CHAPTER II.

What is Truth; or, the Philosopher’s Stone?

In mediæval romance the Alchemist is a familiar figure--with flowing robe and skull-cap, in the midst of crucibles and alembics. This period of the world did not present a feature more weird and picturesque: a body of learned but misguided men, professing the “chemistry of chemistries.” With eagerness and devotion they vainly sought for a principle that could indefinitely prolong human life and transmute the baser metals into gold and silver. Although centuries have elapsed since Gebir and Paracelsus, yet the “philosopher’s stone” is a desideratum. Of the Alchemists it has been quaintly said by Percy, “that their respective histories were accurate illustrations of the definition which describes Alchemy as an Art without principle, which begins in falsehood, proceeds in labor, and ends in beggary.”

Forcibly suggestive is this picture of moral philosophy and philosophers. From the remotest ages certain men have arrogated to themselves a knowledge in the realm of ethics much superior to their brethren. It was manifested by the “gnomic” poetry of Greece, more than 700 years B. C., and in the oracular sayings of the so-called “seven sages” of antiquity. To this day a similar class of wiseacres may be found in all parts of the earth. The moralists, however, search not for the universal medicine or an irresistible solvent. Such persons admit the “grand elixir” is a delusion; and yet, their ambition is more daring and presumptious. They would “be as gods, knowing good and evil.” “Gold is but dross,” they exclaim, “our quest is for _necessary_ moral truth. We seek _immutable_ righteousness.” Long ago was Alchemy abandoned as futile. Not so the egotistic dogmatism of the moral philosophers: with them self-conceit has remained incorrigible, from Socrates and Plato, through Kant and Hegel, to Martineau and Janet. In vain, their assumptions have been repeatedly demolished and their deductions refuted. Unmindful are they, also, of the irreconcilable conflict of “schools”--the hopeless contradiction of “systems.” Fully one hundred great thinkers, first and last, have asserted the discovery of indubitable “good.” But no two of them all agreed upon the infallible line of distinction between what “ought to be” and its opposite. In fact, every individual of the number represents a different scheme. All moral philosophers asseverate the necessity for an authoritative standard of right and wrong--for some peremptory and incontestable guide to human conduct. Otherwise, they admit, one opinion is no more acceptable or commanding than another.

Some affirm the existence of an innate faculty, the unerring dictates of which are defended. But Bentham (a great jurist) denounced the “moral sense” man as a bully who would brow-beat others into accepting his verdict. All such appeals were described by him as sheer “_ipse dixitism_: as a fraud by which incompetent philosophers would palm their own tastes and fancies upon mankind.” “One man,” wrote Bentham of Shaftesbury, “says _he_ has a thing made on purpose to tell _him_ what is right and what is wrong; and that it is called _moral sense_: then he goes to work at his ease and says such and such a thing is right, and such and such a thing is wrong. Why? ‘Because _my_ moral sense tells me it is.’” Of the inner-capacity-philosopher, Hazlitt remarked that “his excessive egotism filled all objects with himself.” To Crabbe, “he was a self-conceited man, who pretends to see through intuition what others learn by experience and observation; to know in a day what another wants years to acquire; to learn of himself what others are contented to get by means of instruction.”

Archdeacon Paley, again, ridiculed as worthless a “moral sense” which man may disregard if he chooses. What is an _authority_, said Paley, merely felt in the individual consciousness: a personal whim, the mere accident of individuality. What, he asks, is the authority of another’s conscience to me? What, indeed, _is_ my conscience, and _why_ is it an authority to myself? We can never know whether it is “a real angel with flaming sword, or a scare-crow dressed up by the moral philosophers.” Did the “moral sense” exist, should we not see a universal evidence of its influence? Would not men exhibit a more manifest obedience to its supposed dictates than they do? Would there not be a greater uniformity of opinion, as to the rightness or wrongness of opinions, as to the rightness or wrongness of actions? “We should, not, as now, find one man or nation considering as a virtue what another regards as a vice--Malays glorying in the piracy abhorred by civilized races--a Thug regarding as a religious act that assassination at which a European shudders--a Russian piquing himself on his successful trickery--a red Indian in his undying revenge--things which with us would hardly be boasted of.

“Again, if this moral sense exist and possess no fixity, gives no uniform response, says one thing in Europe and another in Asia--originates different notions of duty in each age, each race, each individual, how can it afford a safe foundation for a systematic morality? What can be more absurd than to seek a definite rule of right in the answers of so uncertain an authority?”

Can it be fairly said, my reader, that such men are in a position to judge the gambler, or to denounce his vocation? May not the gamester ask of this sect: By what authority do you pronounce judgment, “out of hand,” upon me and mine? Where is your standard--authentic, determinative, undeniable, irrefutable? Am I subject to the dominion of your conscience? In my opinion, gaming is not a sin. In what is your judgment superior to mine? Moreover, I defy you to demonstrate a wager is wrong, _per se_. If you find this impossible, I am free to repudiate your dogmatism. To know, also, that gaming is not _prima facie_ sinful, we have but to define it.

