-1842, and _Systeme de politique positive_, 1851-1854) appears as the chief modifying element. This influence, so far as it has affected moral as distinct from political speculation, has been exercised primarily through the general conception of human progress; which, in Comte's view, consists in the ever-growing preponderance of the distinctively human attributes over the purely animal, social feelings being ranked highest among human attributes, and highest of all the most universalized phase of human affection, the devotion to humanity as a whole. Accordingly, it is the development of benevolence in man, and of the habit of "living for others," which Comte takes as the ultimate aim and standard of practice, rather than the mere increase of happiness. He holds, indeed, that the two are inseparable, and that the more _altruistic_ any man's sentiments and habits of action can be made, the greater will be the happiness enjoyed by himself as well as by others. But he does not seriously trouble himself to argue with egoism, or to weigh carefully the amount of happiness that might be generally attained by the satisfaction of egoistic propensities duly regulated; a supreme unquestioning self-devotion, in which all personal calculations are suppressed, is an essential feature of his moral ideal. Such a view is almost diametrically opposed to Bentham's conception of normal human existence; the newer utilitarianism of Mill represents an endeavour to find the right middle path between the two extremes.

It is to be observed that, in Comte's view, devotion to humanity is the principle not merely of morality, but of religion; i.e. it should not merely be practically predominant, but should be manifested and sustained by regular and partly symbolical forms of expression, private and public. This side of Comte's system, however, and the details of his ideal reconstruction of society, in which this religion plays an important part, have had but little influence either in England or elsewhere. It is more important to notice the general effect of his philosophy on the method of determining the particulars of morality as well as of law (as it ought to be). In the utilitarianism of Paley and Bentham the proper rules of conduct, moral and legal, are determined by comparing the imaginary consequences of different modes of regulation on men and women, conceived as specimens of a substantially uniform and unchanging type. It is true that Bentham expressly recognizes the varying influences of climate, race, religion, government, as considerations which it is important for the legislator to take into account; but his own work of social construction was almost entirely independent of such considerations, and his school generally appear to have been convinced of their competence to solve all important ethical and political questions for human beings of all ages and countries, without regard to their specific differences. But in the Comtian conception of social science, of which ethics and politics are the practical application, the knowledge of the laws of the evolution of society is of fundamental and continually increasing importance; humanity is regarded as having passed through a series of stages, in each of which a somewhat different set of laws and institutions, customs and habits, is normal and appropriate. Thus present man is a being that can only be understood through a knowledge of his past history; and any effort to construct for him a moral and political ideal, by a purely abstract and unhistorical method, must necessarily be futile; whatever modifications may at any time be desirable in positive law and morality can only be determined by the aid of "social dynamics." This view extends far beyond the limits of Comte's special school or sect, and has been widely accepted.

German influence on English ethics.

When we turn from French philosophy to German, we find the influence of the latter on English ethical thought almost insignificant until a very recent period. In the 17th century, indeed, the treatise of Pufendorf on the _Law of Nature_, in which the general view of Grotius was restated with modifications, partly designed to effect a compromise with the doctrine of Hobbes, seems to have been a good deal read at Oxford and elsewhere. Locke includes it among the books necessary to the complete education of a gentleman. But the subsequent development of the theory of conduct in Germany dropped almost entirely out of the cognizance of Englishmen; even the long dominant system of Wolff (d. 1754) was hardly known. Nor had Kant any serious influence in England until the second quarter of the 19th century. We find, however, distinct traces of Kantian influence in Whewell and other writers of the intuitional school, and at a later date it became so strong that its importance on subsequent ethical thought can scarcely be over-estimated.

Kant.

Categorical Imperative.

The English moralist with whom Kant has most affinity is Price; in fact, Kantism, in the ethical thought of modern Europe, holds a place somewhat analogous to that formerly occupied by the teaching of Price and Reid among English moralists. Kant, like Price and Reid, holds that man as a rational being is unconditionally bound to conform to a certain rule of right, or "categorical imperative" of reason. Like Price he holds that an action is not good unless done from a good motive, and that this motive must be essentially different from natural inclination of any kind; duty, to be duty, must be done for duty's sake; and he argues, with more subtlety than Price or Reid, that though a virtuous act is no doubt pleasant to the virtuous agent, and any violation of duty painful, this moral pleasure (or pain) cannot strictly be the motive to the act, because it follows instead of preceding the recognition of our obligation to do it.[48] With Price, again, he holds that rightness of intention and motive is not only an indispensable condition or element of the rightness of an action, but actually the sole determinant of its moral worth; but with more philosophical consistency he draws the inference--of which the English moralist does not seem to have dreamt--that there can be no separate rational principles for determining the "material" rightness of conduct, as distinct from its "formal" rightness; and therefore that all rules of duty, so far as universally binding, must admit of being exhibited as applications of the one general principle that duty ought to be done for duty's sake. This deduction is the most original part of Kant's doctrine. The dictates of reason, he points out, must necessarily be addressed to all rational beings as such; hence, my intention cannot be right unless I am prepared to will the principle on which I act to be a universal law. He considers that this fundamental rule or imperative "act on a maxim which thou canst will to be law universal" supplies a sufficient criterion for determining particular duties in all cases. The rule excludes wrong conduct with two degrees of stringency. Some offences, such as making promises with the intention of breaking them, we cannot even conceive universalized; as soon as every one broke promises no one would care to have promises made to him. Other maxims, such as that of leaving persons in distress to shift for themselves, we can easily conceive to be universal laws, but we cannot without contradiction will them to be such; for when we are ourselves in distress we cannot help desiring that others should help us.

Another important peculiarity of Kant's doctrine is his development of the connexion between duty and free-will. He holds that it is through our moral consciousness that we know that we are free; in the cognition that I ought to do what is right because it is right and not because I like it, it is implied that this purely rational volition is possible; that my action can be determined, not "mechanically," through the necessary operation of the natural stimuli of pleasurable and painful feelings, but in accordance with the laws of my true, reasonable self. The realization of reason, or of human wills so far as rational, thus presents itself as the absolute end of duty; and we get, as a new form of the fundamental practical rule, "act so as to treat humanity, in thyself or any other, as an end always, and never as a means only." We may observe, too, that the notion of freedom connects ethics with jurisprudence in a simple and striking manner. The fundamental aim of jurisprudence is to realize external freedom by removing the hindrances imposed on each one's free action through the interferences of other wills. Ethics shows how to realize internal freedom by resolutely pursuing rational ends in opposition to those of natural inclination. If we ask what precisely are the ends of reason, Kant's proposition that "all rational beings as such are ends in themselves for every rational being" hardly gives a clear answer. It might be interpreted to mean that the result to be practically sought is simply the development of the rationality of all rational beings--such as men--whom we find to be as yet imperfectly rational. But this is not Kant's view. He holds, indeed, that each man should aim at making himself the most perfect possible instrument of reason; but he expressly denies that the perfection of others can be similarly prescribed as an end to each. It is, he says, "a contradiction to regard myself as in duty bound to promote the perfection of another, ... a contradiction to make it a duty for me to do something for another which no other but himself can do." In what practical sense, then, am I to make other rational beings my ends? Kant's answer is that what each is to aim at in the case of others is not Perfection, but Happiness, i.e. to help them to attain those purely subjective ends that are determined for each not by reason, but by natural inclination. He explains also that to seek one's own happiness cannot be prescribed as a duty, because it is an end to which every man is inevitably impelled by natural inclination: but that just because each inevitably desires his own happiness, and therefore desires that others should assist him in time of need, he is bound to make the happiness of others his ethical end, since he cannot _morally_ demand aid from others, without accepting the obligation of aiding them in like case. The exclusion of private happiness from the ends at which it is a duty to aim contrasts strikingly with the view of Butler and Reid, that man, as a rational being, is under a "manifest obligation" to seek his own interest. The difference, however, is not really so great as it seems; since in another part of his system Kant fully recognizes the reasonableness of the individual's regard for his own happiness. Though duty, in his view, excludes regard for private happiness, the _summum bonum_ is not duty alone, but happiness combined with moral worth; the demand for happiness as the reward of duty is so essentially reasonable that we must postulate a universal connexion between the two as the order of the universe; indeed, the practical necessity of this postulate is the only adequate rational ground that we have for believing in the existence of God.