The lexicographers define a gamester as “one who plays for money or other stake;” and gaming “to be the use of cards, dice, or other implement, with a view to win money, or other thing, wagered upon the issue of the contest.” Is this a description of anything forbidden by the decalogue? Where, in the old or new testament, is a similar transaction denounced as a sin? But, it may be said, perhaps, the foregoing definition does not suffice for moral consideration: it ignores the element of chance, which enters more or less into all games. This would imply that it is immoral to invoke a fortuity. Is it?

Here, the great Jefferson may be quoted with propriety: “It is a common idea that games of chance are immoral. But what is chance? Nothing happens in this world without a cause. If we know the cause, we do not call it chance, but if we do not know it, we say it was produced by chance. If we see a loaded die turn its lightest side up, we know the cause, and that it is not an effect produced by chance; but whatever side an unloaded die turns up, not knowing the cause, we say it is the effect of chance. Yet, the morality of the thing cannot depend on our knowledge or ignorance of its cause. Not knowing _why_ a particular side of an unloaded die turns up, cannot make the act of throwing, or of betting on it, immoral. If we consider games of chance immoral, then every pursuit of human industry is immoral, for there is not a single one that is not subject to chance; not one, wherein you do not risk a loss for the chance of some gain.”

In “Paradise Lost,” Milton declares:

“Next him, high arbiter, _Chance_ governs all!”

And of mankind we read in Ecclesiastes that “time and _chance_ happeneth to them”--mankind. (9:11). Among the Hebrews, property was divided and disputes were decided, “by lot.” The custom is mentioned by Solomon, Matthew and Luke. (Prov. 16:33; Matt. 27:35; Luke 10.) Furthermore, this mode of appeal to destiny is sanctioned, yea, even prescribed, by the Bible. According to Leviticus, Aaron was commanded “to take the two goats, and present them before the Lord, at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation. And Aaron shall _cast lots_ upon the two goats; one lot for the Lord and the other lot for the scape-goat. And Aaron shall bring the goat upon which the Lord’s lot fell, and offer him for a sin offering. But the goat on which the lot fell to be the scape-goat, shall be presented alive before the Lord, to make an atonement with him and to let him go for a scape-goat into the wilderness.” (16:7, 8, 9.)

_Thus was chance invested with the sanctity of a religious observance._

Moses was instructed that the “Promised Land” should be divided among the Hebrews “by lot.” The method is described in Numbers: “Notwithstanding, the land shall be divided by lot, according to the names of the tribes of their fathers shall they inherit. According to lot shall the possession thereof be divided between many and few.” This direction was followed to the letter by “Eleazar, the priest, and Joshua the son of Nun, and the heads of the fathers of the tribes of the children of Israel;” for we are told in Joshua, that “By lot was their inheritance; as the Lord commanded by the hand of Moses, for the nine tribes and for the half tribe.” (Josh 14:1, 2; 18:6.)

_Luck, then, decided the tenure of the tribes in Canaan--a title dictated by Divinity._

Joshua determined, by lot, that it was Achan, of the tribe of Judah, who had taken “the accursed thing” and thus brought upon Israel the disaster at Ai. (Josh. 7:14.) During the great battle of Michmash-Aijalon, Saul said unto the Israelites: “Cursed be the man that eateth any food until evening, that I may be avenged on my enemies.”

Unmindful of this oath, wild honey was eaten by his son, in a moment of extreme hunger. No one would divulge that the king’s adjuration had been disregarded by the beloved Jonathan. “Therefore, Saul said unto the Lord God of Israel, give a perfect lot. And Saul and Jonathan were taken: but the people escaped. And Saul said, Cast lots between me and Jonathan, my son. And Jonathan was taken.” (1 Sam. 14:40, 42.)

_By lot, likewise, the question of “ministry and apostleship” was decided against Justus and in favor of Matthias._ (Acts 1:26.)

Briefly, if the Bible is a divine production, how can appeals to chance be stigmatized as vicious or irreligious? Also, it is not to be denied that chance, or casualty, enters very largely into every department of human action. Men are compelled to take ventures every day; the engineer faces them; so does the sea captain; the same may be said of the doctor, the surgeon, the lawyer and the banker. A merchant encounters all the risks of trade; the hostility of the elements and the bankruptcy of others. The rains may rot or the drouths destroy the crops of the farmer. And almost, in the words of Ben Jonson, throughout the world,

“All human business, fortune doth command, Without all order, and with her blind hand, She, blind, bestows blind gifts, that still have nurst, They see not who nor how.”

The politician, too, might say with Macbeth: “If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.” War is a mighty game between giants. In truth, of Napoleon the poet has said:

“Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones, Whose table, earth; whose dice, were human bones.”

Beyond this, even our laws and institutions appeal to chance. In the United States Senate, whom, respectively, of two members--elected at the same time--shall serve for the long and short term, is decided by lot. The law recognizes that even property may be thus divided. “When an estate is apportioned into three parts, and one part is given to each of three persons; the proper way is to ascertain each one’s part by drawing lots.” Thus is the rule stated by Bouvier and Wolff. The Illinois Statutes, for the regulation of elections, enact that “when two or more persons receive an equal and the highest number of votes for an office to be filled by the county alone, that county clerk shall issue a notice to such persons of such tie vote, and require them to appear at his office, on a day named in the notice, within ten days from the day of election, and determine by lot which of them is to be declared elected. On the day appointed the clerk and other canvassers shall attend, and the parties interested shall appear and determine by lot which of them is to be declared elected.” Similar laws exist in other states.

Some moralists admit the validity of a transaction, notwithstanding it may depend upon chance. They will concede there is no intrinsic wrong in any species of game, unless there exists an inequality of chance or skill. Not so, thought Paley, the Christian philosopher, whose name is a household word for purity, zeal and power. He said: “What some say of this kind of contract, that one side ought not to have any advantage over the other, is neither practical nor true. This would require perfect equality of skill and judgment, which is seldom to be met with. I might not have it in my power to play with fairness a game of cards once in a twelvemonth, if I must wait till I meet with a person whose art, skill and judgment are neither greater nor less than my own. Nor is this equality requisite to the justice of the contract. One man may give to another the whole of the stake if he chooses, and the other may justly accept it if it be given him; much more, therefore, may one give another an advantage in the chance of winning the whole. The only proper restriction is, that neither side have an advantage by means of which the other is not aware. The same distinction holds of all transactions and proceedings into which chance enters; such as insurance, and speculations in trade or in stocks.”

In this connection, with what force could be quoted the sweet Nazarene in His parable of the vineyard laborers: “Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst thou not agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way; I will give unto this last even as unto thee. _Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?_” (Matt. 20:13, 14, 15.)

Here the mathematicians attempt to rescue moral philosophy. They would demonstrate the improbability of luck. If asked how it happened that a man won a hundred thousand dollar prize, while his neighbor drew a blank, the mathematician might tell you it was chance; that there was a necessity for the prize to fall somewhere, and that he who had the most chances was the most likely to obtain it. Such caviling could be dismissed with the answer: You acknowledge the necessity of a prize falling _somewhere_, then why not to me. Surely my chances are as good as my neighbors’, perhaps more so. It may be; and what may be may be now. “There is no prerogative in human hours.” “There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.”

No intelligent gambler is a believer in “luck” as _a personal quality_. He recognizes the phenomena of chance. _How_ they will operate is not known to the mathematician more than to him; the “chances” may result favorably or unfavorably for a gambler; the law may so work as to benefit him, or it may not. Whether “chance” or “luck,” is immaterial to the issue.

But seriously, for what do these aspirants contend? A method of reasoning from the happening of an event to the _probabilities_ of one or another cause; that the possible combinations in a pack of cards, or a handful of dice, may be computed, even when the question involves the chances of a thousand dice, or a thousand throws of one die. In its very nature this is a vain-glorious pretension, and upon what is it based? An _hypothesis_ presenting the necessity of one or another out of a certain number of consequences. In other words, _given_ an event as having happened, and which _might_ have been the consequence of either of several causes, or explicable by either of several _hypotheses_, the probabilities can be _inferred_.

In this way is the philosophy of supposition substituted for that of caprice. We are asked by the mathematician, at the very outset, to assume something he has not proved, and which is not susceptible of proof. We are required to take for granted the imaginary premises upon which his argument depends. Is this not the acme of intellectual audacity? But having yielded his antecedent proposition, what is the result? A bare probability--a mere likelihood of the occurrence of any event.

So much for the boasted “Doctrine of Chances.” Besides, I assert that every premise of the mathematician has been refuted by my experience as a gamester. In the proper place, I could disprove his every theory with a fact. For example: De Morgan and Proctor tell us that it is not probable seven could be thrown ten successive times, with a pair of dice. We are told, on good authority, that in 1813, a Mr. Ogden wagered 1,000 guineas that his opponent would not perform this feat. That gentleman threw seven _nine times_ running.

However, the mathematicians are not concerned with the right or wrong of play for money. They seek to demonstrate the inequalities of chance, hoping thus to dissuade humanity from its pursuit. Their efforts are idle. “The proverb which advises us to throw a sprat to catch a whale, shows that mankind consider a chance of a gain to be a benefit for which it is worth while to give up a proportionate certainty.” These gentlemen have extended their conjectures to the risks of loss or gain in general commerce; the probable continuity of life and duration of marriage; the contingencies in political results and the verdicts of juries; the distributions of sex in births, and even the probability of error in any opinion that may be generally received. In fact, should their guesses be heeded by the world, enterprise and hope would depart.

Another class of moralizers reject and deride the idea of “innate notions.” Truth, they maintain, is not to be found in worn out abstractions and moral senses, which are the weak reproductions of material organisms. In ethics, if they are to be followed, we must set out with the convictions that our materials are relative and not absolute, and that our highest moral conceptions must partake of the same character. As stated by Posnett, systems of ethics, more or less perfect in their day, have vanished in the progress of society and mind. Systems of ethics, whether we see or care to see it, are gliding from amongst us at this moment, while others, “with strange faces are growing familiar by the slowness of their approach.”