Hegel.

Before the ethics of Kant had begun to be seriously studied in England, the rapid and remarkable development of metaphysical view and method of which the three chief stages are represented by Fichte, Schelling and Hegel respectively had already taken place; and the system of the latter was occupying the most prominent position in the philosophical thought of Germany.[49] Hegel's ethical doctrine (expounded chiefly in his _Philosophie des Rechts_, 1821) shows a close affinity, and also a striking contrast, to Kant's. He holds, with Kant, that duty or good conduct consists in the conscious realization of the free reasonable will, which is essentially the same in all rational beings. But in Kant's view the universal content of this will is only given in the formal condition of "only acting as one can desire all to act," to be subjectively applied by each rational agent to his own volition; whereas Hegel conceives the universal will as objectively presented to each man in the laws, institutions and customary morality of the community of which he is a member. Thus, in his view, not merely natural inclinations towards pleasures, or the desires for selfish happiness, require to be morally resisted; but even the prompting of the individual's conscience, the impulse to do what seems to him right, if it comes into conflict with the common sense of his community. It is true that Hegel regards the conscious effort to realize one's own conception of good as a higher stage of moral development than the mere conformity to the jural rules establishing property, maintaining contract and allotting punishment to crime, in which the universal will is first expressed; since in such conformity this will is only accomplished accidentally by the outward concurrence of individual wills, and is not essentially realized in any of them. He holds, however, that this conscientious effort is self-deceived and futile, is even the very root of moral evil, except it attains its realization in harmony with the objective social relations in which the individual finds himself placed. Of these relations the first grade is constituted by the family, the second by civil society, and the third by the state, the organization of which is the highest manifestation of universal reason in the sphere of practice.

Hegelianism appears as a distinct element in modern English ethical thought; but the direct influence of Hegel's system is perhaps less important than that indirectly exercised through the powerful stimulus which it has given to the study of the historical development of human thought and human society. According to Hegel, the essence of the universe is a process of thought from the abstract to the concrete; and a right understanding of this process gives the key for interpreting the evolution in time of European philosophy. So again, in his view, the history of mankind is a history of the necessary development of the free spirit through the different forms of political organization: the first being that of the Oriental monarchy, in which freedom belongs to the monarch only; the second, that of the Graeco-Roman republics, in which a select body of free citizens is sustained on a basis of slavery; while finally in the modern societies, sprung from the Teutonic invasion of the decaying Roman empire, freedom is recognized as the natural right of all members of the community. The effect of the lectures (posthumously edited) in which Hegel's "Philosophy of History" and "History of Philosophy" were expounded, has extended far beyond the limits of his special school; indeed, the predominance of the historical method in all departments of the theory of practice is not a little due to their influence. (H. S.; X.)

D. _Ethics since 1879._--Ethical controversies, like most other speculative disputes, have, during the latter part of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, centred round Darwinian theories. The chief characteristic of English moral philosophy in its previous history has been its comparative isolation from great movements, sometimes contemporary movements, of philosophical or scientific thought. Ethics in England no less than on the continent of Europe suffered until the time of Bacon from the excessive domination of theological dogma and the traditional scholastic and Aristotelian philosophy. But the moral philosophy of the 18th century, freed from scholastic trammels, was a genuine native product, arising out of the real problem of conduct and reaching its conclusions, at least ostensibly, by an analysis of, and an appeal to, the facts of conduct and the nature of morality. Even at the beginning of the 19th century, when the main interest of writers who belonged to the Utilitarian school was mainly political, the influence of political theories upon contemporary moral philosophy was upon the whole an influence of which the moral philosophers themselves were unconscious; and from the nature of things moral and political philosophy have a tendency to become one and the same inquiry. Mill, it is true, and Comte both encouraged the idea that society and conduct alike were susceptible of strictly scientific investigation. But the attempt not only to treat ethics scientifically, but actually to subordinate the principles of conduct to the principles of existing biological science or group of sciences biological in character, was reserved for post-Darwinian moral philosophers. That attempt has not, in the opinion of the majority of critics, been successful, and perhaps what is most permanent in the contribution of modern times to ethical theory will ultimately be attributed to philosophers antagonistic to evolutionary ethics. Nevertheless the application of the historical method to inquiries concerning the facts of morality and the moral life--itself part of the great movement of thought to which Darwin gave the chief impetus--has caused moral problems to be presented in a novel aspect; while the influence of Darwinism upon studies which have considerable bearing upon ethics, e.g. anthropology or the study of comparative religion, has been incalculable.

The other great movement in modern moral philosophy due to the influence of German, and especially Hegelian, idealism followed naturally for the most part from the revival of interest in metaphysics noticeable in the latter half of the 19th century.

But metaphysical systems of ethics are no novelty even in England, and, while the increased interest in ultimate issues of philosophy has enormously deepened and widened men's appreciation of moral problems and the issues involved in conduct, the actual advance in ethical theory produced by such speculations has been comparatively slight. What is of lasting importance is the re-affirmation upon metaphysical grounds of the right of the moral consciousness to state and solve its own difficulties, and the successful repulsion of the claims of particular sciences such as biology to include the sphere of conduct within their scope and methods. And both evolutionary and idealistic ethics agree in repudiating the standpoint of narrow individualism, alike insist upon the necessity of regarding the self as social in character, and regard the end of moral progress as only realizable in a perfect society.

It is perhaps too much to hope that the long-continued controversy between hedonists and anti-hedonists has been finally settled. But certainly few modern moral philosophers would be found in the present day ready to defend the crudities of hedonistic psychology as they appear in Bentham and Mill. A certain common agreement has been reached concerning the impossibility of regarding pleasure as the sole motive criterion and end of moral action, though different opinions still prevail as to the place occupied by pleasure in the summum bonum, and the possibility of a hedonistic calculus.

The failure of "laissez-faire" individualism in politics to produce that common prosperity and happiness which its advocates hoped for caused men to question the egoistic basis upon which its ethical counterpart was constructed. Similarly the comparative failure of science to satisfy men's aspirations alike in knowledge and, so far as the happiness of the masses is concerned, in practice has been largely instrumental in producing that revolt against material prosperity as the end of conduct which is characteristic of idealist moral philosophy. To this revolt, and to the general tendency to find the principle of morality in an ideal good present to the consciousness of all persons capable of acting morally, the widespread recognition of reason as the ultimate court of appeal alike in religion or politics, and latterly in economics also, has no doubt contributed largely. In the main the appeal to reason has followed the traditional course of such movements in ethics, and has reaffirmed in the light of fuller reflection the moral principles implicit in the ordinary moral consciousness. It is only in the present day that there are noticeable signs of dissatisfaction with current morality itself, and a tendency to substitute or advocate a new morality based ostensibly upon conclusions derived from the facts of scientific observation.

Darwin.

Darwin himself seems never to have questioned, in the sceptical direction in which his followers have applied his principles, the absolute character of moral obligation. What interested him chiefly, in so far as he made a study of morality, was the development of moral conduct in its preliminary stages. He was principally concerned to show that in morality, as in other departments of human life, it was not necessary to postulate a complete and abrupt gap between human and merely animal existence, but that the instincts and habits which contribute to survival in the struggle for existence among animals develop into moral qualities which have a similar value for the preservation of human and social life. Regarding the social tendency as originally itself an instinct developed out of parental or filial affection, he seems to suggest that natural selection, which was the chief cause of its development in the earlier stages, may very probably influence the transition from purely tribal and social morality into morality in its later and more complex forms. But he admits that natural selection is not necessarily the only cause, and he refrains from identifying the fully developed morality of civilized nations with the "social instinct." Moreover, he recognizes that qualities, e.g. loyalty and sympathy, which may have been of great service to the tribe in its primitive struggle for existence, may become a positive hindrance to physical efficiency (leading as they do to the preservation of the unfit) at a later stage. Nevertheless to check our sympathy would lead to the "deterioration of the noblest part of our nature," and the question, which is obviously of vital importance, whether we should obey the dictates of reason, which would urge us only to such conduct as is conducive to natural selection, or remain faithful to the noblest part of our nature at the expense of reason, he leaves unsolved.