To illustrate from Chenebix: Nothing can appear more definite than virtue; yet, in Asia, the term may denote submission; in Europe and America, resistance; to Mussulmans war; to Christians, peace. Honor, too, which its votaries describe as one and incorruptible, assumes various significations. In some countries it prescribes revenge for an injury received; in others, forgiveness. Here, the violation of female chastity is a disgrace, elsewhere it is a duty. To a Mussulman the eating of pork is “vile and unclean: fills his soul with aversion, repugnance, disgust. To this habit their antipathy is deep and intuitive. To the natives of Western India, eating beef is sacrilegious and revolting. In Spain, any other worship than that established by the Catholic church is impious and in the highest degree offensive to God. The people of all Southern Europe regard a married clergy as irreligious, indecent, unchaste, gross and disgusting. Wherever the Puritans have been sufficiently powerful they have endeavored to put down all public, and nearly all private amusements: music, dancing, the theatre and public games.”

This denomination, strange as it may seem, also urge upon mankind what, in their opinion, is the “true moral rule”--the correct standard of right. It is that which is established by authority, custom, or general consent. A variable and doubtful criterion, this, one would naturally suppose. How severely has it been treated by Spencer and Carpenter. Right and wrong are not _essentially_ different. All moral distinctions are a matter of arbitrary establishment by the “powers that be.” That which is statutory, customary, fashionable, or generally habitual, is fit and proper. Conduct is purely a question of majority and might. Place gambling in the ascendant to-morrow and it would be just; or, as the major part of humanity, gamesters would be respectable; for an opinion commonly accepted is the correct opinion. With this as a guide, can the state hold the gamester reprobate?

Society keeps changing its sentiments with the centuries. Absolutely, we can never know when it is right or when it is wrong. The outlaw of one era is the idol of another. Servetus was immolated by the Calvinists, to-day he is a martyr to conscience. Bruno was burned as a heretic, now he is the hero of philosophy and science.

Galileo and Roger Bacon were once execrated by the church--their bones lie in unknown and unhonored graves. We regard them as brave pioneers of human thought. The formerly despised and hunted Christians are become the greatest power on earth. The Jew money-lender of the “dark ages” (whom such as Front-de-Bœuf once tortured with impunity) is the Rothschild of our century--“the guest of princes and the instigator of commercial wars.” Shylock is now an influential and courted capitalist. “All the glories of Alexander do not condone, in our eyes, for his cruelty in crucifying the brave defenders of Tyre, by thousands, along the sea-shore; and if Solomon, with his thousand wives and concubines, were to appear in London or New York to-morrow, even the most frivolous circles would be shocked, and Brigham Young, by contrast, seem a domestic model.”

From Cæsar we learn that the Suevi held their lands in common; that private property in the soil did not obtain with the Gauls and Germans. The same is true of the North American Indians and some of the Pacific Islanders. It is conceded, moreover, that communistic principles were generally prevalent in the earliest ages of the world. Then, any attempt at exclusive individual possession of land or chattel would have been deemed a theft.

The mediæval ideal was an ascetic and monastic life. To-day, millions regard such a course as unwise, if not wicked. Poverty, heretofore esteemed as the badge of honor and dignity, is by our era adjudged offensive. Nomadism prevailed in a former age. Now gypsies and tramps are the outcasts of society. Regarding marriage, public opinion has varied through all phases, without attaining finality. In earliest times how indiscriminate is the tie--the monstrous relation of brother and sister being the rule, rather than the exception. Polygamy prevails with one people and polyandry among another. In India and the Orient a wife is hidden from the dearest friend, while in Africa a chief will put his mate to bed with a guest. In Japan young women, even of good birth, “are free in their intercourse with men, till they are married; at Paris they are free after.”

In ancient Greece and Rome, again, marriage was not the highest conception, and largely “a matter of convenience and housekeeping.” Wives were little, if any better, than slaves. The class of women known as Hetairai (concubines and mistresses) were openly honored and trusted by both political and social leaders. The name of Aspasia is closely associated with that of Pericles. Theodota was the intimate of Socrates. Diotima has been immortalized in the “Symposium” of Plato.

The splendid ideal of our century is the monogamic state--“the great theme of romantic literature, and the climax of a myriad novels and poems.” In classic Greece the idealistic model was male friendship--comradeship. We have its type in the heroic figures of Harmodius and Aristogiton. The Theban Legion, or “Sacred Band,” exemplified the principle. No man might enter without his lover. Although annihilated at the battle of Chæronæa, it was never vanquished. The literature of Greece and Rome illuminate this exalted sentiment. The writings of Pliny the younger, Cicero and Lucian, are worthy of especial mention. Many sweet and noble friendships are embalmed in the poetry of Hellas and Latium; Demetrius and Antiphilus; Damon and Pythias; Phocion and Nicoles; Glaucus and Diomedes; Philades and Orestes; Cicero and Atticus; Socrates and Alcibiades; Lucilius and Brutus; Tiberius Gracchus and Blossius; Caius Gracchus and Licinus.

Suicide was not thought unworthy by the ancients. It was resorted to by Anthony, Brutus, Cassius, Cato, and Zeno. To-day, the attempt is a crime, and its consummation a disgrace. In Europe and America it is _felo-de-se_. Infanticide is common in many parts of Asia and Africa. To-day the feudal baron would be adjudged a freebooter; the knight-errant a brawling vagabond. A nineteenth century man may beat his wife within an inch of her life, and get but three months. For stealing a suit of clothes he would be “sent up” for years. So “gambling on ’change is now respectable enough, but pitch and toss for halfpence is low, and must be dealt with by the police. We know that when questions connected with life contingencies were first considered, it was regarded as most deliberate gambling to be in any way concerned in buying or selling such articles as annuities, or any interests depending upon them.” The age boasts of an advance in the humanities; and yet, public opinion permits extravagance and selfishness in the rich while the poor are starving. Our educated classes, generally, approve the vivisection of animals. In ancient Egypt it would have been stigmatized as the most abominable of crimes.