Spencer.

It was in Herbert Spencer, the triumphant "buccinator novi temporis," that the advocates of evolutionary ethics found their protagonist. Spencer looked to ideas derived from the biological sciences to provide a solution of all the enigmas of morality, as of most other departments of life; and he conceived it "to be the business of moral science to deduce from the laws of life and the conditions of existence what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce happiness and what kinds to produce unhappiness." It is clear, therefore, that any moral science which is to be of value must wait until the "laws of life" and "conditions of existence" have been satisfactorily determined, presumably by biology and the allied sciences; and there are few more melancholy instances of failure in philosophy than the paucity of the actual results attained by Spencer in his lifetime in his application of the so-called laws of evolution to human conduct--a failure recognized by Spencer himself. His own contribution to ethics was vitiated at the outset by the fact that he never shook himself free from the trammels of the philosophy which his own system was intended to supersede. He began by disclaiming any affinity to Utilitarianism on the part of his own philosophy. He pointed out that the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number is a principle without any definite meaning, since men are nowhere unanimous in their standard of happiness, but regard the conception of happiness rather as a problem to be solved than a test to be applied. Universal happiness would require omniscience to legislate for it and the "normal" or, as some would say, "perfect" man to desire it; neither of these conditions of its realization is at present in existence. Further, the principle that "everybody is to count for one, nobody for more than one," is equally unsatisfactory. It may be taken to imply that the useless and the criminal should be entitled to as much happiness as the useful and the virtuous. While it gives no rule for private as distinct from public conduct, it provides no real guidance for the legislator. For neither happiness, nor the concrete means to happiness, nor finally the conditions of its realization can be distributed; and in the end "not general happiness becomes the ethical standard by which legislative action is to be guided, but universal justice." Yet the implications of this latter conclusion Spencer never fully thought out. He accepted bodily without farther questioning the hedonistic psychology by which the Utilitarians sought to justify their theory while he rejected the theory itself. Good, e.g. defined by him "as conduct conducive to life," is also further defined as that which is "conducive to a surplus of pleasures over pains." Happiness, again, is always regarded as consisting in feeling, ultimately in pleasant feeling, and there is no attempt to apply the same principles of criticism which he had successfully applied to the Utilitarians' "happiness" to the conception of "pleasure." And, though he maintains as against the Utilitarians the existence of certain fundamental moral intuitions which have come to be quite independent of any present conscious experience of their utility, he yet holds that they are the results of accumulated racial experiences gradually organized and inherited. Finally, side by side with a theory of the nature of moral obligation thus fundamentally empirical and a posteriori in its outlook, he maintains in his account of justice the existence of the idea of justice as distinct from a mere sentiment, carrying with it an a priori belief in its existence and identical in its a priori and intuitive character with the ultimate criterion of Utilitarianism itself. The fact is that any close philosophical analysis of Spencer's system of ethics can only result in the discovery of a multitude of mutually conflicting and for the most part logically untenable theories. It is frequently impossible to discover whether he wishes by an appeal to evolutionary principles to reinforce the sanctions and emphasize the absolute character of the traditional morality which in the main he accepts without question from the current opinions about conduct of his age, or whether he wishes to discredit and disprove the validity of that morality in order to substitute by the aid of the biological sciences a new ethical code. The argument, for instance, that intuitive and a priori beliefs gain their absolute character from the fact that they are the result of continued transmission and accumulation of past nervous modifications in the history of the race would, if taken seriously, lead us to the belief that ultimate ethical sanctions are to be sought, not by an appeal to the moral consciousness, but by the investigation of brain tissue and the relation of man's bodily organism to its environment. Yet such a view would be totally at variance with much that Spencer says (especially in his treatment of justice) concerning the trustworthiness and inevitable character of men's constant appeal to the intuitions of their moral consciousness. Moreover, the very fact itself of the possibility of inheriting acquired moral characteristics is still hotly debated by those biologists with whom should rest the ultimate verdict. Again, the argument that "conduct is good or bad according as its total effects are pleasurable or painful," and that ultimately "pleasure-giving acts are life-sustaining acts," seems to involve Spencer in a multitude of unverified assumptions and contradictory theories. In the first place it is never clear whether Spencer regards the fact that a particular course of conduct is accompanied by a feeling of pleasure as a test of its life-preserving and life-sustaining character, or whether he wishes us to use as our criterion of what is pleasant in conduct the fact that the conduct in question seems conducive to the continued existence of man's organic life. He apparently passes from one criterion to the other as best suits the purpose of the moment. He does not prove the coincidence of life-sustaining and pleasant activities. He assumes throughout that the pleasant is the opposite of what is painful, and seems unaware of the difficulty of determining by means of terms so highly abstract the specific character of moral action. We find in his theory no satisfactory attempt to discriminate between the pleasure aimed at by the altruist and the immediate pleasure of egoistic action. Similarly he disregards the distinction between pleasant feeling as an immediate motive of conduct and the idea of the attainment of future pleasure whether by the race or by the individual. Spencer is involved in effect in most of the confusions and contradictions of hedonistic psychology.

Nor is his attempt to construct a scientific criterion out of data derived from the biological sciences productive of satisfactory results. He is hampered by a distinction between "absolute" and "relative" ethics definitely formulated in the last two chapters of The _Data of Ethics_. Absolute ethics would deal with such laws as would regulate the conduct of ideal man in an ideal society, i.e. a society where conduct has reached the stage of complete adjustment to the needs of social life. Relative ethics, on the other hand, is concerned only with such conduct as is advantageous for that society which has not yet reached the end of complete adaptation to its environment, i.e. which is at present imperfect. It is hardly necessary to say that Spencer does not tell us how to bring the two ethical systems into correlation. And the actual criteria of conduct derived from biological considerations are almost ludicrously inadequate. Conduct, e.g., is said to be more moral in proportion as it exhibits a tendency on the part of the individual or society to become more "definite," "coherent" and "heterogeneous." Or, again, we should recognize as a test of the "authoritative" character of moral ideas or feelings the fact that they are complex and representative, referring to a remote rather than to a proximate good, remembering the while that "the sense of duty is transitory, and will diminish as fast as moralization increases." In fact, no acceptable scientific criterion emerges, and the outcome of Spencer's attempt to ascertain the laws of life and the conditions of existence is either a restatement of the dictates of the moral consciousness in vague and cumbrous quasi-scientific phraseology, or the substitution of the meaningless test of "survivability" as a standard of perfection for the usual and intelligible standards of "good" and "right."

Leslie Stephen.

A similar criticism might fairly be passed upon the majority of philosophers who approach ethics from the standpoint of evolution. Sir Leslie Stephen, for instance, wishes to substitute the conception of "social health" for that of universal happiness, and considers that the conditions of social health are to be discovered by an examination of the "social organism" or of "social tissue," the laws of which can be studied apart from those laws by which the individuals composing society regulate their conduct. "The social evolution means the evolution of a strong social tissue; the best type is the type implied by the strongest tissue." But on the important question as to what constitutes the strongest social tissue, or to what extent the analogy between society as at present constituted and organic life is really applicable, we are left without certain guidance. The fact is that with few exceptions evolutionary moral philosophers evade the choice between alternatives which is always presented to them. They begin, for the most part, with a belief that in ethics as in other departments of human knowledge "the more developed must be interpreted by the less developed"--though frequently in the sequel complexity or posteriority of development is erected as a standard by means of which to judge the process of development itself. They are not content to write a _history_ of moral development, applying to it the principles by which Darwinians seek to explain the development of animal life. But the search of origins frequently leads them into theories of the nature of that moral conduct whose origin they are anxious to find quite at variance with current and accepted beliefs concerning its nature. The discovery of the so-called evolution of morality out of non-moral conditions is very frequently an unconscious subterfuge by which the evolutionist hides the fact that he is making a priori judgments upon the value of the moral concepts held to be evolved. To accept such theories of the origin of morality would carry with it the conviction that what we took for "moral" conduct was in reality something very different, and has been so throughout its history. The legitimate inference which should follow would be the denial of the validity of those moral laws which have hitherto been regarded as absolute in character, and the substitution for all customary moral terms of an entirely new set based upon biological considerations. But it is precisely this, the only logical inference, which most evolutionary philosophers are unwilling to draw. They cannot give up their belief in customary morality. Professor Huxley maintained, for example, in a famous lecture that "the ethical progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in running away from it, but in combating it" (_Romanes Lecture, ad fin_.). And very frequently arguments are adduced by evolutionists to prove that men's belief in the absolute character of moral precepts is one of the necessary means adopted by nature to carry out her designs for the social welfare of mankind. Yet the other alternative, to which such reasoning points, they are reluctant to accept. For the belief that moral obligation is absolute in character, that it is alike impossible to explain its origin and transcend its laws, would make the search for a scientific criterion of conduct to be deduced from the laws of life and conditions of existence meaningless, if not absurd.

Nietzsche.

Perhaps the one European thinker who has carried evolutionary principles in ethics to their logical conclusion is Friedrich Nietzsche. Almost any system of morality or immorality might find some justification in Nietzsche's writings, which are extraordinarily chaotic and full of the wildest exaggerations. Yet it has been a true instinct which has led popular opinion as testified to by current literature to find in Nietzsche the most orthodox exponent of Darwinian ideas in their application to ethics. For he saw clearly that to be successful evolutionary ethics must involve the "transvaluation of all values," the "demoralization" of all ordinary current morality. He accepted frankly the glorification of brute strength, superior cunning and all the qualities necessary for success in the struggle for existence, to which the ethics of evolution necessarily tend. He proclaimed himself, before everything else, a physiologist, and looked to physiology to provide the ultimate standard for everything that has value; and though his own ethical code necessarily involves the disappearance of sympathy, love, toleration and all existing altruistic emotions, he yet in a sense finds room for them in such altruistic self-sacrifice as prepares the way for the higher man of the future. Thus, after a fashion, he is able to reconcile the conflicting claims of egoism and altruism and succeed where most apostles of evolution fail. The Christian virtues, sympathy for the weak, the suffering, &c., represent a necessary stage to be passed through in the evolution of the _Ubermensch_, i.e. the stage when the weak and suffering combine in revolt against the strong. They are to be superseded, not so much because all social virtues are to be scorned and rejected, as because in their effects, i.e. in their tendency to perpetuate and prolong the existence of the weak and those who are least well equipped and endowed by nature, they are anti-social in character and inimical to the survival of the strongest and most vigorous type of humanity. Consequently Nietzsche in effect maintains the following paradoxical position: he explains the existence of altruism upon egoistical principles; he advocates the total abolition of all altruism by carrying these same egoistical principles to their logical conclusion; he nevertheless appeals to that moral instinct which makes men ready to sacrifice their own narrow personal interests to the higher good of society--an instinct profoundly altruistic in character--as the ultimate justification of the ethics he enunciates. Such a position is a _reductio ad absurdum_ of the attempt to transcend the ultimate character of those intuitions and feelings which prompt men to benevolence. Thus, though incidentally there is much to be learned from Nietzsche, especially from his criticism of the ethics of pessimism, or from the strictures he passes upon the negative morality of extreme asceticism or quietism, his system inevitably provides its own refutation. For no philosophy which travesties the real course of history and distorts the moral facts is likely to commend itself to the sober judgment of mankind however brilliant be its exposition or ingenious its arguments. Finally, the conceptions of strength, power and masterfulness by which Nietzsche attempts to determine his own moral ideal, become, when examined, as relative and unsatisfactory as other criteria of moral action said to be deduced from evolutionary principles. Men desire strength or power not as ends but as means to ends beyond them; Nietzsche is most convincing when the _Ubermensch_ is left undefined. Imagined as ideal man, i.e. as morality depicts him, he becomes intelligible; imagined as Nietzsche describes him he reels back into the beast, and that distinction which chiefly separates man from the animal world out of which he has emerged, viz. his unique power of self-consciousness and self-criticism, is obliterated.

T.H. Green.

It was upon this crucial difficulty, i.e. the transition in the evolution of morality from the stage of purely animal and unconscious action to specifically human action,--i.e. action directed by self-conscious and purposive intelligence to an end conceived as good,--that the polemic of T.H. Green and his idealistic followers fastened. And it is perhaps unfortunate that metaphysical doctrines enunciated chiefly for the purposes of criticism not in themselves vitally necessary to the theory of morality propounded should have been regarded as the main contribution to ethical theory of idealist writers, and as such treated severely by hostile critics. Green's principal objection to evolutionary moral philosophy is contained in the argument that no merely "natural" explanation of the facts of morality is conceivable. The knowing consciousness,--i.e. so far as conduct is concerned the moral consciousness,--can never become an object of knowledge in the sense in which natural phenomena are objects of scientific knowledge. For such knowledge implies the existence of a knowing consciousness as a relating and uniting intelligence capable of distinguishing itself from the objects to which it relates. And more particularly the existence of the moral consciousness implies "the transition from mere want to consciousness of wanted object, from impulse to satisfy the want to effort for the realization of the wanted objects, implies the presence of the want to a subject which distinguishes itself from it." Consequently the facts of moral development imply with the emergence of human consciousness the appearance of something qualitatively different from the facts with which physiology for instance deals, imply a stratum as it were in development which no examination of animal tissues, no calculation of consequences with regard to the preservation of the species can ever satisfactorily explain. However far back we go in the history of humanity, if the presence of consciousness be admitted at all, it will be necessary to admit also the presence to consciousness of an ideal which can be accepted or rejected, of a power of looking before and after, and aiming at a future which is not yet fully realized. But unfortunately the temporary exigencies of criticism made it necessary for Green to emphasize the metaphysic of the self, i.e. to insist upon the necessity of a critical examination of the pre-requisites of any form of self-consciousness and especially of the knowing consciousness, to such an extent that critics have lost sight of the real dependence of his metaphysic upon the direct evidence of the moral consciousness. The philosophic value, the sincerity, the breadth and depth of his treatment of moral facts and institutions have been fully recognized. What has not been adequately realized is that the metaphysical basis of his system of ethics--the argument, for example, contained in the introduction to the _Prolegomena_--is unfairly treated if divorced from his treatment of morals as a whole, and that it can be justly estimated only if interpreted as much as the conclusion as the starting-point of moral theory. The doctrine of the eternity of the self, for instance, against which much criticism (e.g. Taylor, _The Problem of Conduct_, chap. ii.) has been directed, though it is chiefly expressed in the language of epistemology, has its roots nevertheless in the direct testimony of moral experience. For morality implies a power in the individual of rising above the interests of his own narrower self and identifying himself in the pursuit of a universal good with the true interests of all other selves. Similarly the conception of the self as a moral unity arises naturally out of the impossibility of finding the summum bonum in a succession of transient states of consciousness such as hedonism for example postulates. Good as a true universal can only be realized by a true self, and both imply a principle of unity not wholly expressible in terms of the particulars which it unifies. But whether the idealistic interpretation of the nature of universal good be the true one, i.e. whether we are justified in identifying that self-consciousness which is capable of grasping the principle of unity with the principle of unity which it grasps is a metaphysical and theistic problem comparatively irrelevant to Green's moral theory. It would be quite possible to accept his criticisms of naturalism and hedonism while rejecting many of the metaphysical inferences which he draws. A somewhat similar answer might be returned to those critics who find Green's use of the term "self-realization" or "self-development" as characteristic of the moral ideal unsatisfactory. It is quite easy to exhibit the futility of such a conception if understood formally for the practical purposes of moral philosophy. If the phrase be understood to mean the realization of some capacities of the self it does not appear to discriminate sufficiently between the good and bad capacities; while the realization under present conditions of all the capacities of a self is impossible. And to aim so far as is possible at all-round development would again ignore the distinction between vice and virtue. But used in the sense in which Green habitually uses it self-realization implies, as he puts it, the fulfilment by the good man of his rational capacity or the idea of a best that is in time, i.e. the distinction between the good and the bad self is never ignored, but is the fundamental assumption of his theory. And if it be urged that the expression is in any case tautological, i.e. that the good is defined in terms of self-realization and self-realization in terms of the good, it may be doubted whether any rational system of ethics can avoid a similar imputation. Green would admit that in a certain sense the conception of "good" is indefinable, i.e. that it can only be recognized in the particulars of conduct of which it is the universal form. Only, therefore, to those philosophers who believe in the existence of a criterion of morality, i.e. a universal test such as that of pleasure, happiness and the like, by which we can judge of the worth of actions, will Green's position seem absurd; since, on the contrary, such conceptions as those of "self-development" or "self-realization" seem to have a definite and positive value if they call attention to the metaphysical implications of morality and accurately characterize the moral facts. What ambiguity they possess arises from the ambiguity of morality itself. For moral progress consists in the actualization of what is already potentially in existence. The striking merit of Green's moral philosophy is that the idealism which he advocates is rooted and grounded in moral habits and institutions: and the metaphysic in which it culminates is based upon principles already implicitly recognized by the moral consciousness of the ordinary man. Nothing could be farther from Green's teaching than the belief that constructive metaphysics could, unaided by the intuitions of the moral consciousness, discover laws for the regulation of conduct.