From age to age, likewise, law represents the code of the dominant or ruling class--at all times only valid because it is the code of those in power. How often used by “authority” for selfish purposes, may be read on every page of history. Monarchy, absolute or limited, is a synonym for injustice. Feudalism is another term for murder, rapine and extortion. In Spain, the lands of nobles were long exempted from direct taxation. For centuries the Hungarian turnpikes were free to the aristocracy. Prior to the revolution in France, all burdens of state devolved upon the lower classes. Less than two centuries ago Scotch lairds exported their peasantry into slavery. Students will recall the “Black Act” of George I., and the “Inclosure Laws” of England. Until quite recently, slavery existed in Europe and America; nor has the institution wholly disappeared from the earth. Legislation is mainly in the interest of the wealthy and powerful. Congress and legislatures are making the rich richer, and the poor poorer. Government is largely devoted to the creation and upholding of corporations, trusts, monopolies, subsidies and extortionate tariffs. What care the politicians for manhood? Wealth is their God.

“Let your rule be the greatest happiness to the greatest number,” interposes another authority. But are men agreed in their definition of “greatest happiness?” Different notions of it are entertained in all ages, amongst every people, by each class. “To the wandering gypsy a home is tiresome, whilst a Swiss is miserable without one. Progress is necessary to the Anglo-Saxons; on the other hand, the Esquimaux are content in their squalid poverty, have no latent wants, and are still what they were in the days of Tacitus. An Irishman delights in a row, a Chinaman in ceremonies and pageantry, and the usually apathetic Javanese gets vociferously enthusiastic over a cock-fight. The heaven of the Hebrew is a city of gold and precious stones, with an abundance of corn and wine; that of the Turk, a harem peopled by Houris; that of the American Indian, a happy hunting-ground; in the Norse paradise there were to be daily battles, with magical healing of wounds. It was, seemingly, the opinion of Lycurgus, that perfect physical development was the chief essential to human felicity; Plotinus, on the contrary, was so purely ideal in his aspirations as to be ashamed of his body. To a miserly Elwes, the hoarding of money was the only enjoyment of life; but the philanthropic Day could find no pleasurable employment, save in its distribution.”

Francis, Duke of La Rochefoucault, likened the soul of man unto a medal, so constructed that it may represent either a saint or a devil. Montaigne, also, said the soul of man was double-faced; the inner beamed upon self-love, while the outer wore a mask. Voltaire was a scoffer: a master of satire, who ridiculed without mercy every human weakness. In “Zadig” and “Micromegas” he mocked the ignorance and self-conceit of mankind. His “Memnon,” the “Wise Memnon,” who, in the morning, foreswore all women, made a vow of temperance, renounced gaming and quarreling, and determined never to be seen at court, was, before the night of the same day, cheated and robbed by a female, got drunk, gamed, quarreled with his most intimate friend, and made a visit to court, where everyone laughed at him. The moral of “Candide, or the Optimist,” is, as interpreted by Smollett, that nothing is more absurd than the exercise of human reason; that nothing is more futile and frivolous than the cultivation of philosophy; that mankind are savages, who devour one another. This is cynicism, pure and simple. I cannot endure a creed so ghastly: a philosophy that suspects Socrates of incontinence, charges Epicurus with prodigality, accuses Aristotle of covetousness, and can say of Seneca that “he had but the single virtue of concealing his vices.” Horace took a more charitable view of the moral philosophers, and ascribed their weakness to inability rather than hypocrisy. The poet says that men “upon the stage of this world are like a company of travelers whom night has surprised as they are passing through a forest; they walk on, relying upon the guide, who immediately misleads them through ignorance. All of them use what care they can to find the beaten path again; everyone takes a different path, and is in good hopes his is the best; the more they fill themselves with these vain imaginations the farther they wander; but though they wander a different way, yet it proceeds from one and the same cause; ’tis the guide that misled them, and the obscurity of the night hinders them from recovering the right road.”

In truth, the mind of man, unaided by Divine light, is not able to determine what is absolutely right or absolutely wrong. In the realm of morals, man is to be guided only by the decrees of God, if known. For those who recognize the Bible as His word, the way is clear. Aside from this, the path is dark and uncertain. But nowhere in either the Old or New Testament, is gambling forbidden. Not a word did Moses or Jesus utter against it, as a general principle, or in any of its particular forms. What is commanded by God is our only test of right and wrong. Theology is of man, and yet it is a fact that gambling, in itself, is not inconsistent with the profession of any creed in Christendom. The ablest theologian cannot successfully challenge this proposition.

For the sake of argument, heretofore, I have granted the moral freedom of man. The fact is, I deny his “liberty,” save in the most restricted sense. I am convinced every action is determined by the resultant force of conflicting motives. However, the possible autonomy of man is not necessary to a consideration of what it is right or best to do. It is only when we ask about the conduct of man, in his relation to the law, that it is important to know whether he could have done otherwise. I reserve the topic for a subsequent chapter.

Be this as it may, certain conclusions are obvious to the impartial observer. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to draw a strict boundary between the virtues and vices. Courage should not be carried to the point of rashness. Timidity is the abuse of prudence. Generosity can degenerate into improvidence. Reverence might merge into credulity and superstition. Arrogance is the extreme of self-respect. Chastity is overdone by the monastic. Some writers, in fact, deny a fixed line between the virtuous and vicious passions; this class boldly maintain a place for both vices and virtues. Hatred may be just and anger magnificent. Although out of place in a drawing-room, obstinacy is a virtue on the field of battle. Love is divine and lust monstrous. Are they not yoke-fellows? Reformers, so called, are impossible without stupid candor and impassive bluntness. Timidity, on the other hand, is the defect of a sensitive temperament. Sensuality underlies the domain of art, painting, sculpture and music.

This is suggested by Plato in the “Phædrus”--an allegory of the soul, wherein the spirit of man is depicted as a chariot to which are attached a white and black horse. The first typifies our higher and the latter our lower passions.

Mr. Lecky writes in his “History of Morals,” that in society certain defects necessarily accompany certain excellencies of character. He remarks, “Had the Irish peasants been less chaste they would have been more prosperous.” “Habitual liars and habitual cheats have been industrious, amiable and prudent.” “Civilization is not favorable to self-sacrifice, reverence, enthusiasm or chastity.” He declares of the gambling table, “that it fosters a moral nerve and calmness scarcely exhibited in equal perfection in any other sphere--a fact which Bret Harte has finely illustrated in his character of Mr. John Oakhurst, in the ‘Outcasts of Poker Flat.’”

This thought is boldly illustrated by Mandeville, in his “Fable of the Bees:”

“These were called knaves, but, bar the name, The grave industrious were the same: All trades and places knew some cheat, No calling was without deceit.

The root of evil, avarice, That damn’d, ill-natured, baneful vice, Was slave to prodigality, _That noble sin_; whilst luxury Employed a million of the poor, And odious pride a million more: Envy, itself, and vanity Were ministers of industry, Their darling folly, fickleness, In diet, furniture and dress, That strange, ridiculous vice, was made The very wheel that turned the trade.”

The author of this unique production announced that his main design was to indicate the impossibility of enjoying all the most elegant comforts of life “that are to be met with in an industrious, wealthy and powerful nation, and at the same time be blessed with all the virtue and innocence that can be wished for in a golden age; from thence to expose the folly and unreasonableness of those that, desirous of being an opulent and flourishing people, are wonderfully greedy after all the benefits they can receive as such, are yet always murmuring against those vices and inconveniences, that from the beginning of the world to the present day, have been inseparable from all the kingdoms and states that ever were formed for strength, riches and politeness.”

“To do this, I first slightly touch upon some of the faults and corruptions the several professions and callings are generally charged with. After that I show that those very vices of every particular person, by skillful management, were made subservient to the grandeur and worldly happiness of the whole. Lastly, by setting forth what of necessity must be the consequence of general honesty, virtue, innocence, content and temperance, I demonstrate that if mankind could be cured of the failings they are naturally guilty of, they would cease to be capable of being raised into such vast, potent, and polite societies, as they have been under the several commonwealths and monarchies that have flourished since creation.”

Not yet, then, have we found the human standard by which the gambler is to be denounced.

Gamblers are accused of avarice, and an inordinate desire for wealth. As a rule, the gamester is not penurious. A miserly or covetous grasp of money is inconsistent with his vocation. Concede the accusation, and is he alone? Is he more greedy of gain than other men? History refutes the charge. Money is the god of the world. Get enormous wealth is the cry, no matter how; no matter how many impoverished widows and squalid orphans are crying out to heaven, day and night, against you; and such slavish adulation as the world knows not beside are yours. The passion for wealth increases gradually, as its end is achieved, the world over. Its effects are manifest wherever men strive for gold.

“Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold, Molten, graven, hammered, rolled; Heavy to get, and light to hold; Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold; Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old To the very verge of the church-yard mould, Price of many a crime untold; Gold! gold! gold! gold!”--_Thomas Hood._

The _morale_ of gambling is not to be determined by political economy, which is not a part of moral philosophy. It is not founded on the imperations of duty, but upon the adequate footing of desirableness of self-interest. In the language of Prof. Perry: “One word circumscribes the field of morals, ought. One word defines the field of economy, expediency.” So far as it is a science, political economy is cold and selfish; “budded on monopoly values.” Judged by such a standard, gambling would be right, if expedient.