Taylor.

But although Green's loyalty to the primary facts of the moral consciousness prevented him from constructing a rationalistic system of morals based solely upon the conclusions of metaphysics, it was perhaps inevitable that the revival of interest in metaphysics so prominent in his own speculations should lead to a more daring criticism of ethical first principles in other writers. Bradley's _Ethical Studies_ had presented with great brilliancy an idealist theory of morality not very far removed from that of Green's _Prolegomena_. But the publication of _Appearance and Reality_ by the same author marked a great advance in philosophical criticism of ethical postulates, and a growing dissatisfaction with current reconciliations between moral first principles and the conclusions of metaphysics. _Appearance and Reality_ was not primarily concerned with morals, yet it inevitably led to certain conclusions affecting conduct, and it was no very long time before these conclusions were elaborated in detail. Professor A.E. Taylor's _Problem of Conduct_ (1901) is one of the most noteworthy and independent contributions to Moral Philosophy published in recent years. But it nevertheless follows in the main Bradley's line of criticism and may therefore be regarded as representative of his school. There are two principal positions in Professor Taylor's work:--(1) a refusal to base ethics upon metaphysics, and (2) the discovery of an irreconcilable dualism in the nature of morality which takes many shapes, but may be summarized roughly as consisting in an ultimate opposition between egoism and altruism. With regard to the first of these Taylor says (_op. cit._ p. 4) that his object is to show that "ethics is as independent of metaphysical speculation for its principles and methods as any of the so-called 'natural sciences'; that its real basis must be sought not in philosophical theories about the nature of the Absolute or the ultimate constitution of the Universe, but in the empirical facts of human life as they are revealed to us in our concrete everyday experience of the world and mankind, and sifted and systematized by the sciences of psychology and sociology.... Ethics should be regarded as a purely 'positive' or 'experimental' and not as a 'speculative' science." With regard to the second position one quotation will suffice (_op. cit._ p. 183). "Altruism and egoism are divergent developments from the common psychological root of primitive ethical sentiment. Both developments are alike unavoidable, and each is ultimately irreconcilable with the other. Neither egoism nor altruism can be made the sole basis of moral theory without mutilation of the facts, nor can any higher category be discovered by the aid of which their rival claims may be finally adjusted."

Professor Taylor expounds these two theories with great brilliance of argument and much ingenuity, yet neither of them will perhaps carry complete conviction to the minds of the majority of his critics. It is curious, in the first place, to find the independence of moral philosophy upon metaphysics supported by metaphysical arguments. For whatever may be the real character of the interrelation of moral and metaphysical first principles it is obvious that Taylor's own dissatisfaction with current moral principles arises from an inability to believe in their ultimate rationality, i.e. a belief that they are untenable from the standpoint of ultimate metaphysics; and perhaps the most interesting portion of his book is the chapter entitled "Beyond Good and Bad," in which the highest and final form of the ethical consciousness of mankind is subjected to searching criticism. But further, it is becoming increasingly apparent that psychology (upon which Taylor would base morality) itself involves metaphysical assumptions; its position in fact cannot be stated except as a metaphysical position, whether that of subjective idealism or any other. And the need which most philosophers have felt for some philosophical foundation for morality arises, not from any desire to subordinate moral insight to speculative theory, but because the moral facts themselves are inexplicable except in the light of first principles which metaphysics alone can criticize.

Taylor himself attempts to find the roots of ethics in the moral sentiments of mankind, the moral sentiments being primarily feelings or emotions, though they imply and result in judgments of approval and disapproval upon conduct. But it may be doubted whether he succeeds in clearly distinguishing ethical feelings from ethical judgments, and if they are to be treated as synonymous it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that the implications of moral "judgment" must involve a reference to metaphysics.

Moreover, it is obvious that a great part of Taylor's quarrel with current moral ideals arises from the fact that they do not commend themselves to the moral judgment, i.e. from the standpoint of real goodness they are unsatisfactory, being tainted with evil. Hence it appears difficult to reconcile what is in effect a belief in the validity of the judgments of the moral consciousness with a belief that the real source and justification of that consciousness are to be found in the very sentiments and vague mass of floating feelings upon which it pronounces. Scepticism seems to be the only possible result of such a position. Taylor's polemic against metaphysical systems of ethics is based throughout upon an alleged discrepancy and separation between the facts of moral "experience," the judgments of the moral consciousness, and theories as to the nature of these which the philosophers whom he attacks would by no means accept. There is no doubt a distinction between morality as a form of consciousness and reflection upon that morality. But such a distinction neither corresponds to, nor testifies to, the existence of a distinction between morality as "experience" and morality as "theory" or "idea."

Taylor is more persuasive when he is developing his second main thesis--that of the alleged existence of an ultimate dualism in the nature of morality. His accounts of the genesis of the conceptions of obligation and responsibility as of most of the ultimate conceptions with which moral philosophy deals will be accepted or rejected to the extent to which the main contention concerning the psychological basis of ethics commends itself to the reader. But in his exposition of the fundamental contradiction involved in morality elaborated with much care and illustrative argument he appeals for the most part to facts familiar to the unphilosophical moral consciousness. He begins by finding an ultimate opposition between the instincts of self-assertion and instincts which secure the production and protection of the coming generation even in the infra-ethical world with which biology deals. He traces this opposition into the forms in which it appears in the social life of mankind (as, e.g., in the difficulty of reconciling the conflicting claims of individual self-development and self-culture and social service), and finds "a hidden root of insincerity and hypocrisy beneath all morality" (p. 243), inasmuch as it is not possible to pursue any one type of ideal without some departure from singleness of purpose. And he finds all the conceptions by which men have hoped to reconcile admitted antagonisms and divergencies between moral ideals claiming to be ultimate and authoritative alike unsatisfactory (p. 285). Progress is illusory; there is no satisfactory goal to which moral development inevitably tends; religion in which some take refuge when distressed by the inexplicable contradictions of moral conduct itself "contains and rests upon an element of make believe" (p. 489).