Yes, but is not gambling a destructive luxury? Is it not a wasteful expenditure of money? I answer, what is luxury, and is it always an evil? Roscher well says: “The idea conveyed by the word is an essentially relative one.” Every individual calls all expenditure with which he chooses to dispense, a luxury. The same is true of every age and nation. “’Tis a word without any specific idea,” wrote Voltaire, “much such another expression as when we say Eastern and Western hemispheres: in fact, there is no such thing as East and West; there is no fixed point where the earth rises and sets; or, if you will, every point on it is, at the same time, East and West. It is the same with regard to luxury; for either there is no such thing, or else it is in all places alike.... Do we understand by luxury the expense of an opulent person? Must he, then, live like the poor, he whose profusion, alone, is sufficient to maintain the poor? Expensiveness should be the thermometer of a private person’s fortune, as general luxury is the infallible mark of a powerful and flourishing empire.... Money is made for circulation. He who hoards it is a bad citizen, and even a bad economist. It is by dissipating it we render ourselves useful to our country and ourselves.” David Hume also thought the word of uncertain signification. He said: “The bound between virtue and vice cannot here be exactly fixed, more than in other moral subjects. To imagine that the gratification of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy, is of itself a vice, can never enter into a head that is not disordered by the frenzies of enthusiasm. These indulgences are only vices, when they are pursued at the expense of some virtue, as liberality of charity; in like manner as they are follies, when a man ruins his fortune and reduces himself to want and beggary.” Again, William Roscher, the political economist, was of opinion that “prodigality is less odious than avarice; less irreconcilable with certain virtues;” and that “prodigality, directly or indirectly, increases the demand for commodities.” We know the Epicureans and Stoics were reproached with being bad citizens, because their moderation was a hindrance to trade. Gambling is no more a luxury than many other practices of mankind. Some persons may prefer it as a pastime to any other form of luxury. Who is to decide a question of taste and expense but the individual concerned? One man indulges lavishly in pictures, books, and clothes; another is prodigal in the matter of tobacco and liquors; a third delights in the excitement of chance. All these inclinations are luxurious. Which is preferable to each, is not for society to determine in one case, more than in the others. In a word, the phases of luxury are so variable and extensive that it is equally unjust and impracticable for the state to discriminate unfavorably.

The gambler is said to be idle and non-productive: that a _quid pro quo_ is not given for what he receives. What is meant here by idleness and non-production? Does it signify that _labor_ is the proper basis of exchangeable value: the _only_ just source of what is called wealth? If so, the condemnation includes all who obtain wealth without working for it. Suppose it be admitted that _service_ is the one equitable title to property. What, then, of _assumed_ rights, in the form of profits, dividends, rent and interest? If _true_ wealth is the outcome of physical labor, are not banker, broker, middleman, landlord, capitalist, gentleman of leisure and gambler on the same footing.

Bishop Jewel once said: “If I lend £100, and for it covenant to receive £105, or any other sum greater than was the sum I did lend, this is that we call usury: such a kind of bargaining as no good man, or godly man, ever used.” Many contend that interest contributes nothing to the support of society, but is a tax on labor. Those who receive it are said to be extortioners who live on the gains of other people. Christ, Buddha, Zoroaster, and Mahomet all put usury in the category of forbidden sins.

It is discountenanced by Ezekiel, Moses, David, Aristotle, Cato, St. Basil, Masse, Bacon, Buxton, Dr. Wilson and Fenton. Ricardo, the great economist, was of the opinion that rent is not a creation of wealth, and adds nothing to the necessaries, conveniences and enjoyments of society. Adam Smith, the father of political economy, considered rent as a monopoly price paid for the use of land. Were this true, the owner of a house, when it had paid for itself, could rightfully charge for its use, the cost of his labor in transferring it to you, and the amount of wear and tear.

It is said of the gambler that he is not a man of equivalents. But, if wealth is to be a question of exact equality in values and labor, then must business generally be condemned. The great legists, Pomponius and Paulus, unblushingly said, that “In buying and selling, a man has a natural right to purchase for a small price what is really more valuable, and to sell at a high price what is less valuable, and for each to overreach the other.” Harsh as this may seem, it but voiced the principles of trade in every age of the world. “Trade is war,” said the ancient proverb; “and as a nail between the stone joints, so does sin stick fast between buying and selling.” Business is advantage-taking erected into a system. Get as much more than you give as is possible. A thing is worth what it will bring. You may rightfully take from another what he is compelled to yield. Exchange is not a rendering of equivalent for equivalent; but an effort to get the largest possible amount of another’s property, or services, for the least possible return. In business, justice and mercy are daily displaced by extortion and mastership: “the producing classes are vassal to the speculating classes; the creators of wealth to its stealthy possessors.”

The Christian Fathers deprecated trade. “To seek to enrich one’s self is in itself unjust,” said Clement; “since it aims at appropriating an unfair share of what was intended for the common use of men.” “If covetousness is removed,” argued Tertullian, “there is no reason for gain, and, if there is no reason for gain, there is no need of trade.” Jerome taught that “as the trader did not himself add to the value of his wares, therefore, if he gained more for them than he paid, his gain must be another’s loss.” To Augustine, “business in itself is an evil, for it turns men from seeking true rest, which is God.” Aquinas decided “that to buy a thing for less, or sell a thing for more than its value is, in itself, unallowable and unjust.”