With Taylor's presentation of the difficulties with which morality is expected to grapple probably few would be found seriously to disagree, though they might consider it unduly pessimistic. But when he turns what is in effect a statement of certain forms of moral difficulty into an attack upon the logical and coherent character of morality itself, he is not so likely to command assent. For the difficulty all men meet with in realizing goodness, or in being moral, is not in itself evidence of an inherent contradiction in the nature of goodness as such. And what perhaps would first strike an unprejudiced critic in Taylor's examples of conflicting ideals or antagonistic yet ultimate moral judgments would be the perception that they are not necessarily moral ideas or judgments at all, and hence necessarily not ultimate.

The claims of self-culture and of social service may when considered in the abstract or in some hypothetical case appear antagonistic and irreconcilable. But when they present themselves to the individual moral consciousness it may be safely asserted (1) that there can be only one moral choice possible, i.e. that their opposition (where they are opposed) involves no conflict of duties; and (2) that whichever ideal is in the end preferred, opportunities will nevertheless be provided within its realization for the concurrent realization of activities and capacities ordinarily associated with the ideal alleged to be contradictory. For just as there is no self-realization which does not involve self-sacrifice, so there is no room for that species of egoism within the confines of morality which is incompatible with social service.

It will be clear from the foregoing account of Taylor's work that the tendency of his thought, as of that of Bradley, is by no means directed to the confirmation or re-establishment of those principles of conduct recognized by the ordinary moral consciousness. Psychology or metaphysics tend in their systems to usurp the place of authority formerly assigned to ethics proper.

Martineau.

It would be true on the whole to assert that evolutionary systems of ethics such as those of Herbert Spencer, Sir Leslie Stephen or Professor S. Alexander (_Moral Order and Progress_, 1899), together with the metaphysical theories of morals of which T.H. Green and Bradley and Taylor are the chief representatives, have dominated the field of ethical speculation since 1870. Nevertheless it is only necessary to mention such a work as Martineau's _Types of Ethical Theory_ to dispel the notion that the type of moral philosophy most characteristically English, i.e. consisting in the patient analysis of the form and nature of the moral consciousness itself, has given way or is likely to give way to more ambitious and constructive efforts. Martineau's chief endeavour was, as he himself says, to interpret, to vindicate, and to systematize the moral sentiments, and if the actual exhibition of what is involved, e.g., in moral choice is the vindication of morality Martineau may be said to have been successful. It is with his interpretation and systematization of the moral sentiments that most of Martineau's critics have found fault. It is impossible, e.g., to accept his ordered hierarchy of "springs of action" without perceiving that the real principle upon which they can be arranged in order at all must depend upon considerations of circumstances and consequences, of stations and duties, with which a strict intuitionalism such as that of Martineau would have no dealing.[50] Similarly the notion of Conscience as a special faculty giving its pronouncements immediately and without reflection cannot be maintained in the face of modern psychological analysis and is untrue to the nature of moral judgment itself. And Martineau is curiously unsympathetic to the universal and social aspect of morality with which evolutionary and idealist moral philosophers are so largely occupied. Nevertheless there have been few moral philosophers who have, apart from the idiosyncrasies of their special prepossessions, set forth with clearer insight or with greater nobility of language the essential nature of the moral consciousness.

Sidgwick.

Equal in importance to Martineau's work is Professor Sidgwick's _Methods of Ethics_ which appeared in 1874. The two works are alike in loftiness of outlook and in the fact that they are devoted to the re-examination of the nature of the moral consciousness to the exclusion of alien branches of inquiry. In most other respects they differ. Martineau is much more in sympathy with idealism than Sidgwick, whose work consists in a restatement from a novel and independent standpoint of the Utilitarian position. And Sidgwick has been far more successful than any other moral philosopher with the exception of T.H. Green and Bradley in founding a school of thought. Many of his most acute critics would be the first to admit how much they owe to his teaching. Chief among the more recent of these is G.E. Moore, whose book _Principia Ethica_ is an important original contribution to ethical thought. And although Dr Hastings Rashdall (_The Theory of Good and Evil_ Oxford, 1907) is not in agreement with Sidgwick's own particular type of hedonistic theory in his own philosophical position, he occupies a point of view somewhat similar to that of Sidgwick's main attitude of Rational Utilitarianism. Rashdall's two volumes exhibit also a welcome return on the part of English thought to the proper business of the moral philosopher--the examination of the nature of moral conduct. Other works, such as Professor L.T. Hobhouse's _Morals in Evolution_ or Professor E.A. Westermarck's _Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas_, testify to a continued interest in the history of morality and in the anthropological inquiries with which moral philosophy is closely connected.

Much that is of importance for moral philosophy has recently been written upon problems that more properly belong to the philosophy of religion and the theory of knowledge. J.F. M'Taggart's _Studies in Hegelian Cosmology_, and his later work, _Some Dogmas of Religion_, contain interesting contributions to the theory of pleasure and of the problem of free will and determinism. A notable instance of this tendency is seen in the developments of the theory of pragmatism (q.v.), for which F.C.S. Schiller has proposed the general term "humanism." Such aspects as concern ethics include, for example, the limited indeterminism involved in the theory, the attitude of the religious consciousness expressed by William James (_Will to Believe_ and _Pragmatism_), and the pragmatic conception of the good. And the widespread interest in social problems has produced a revival of speculation concerning questions partly political and party ethical in character, e.g. the nature of justice. Finally it has become apparent that many problems hitherto left for political economy to solve belong more properly to the moralist, if not to the moral philosopher, and it may be confidently expected that with the increased complexity of social life and the disappearance of many sanctions of morality hitherto regarded as inviolable, the future will bring a renewed and practical interest in the theory of conduct likely to lead to fresh developments in ethical speculation.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.--The literature of the subject is so large in all languages that only a small selection can be given here. For further works reference may be made to subsidiary articles. See also Baldwin's _Dict. of Philos. and Psychol._ vol. iii. (1905), pp. 812 foll. (bibliography).

I. _Historical._--Sir L. Stephen, _History of English Thought in the 18th Century_ (1876, 3rd ed. 1892); W.E.H. Lecky, _History of European Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne_ (1869, many editions); works of Ed. Zeller (q.v.); G.H. Lewes, _History of Philosophy_ (1880); W. Gass, _Geschichte der christlichen Ethik_ (1881); A.W. Benn, _The Greek Philosophers_ (1882); F. Jodl, _Geschichte der Ethik in der neueren Philos_. (2 vols., 1882-1889); L. Schmidt, _Ethik der alten Griechen_ (1882); E. Howley, _The Old Morality traced Historically_ (1885); J. Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_ (Oxford, 1885, 3rd ed. 1891); Th. Ziegler, _Gesch. d. christl. Ethik_ (1886); Ch. Letourneaux, _L'Evolution de la morale_ (1887); K. Kostlin, _Gesch. der Ethik_ (1887); C.E. Luthardt, _Die antike Ethik in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung_ (1887), and _Hist. of Christian Ethics_ (1888); C.M. Williams, _A Review of the Systems of Ethics founded on the Theory of Evolution_ (1893); J. Watson, _Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer_ (1895); L.A. Selby-Bigge, _British Moralists_ (1897); R. Mackintosh, _From Comte to Benjamin Kidd_ (1899); S. Patten, _The Development of English Thought_ (1899); A.B. Bruce, _The Moral Order of the World in Ancient and Modern Thought_ (1899); Sir L. Stephen, _The English Utilitarians_ (1901); Henry Sidgwick, _Outlines of the History of Ethics_ (5th ed., 1902); Paul Janet, _History of the Problems of Philosophy_ (1902-1903), Eng. trans. Ada Monahan, vol. ii. "Ethics"; W.R. Sorley, _Recent Tendencies in Ethics_ (1904).

II. _Constructive and Critical._--Besides the works mentioned above the following may be mentioned:--J.M. Guyau, _La Morale anglaise_ (1879), _Education et heredite_ (1889; Eng. trans. Greenstreet, with introd. by G.F. Stout, 1891), _Esquisse d'une morale sans obligation ni sanction_ (Eng. trans., 1898); G.H. Lewes, _Problems of Life and Mind_ (1879); Sir L. Stephen, _Science of Ethics_ (1882); P. Janet, _The Theory of Morals_ (Eng. trans., 1884); W.R. Sorley, _On the Ethics of Naturalism_ (1885); W.L. Courtney, _Constructive Ethics_ (1886); Wilson and Fowler, _Principles of Morals_ (1886); H. Hoffding, _Ethik_ (1888), _Psychologie_ (1882, 1892; trans. Lowndes, 1892); W. Wundt, _Ethik_ (1886; trans. Titchener and others, 1897); F. Paulsen, _Ethik_ (1889, 1893; trans. Thilly, 1899); H. Sidgwick, _Method of Ethics_ (1890); J.T. Bixby, _The Crisis in Morals: An Examination of Rational Ethics_ (1891); J. Seth, _Freedom an Ethical Postulate_ (1891); J.H. Muirhead, _Elements of Ethics_ (1892); G. Simnel, _Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft_ (1892, 1893); T. Ziegler, _Social Ethics_ (1892); T.H. Huxley, _Evolution and Ethics_ (1893); W. Knight, _The Christian Ethic_ (1893); J.S. Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_ (1893); F. Ryland, _Ethics_ (1893); J. Seth, _A Study of Ethical Principles_ (1894, 6th ed. 1902); C.F. D'Arcy, _Short Study of Ethics_ (1895); J.H. Hyslop, _The Elements of Ethics_ (1895); J. Kidd, _Morality and Religion_ (1895); Sir L. Stephen, _Social Rights and Duties_ (1896); J.M. Baldwin, _Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental Development_ (1897); Th. Ribot, _Psychology of Emotions_ (1897); A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, _Man's Place in the Cosmos_ (1897); H.R. Marshall, _Instinct and Reason_ (1898); W. Wallace, _Natural Theology and Ethics_ (1898); F. Paulsen, _Partei-politik und Moral_ (1900); A.E. Taylor, _Problem of Conduct_ (1901); G.T. Ladd, _Philosophy of Conduct_ (1902); H. Sidgwick, _Ethics of Green, Spencer, Martineau_ (1902); D. Irons, _Study in Psychology of Ethics_ (1903); G.E. Moore, _Principia Ethica_ (1903); R. Eucken, _Geistige Stromungen der Gegenwart_ (1904), and other works (see EUCKEN, RUDOLF); works of A. Fouillee (q.v.); G. Santayana, _Life of Reason_ (1905); E.A. Westermarck, _Origin and Development of Moral Ideas_ (1906); George Gore, _Scientific Basis of Morality_ (1899), and _New Scientific Basis of Morality_ (1906), containing an interesting if unconvincing attempt to explain ethics on purely physical principles. (H. H. W.)

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This well-known phrase was originally attributed to the Pythagoreans.

[2] It is highly characteristic of Platonism that the issue in this dialogue, as originally stated, is between virtue and vice, whereas, without any avowed change of ground, the issue ultimately discussed is between the philosophic life and the life of vulgar ambition or sensual enjoyment.

[3] This cardinal term is commonly translated "happiness"; and it must be allowed that it is the most natural term for what we (in English) agree to call "our being's end and aim." But happiness so definitely signifies a state of feeling that it will not admit the interpretation that Aristotle (as well as Plato and the Stoics) expressly gives to [Greek: eudaimonia]; the confusion is best avoided by rendering the word by the less familiar "well-being."

[4] Aristotle follows Plato and Socrates in identifying the notions of [Greek: kalos] ("fair," "beautiful") and [Greek: agathos] ("good") in their application to conduct. We may observe, however, that while the latter term is used to denote the virtuous man, and (in the neuter) equivalent to End generally, the former is rather chosen to express the quality of virtuous acts which in any particular case is the end of the virtuous agent. Aristotle no doubt faithfully represents the common sense of Greece in considering that, in so far as virtue is in itself good to the virtuous agent, it belongs to that species of good which we distinguish as beautiful. In later Greek philosophy the term [Greek: kalon] ("honestum") became still more technical in the signification of "morally good."

[5] The above account is considerably expanded in H. Sidgwick's _Hist. of Ethics_ (5th ed., 1902), pp. 59-70.

[6] There is a certain difficulty in discussing Aristotle's views on the subject of practical wisdom, and the relation of the intellect to moral action, since it is most probable that the only accounts that we have of these views are not part of the genuine writings of Aristotle. Still books vi. and vii. of the _Nicomachean Ethics_ contain no doubt as pure Aristotelian doctrine as a disciple could give, and appear to supply a sufficient foundation for the general criticism expressed in the text.

[7] It has been suggestively said that Cynicism was to Stoicism what monasticism was to early Christianity. The analogy, however, must not be pressed too far, since orthodox Stoics do not ever seem to have regarded Cynicism as the more perfect way.

[8] The Stoics were not quite agreed as to the immutability of virtue, but they were agreed that, when once possessed, it could only be lost through the loss of reason itself.

[9] Hence some members of the school, without rejecting the definition of virtue = knowledge, also defined it as "strength and force."

[10] It is apparently in view of this union in reason of rational beings that friends are allowed to be "external goods" to the sage, and that the possession of good children is also counted a good.

[11] The Stoics seem to have varied in their view of "good repute," [Greek: eudoxia]; at first, when the school was more under the influence of Cynicism, they professed an outward as well as an inward indifference to it; ultimately they conceded the point to common sense, and included it among [Greek: proegmena].

[12] It is noted of him that he did not disdain the co-operation either of women or of slaves in his philosophical labours.

[13] The last charge of Epicurus to his disciples is said to have been, [Greek: ton dogmaton memnesthai].

[14] Epictetus.

[15] Marcus Aurelius.

[16] E.g. Justin Martyr, Origen, Tertullian, Cyprian.

[17] Citra sanguinis effusionem.

[18] To show the crudity of the notion of redemption in early Christianity, it is sufficient to mention that many fathers represent Christ's ransom as having been paid to the devil; sometimes adding that by the concealment of Christ's divinity under the veil of humanity a certain deceit was (fairly) practised on the great deceiver.

[19] It is to be observed that Augustine prefers to use "freedom" not for the power of willing either good or evil, but the power of willing good. The highest freedom, in his view, excludes the possibility of willing evil.

[20] Cicero's works are unimportant in the history of ancient ethics, as their philosophical matter was entirely borrowed from Greek treatises now lost; but the influence exercised by them (especially by the _De officiis_) over medieval and even modern readers was very considerable.

[21] Abelard afterwards retracted this view, at least in its extreme form; and in fact does not seem to have been fully conscious of the difference between (1) unfulfilled intention to do an act objectively right, and (2) intention to do what is merely believed by the agent to be right.

[22] He was condemned by two synods, in 1121 and 1140.

[23] _Synderesis_ (Gr. [Greek: sunteresis], from [Greek: sunterein], to watch closely, observe) is used in this sense in Jerome (_Com. in Ezek_. i. 4-10).

[24] The refusal of the council of Constance to condemn Jean Petit's advocacy of assassination is a striking example of this weakness. Cf. Milman, _Lat. Christ_. book xiii. c. 9.

[25] As the chief English casuists we may mention Perkins, Hall, Sanderson, as well as the more eminent Jeremy Taylor, whose _Ductor dubitantium_ appeared in 1660.

[26] This influence was not exercised in the region of ethics. Bacon's brief outline of moral philosophy (in the _Advancement of Learning_, ii. 20-22) is highly pregnant and suggestive. But Bacon's great task of reforming scientific method was one which, as he conceived it, left morals on one side; he never made any serious effort to reduce his ethical views to a coherent system, methodically reasoned on an independent basis. The outline given in the _Advancement_ was never filled in, and does not seem to have had any effect on the subsequent course of ethical speculation.

[27] He even identifies the desire with the pleasure, apparently regarding the stir of appetite and that of fruition as two parts of the same "motion."