It has been estimated by Bastiat, Karl Marx and Nordau, that laborers are unjustly deprived of the value of four days labor in each week. Terrible is the injustice to wage-earners, the world over, if the deductions of Carpenter and Godwin are to be accepted. “Behold the hire of the laborers which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.” Proudhon and Spencer have revealed the “economic’s lies” of modern society. “The great game of the business world is the game of getting on,” wrote John Ruskin; “not of everybodies getting on, but of somebody getting on. What to one family is the game of getting on, to one thousand families is the game of not getting on. Nay, you say, they have all their chance. Yes, so has every one in a lottery, but there must always be the same number of blanks. Ah! but in a lottery it is not skill and intelligence that take the lead, but blind chance. What then! do you think the old practice that they should take who have the power, and they should keep who can, is less iniquitous when the power has become the power of brains instead of fist?”

Is this a world of equivalents in labor? What is the ratio of riches awarded to those who toil? In 1860, the net average income was but three per cent. Yet, for that year the income of bare money (which needs no food, clothing or shelter), was all the way from five to thirty per cent. In England 30,000,000 people are taxed that interest may be paid to 300,000. In 1870, the interest on the national debts of the world amounted to $1,700,000,000. This rate in nine years would absorb a sum equal to the entire property of this country in 1870. We are informed that trade is annually taxed (interest on capital) about $200,000,000, for which not one dollar of actual service is rendered. Is interest on “watered” stock any better than theft?

A world of equivalents, indeed! In our cities five per cent of the population own more property than ninety-five per cent; and twenty per cent of the nation own more than the remaining eighty per cent. At the present rate of increase, within thirty years, 100,000 persons will own four-fifths of all the property in the United States. In twenty-five years the number of our people who own their homes has decreased from five-eighths to three-eighths. In New York City more than 1,100,000 persons are dwelling in tenement houses. “In 1889, the farm mortgages in the western states amounted to _three billion four hundred and twenty-two million dollars_.” In England, to-day, there are less than 30,000 landed proprietors--one-half of the country is owned by 150 men. Twelve men own one-half of Scotland. The working classes of the United Kingdom own but a thirtieth part of the total real and personal property.

Strictly considered, two things are said to be equivalent when they are “equal in value.” Generally speaking, however, interchanges are seldom, if ever, “alike in worth.” The equality of labor for labor does not occur once in millions of times. “Value” is an indefinite term. Into “worth” enters such intangible qualities as whim, caprice, taste, fancy, ambition, pride, habit, desire, appetite, passion and amusement. Exact and utilitarian standards would destroy _belle lettres_ and the fine arts; dissipate recreation and the amenities of life. Are there precise “work-a-day” equivalents for literature, music, sculpture, painting; for the opera, the theatre, the salon, the club-room? Gaming is an amusement for many persons. Thousands enjoy the excitements of chance. It stimulates their spirits above the cares and drudgery of existence. Such men prefer a game to either book, piano or cigar. With them it is not a question of utility but of diversion. Is the value of entertainment to be measured in muscle or metal?

Wherein, essentially, does gaming differ from speculation or insurance? All have their foundation in chance. Contingencies and uncertainties enter into each as a consideration for investment. A gamester bets upon the turn of a card, or the cast of a die. The speculator purchases in anticipation of contingent advance in the price of a commodity. A corporation indemnifies an individual, conditionally, against possible death or loss by fire. In neither instance can the result be foretold: the gamester may or may not win, the speculator may or may not realize a profit, the assured may or may not forfeit his life policy, or lose by fire. In every transaction, fortuity is the controlling element; if for this reason any one is invalid or immoral, so are the others. Large sums have been won and lost at cards. Many fortunes had their origin in speculation: also, it has been productive of widespread disaster, distress and despair. Insurance companies have benefited thousands of widows and orphans. Innumerable are the families upon whom indigence has fallen through the forfeiture of policies. Forfeited premiums to the amount of millions are now invested in palatial structures throughout the civilized world. Analysis might show in gaming, speculation and insurance, that at least the equities and ethics are even.

View the subject as we may, ye gamester, “where is thine accuser?” To all men he can say: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.”

Now, some one may ask: “Is not gambling immoral to the extent it may induce a reliance upon chance for a livelihood, instead of patient industry.” I might reply: “What is industry, as known to political economy; and what proportion of the world’s wealth is a result of direct personal exertion?” But, generally, men are rational creatures, and do not depend upon games of chance for a living. The credulous men are relatively few who rely entirely upon the outcome of chance in games as a business; and those few are at least on a par in wisdom and ethics with the millions who gamble in future prices of stocks, grain, and other commodities. “Ah! but you forget,” rejoins my critic, “that in other pursuits a man produces something by his industry, or contributes to that result indirectly, whereas in gambling nothing is produced.” I consider this erroneous, in the face of social experience, as has been indicated heretofore. It may be as soundly said, that a “man has no right to invest his money in cattle, or lands, or bonds, unless his labor is put in with it. A man buys a horse and hires him to his neighbor. Is he entitled to the money his horse earns for him? He invests in bonds at fifty cents on the dollar. Does he not hope they will appreciate in value, until they are worth dollar for dollar? He pays $1000 for a piece of land. In two or three years, perhaps, his neighbors have invested around him, and have improved their properties, and he finds that his land will sell for $2000. His labor did not contribute to that result. He risked his capital exactly as he would have done in a game of chance.”

The Destinies;

or,

The Reign of Law.