[28] In spite of Hobbes's uncompromising egoism, there is a noticeable discrepancy between his theory of the ends that men naturally seek and his standard for determining their natural rights. This latter is never Pleasure simply, but always Preservation--though on occasion he enlarges the notion of "preservation" into "preservation of life so as not to be weary of it." His view seems to be that in a state of nature _most_ men _will_ fight, rob, &c., "for delectation merely" or "for glory," and that hence all men must be allowed an indefinite right to fight, rob, &c., "for preservation."

[29] It should be noticed, however, that it is only in his treatment of Equity and Benevolence that he really follows out the mathematical analogy (cf. Sidgwick's _History of Ethics_, 5th ed., pp. 180-181).

[30] It should be observed that, while Clarke is sincerely anxious to prove that most principles are binding independently of Divine appointment, he is no less concerned to show that morality requires the practical support of revealed religion.

[31] Three classes of impulses are thus distinguished by Shaftesbury:--(1) "Natural Affections," (2) "Self-affections," and (3) "Un-natural Affections." Their characteristics are further considered in the _History of Ethics_, p. 186 seq.

[32] In a remarkable passage near the close of his eleventh sermon Butler seems even to allow that conscience would have to give way to self-love, if it were possible (which it is not) that the two should come into ultimate and irreconcilable conflict.

[33] It is worth noticing that Hutcheson's express definition of the object of self-love includes "perfection" as well as "happiness"; but in the working out of his system he considers private good exclusively as happiness or pleasure.

[34] Hume's ethical view was finally stated in his _Inquiry into the Principles of Morals_ (1751), which is at once more popular and more purely utilitarian than his earlier work.

[35] Hume remarks that in some cases, by "association of ideas," the rule by which we praise and blame is extended beyond the principle of utility from which it arises; but he allows much less scope to this explanation in his second treatise than in his first.

[36] In earlier editions of the _Inquiry_ Hume expressly included all approved qualities under the general notion of "virtue." In later editions he avoided this strain on usage by substituting or adding "merit" in several passages--allowing that some of the laudable qualities which he mentions would be more commonly called "talents," but still maintaining that "there is little distinction made in our internal estimation" of "virtues" and "talents."

[37] It is to be observed that whereas Price and Stewart (after Butler) identify the object of self-love with happiness or pleasure, Reid conceives this "good" more vaguely as including perfection and happiness; though he sometimes uses "good" and happiness as convertible terms, and seems practically to have the latter in view in all that he says of self-love.

[38] E.g. Reid proposes to apply this principle in favour of monogamy, arguing from the proportion of males and females born; without explaining why, if the intention of nature hence inferred excludes occasional polygamy, it does not also exclude occasional celibacy.

[39] We may observe that some recent writers, who would generally be included in this school, avoid in various ways the difficulty of constructing a code of external conduct. Sometimes they consider moral intuition as determining the comparative excellence of conflicting motives (James Martineau), or the comparative quality of pleasures chosen (Laurie), which seems to be the same view in a hedonistic garb; others hold that what is intuitively perceived is the rightness or wrongness of individual acts--a view which obviously renders ethical reasoning practically superfluous.

[40] The originality--such as it is--of Paley's system (as of Bentham's) lies in its method of working out details rather than in its principles of construction. Paley expressly acknowledges his obligations to the original and suggestive, though diffuse and whimsical, work of Abraham Tucker (_Light of Nature Pursued_, 1768-1774). In this treatise, as in Paley's, we find "every man's own satisfaction, the spring that actuates all his motives," connected with "general good, the root whereout all our rules of conduct and sentiments of honour are to branch," by means of natural theology demonstrating the "unniggardly goodness of the author of nature." Tucker is also careful to explain that satisfaction or pleasure is "one and the same in kind, however much it may vary in degree, ... whether a man is pleased with hearing music, seeing prospects, tasting dainties, performing laudable actions, or making agreeable reflections," and again that by "general good" he means "quantity of happiness," to which "every pleasure that we do to our neighbour is an addition." There is, however, in Tucker's theological link between private and general happiness a peculiar ingenuity which Paley's common sense has avoided. He argues that men having no free will have really no desert; therefore the divine equity must ultimately distribute happiness in equal shares to all; therefore I must ultimately increase my own happiness most by conduct that adds most to the general fund which Providence administers.

But in fact the outline of Paley's utilitarianism is to be found a generation earlier--in Gay's dissertation prefixed to Law's edition of King's _Origin of Evil_--as the following extracts will show:--"The idea of virtue is the conformity to a rule of life, directing the actions of all rational creatures with respect to each other's happiness; to which every one is always obliged.... Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting something in order to be happy.... Full and complete obligation which will extend to all cases can only be that arising from the authority of God.... The will of God [so far as it directs behaviour to others] is the immediate rule or criterion of virtue ... but it is evident from the nature of God that he could have no other design in creating mankind than their happiness; and therefore he wills their happiness; therefore that my behaviour so far as it may be a means to the happiness of mankind should be such; so this happiness of mankind may be said to be the criterion of virtue once removed."

The same dissertation also contains the germ of Hartley's system, as we shall presently notice.

[41] It must be allowed that Paley's application of this argument is somewhat loosely reasoned, and does not sufficiently distinguish the consequence of a single act of beneficent manslaughter from the consequences of a general permission to commit such acts.

[42] This list gives twelve out of the fourteen classes in which Bentham arranges the springs of action, omitting the religious sanction (mentioned afterwards), and the pleasures and pains of self-interest, which include all the other classes except sympathy and antipathy.

[43] In the _Deontology_ published by Bowring from MSS. left after Bentham's death, the coincidence is asserted to be complete.

[44] It should be observed that Austin, after Bentham, more frequently uses the term "moral" to connote what he more distinctly calls "positive morality," the code of rules supported by common opinion in any society.

[45] In the before-mentioned dissertation. Cf. note 2 to p. 835. Hartley refers to this treatise as having supplied the starting-point for his own system.

[46] It should be noticed that Hartley's sensationalism is far from leading him to exalt the corporeal pleasures. On the contrary, he tries to prove elaborately that they (as well as the pleasures of imagination, ambition, self-interest) cannot be made an object of primary pursuit without a loss of happiness on the whole--one of his arguments being that these pleasures occur earlier in time, and "that which is prior in the order of nature is always less perfect than that which is posterior."

[47] It may be observed that in the view of Kant and others (2) and (3) are somewhat confusingly blended.

[48] Singularly enough, the English writer who approaches most nearly to Kant on this point is the utilitarian Godwin, in his _Political Justice_. In Godwin's view, reason is the proper motive to acts conducive to general happiness: reason shows me that the happiness of a number of other men is of more value than my own; and the perception of this truth affords me at least _some_ inducement to prefer the former to the latter. And supposing it to be replied that the motive is really the moral uneasiness involved in choosing the selfish alternative, Godwin answers that this uneasiness, though a "constant step" in the process of volition, is a merely "accidental" step--"I feel pain in the neglect of an act of benevolence, because benevolence is judged by me to be conduct which it becomes me to adopt."

[49] In Kantism, as we have partly seen, the most important ontological beliefs--in God, freedom and immortality of the soul--are based on necessities of ethical thought. In Fichte's system the connexion of ethics and metaphysics is still more intimate; indeed, we may compare it in this respect to Platonism; as Plato blends the most fundamental notions of each of these studies in the one idea of good, so Fichte blends them in the one idea free-will. "Freedom," in his view, is at once the foundation of all being and the end of all moral action. In the systems of Schelling and Hegel ethics falls again into a subordinate place; indeed, the ethical view of the former is rather suggested than completely developed. Neither Fichte nor Schelling has exercised more than the faintest and most indirect influence on ethical philosophy in England; it therefore seems best to leave the ethical doctrines of each to be explained in connexion with the rest of his system.

[50] Cf. A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, _The Philosophical Radicals. Martineau's Philosophy_, p. 92.