SCIENCE AND MAN 



when extended to the race. Most of 

 you have been forced to listen to the 

 outcries and denunciations which rang 

 discordant through the land for some 

 years after the publication of Mr. Darwin's 

 Origin of Species. Well, the world even 

 the clerical world has for the most part 

 settled down in the belief that Mr. 

 Darwin's book simply reflects the truth 

 of nature : that we who are now " fore- 

 most in the files- of time " have come to 

 the front through almost endless stages 

 of promotion from lower to higher forms 

 of life. 



If to any one of us were given the 

 privilege of looking back through the 

 rcons across which life has crept towards 

 its present outcome, his vision, according 

 to Darwin, would ultimately reach a 

 point when the progenitors of this 

 assembly could not be called human. 

 From that humble society, through the 

 interaction of its members and the 

 storing up of their best qualities, a better 

 one emerged ; from this again a better 

 still ; until at length, by the integration 

 of infinitesimals through ages of ameliora- 

 tion, we came to be what we are to-day. 

 We of this generation had no conscious 

 share in the production of this grand 

 and beneficent result. Any and every 

 generation which preceded us had just 

 as little share. The favoured organisms 

 whose garnered excellence constitutes 

 cur present store owed their advantages, 

 first, to what we in our ignorance are 

 obliged to call "accidental variation"; 

 and, secondly, to a law of heredity in 

 the passing of which our suffrages were 

 not collected. With characteristic felicity 

 and precision Mr. Matthew Arnold lifts 

 this question into the free air of poetry, 

 but not out of the atmosphere of truth, 

 when he ascribes the process of ameliora- 

 tion to "a power not ourselves which 

 makes for righteousness." If, then, our 

 organisms, with all their tendencies and 

 capacities, are given to us without our 

 being consulted ; and if, while capable 

 of acting within certain limits in accord- 

 ance with our wishes, we are not masters 

 of the circumstances in which motives 



and wishes originate ; if, finally, our 

 motives and wishes determine our actions 

 | in what sense can these actions be 

 I said to be the result of free-will ? 



Here, again, we are confronted with 

 I the moral responsibility, which, as it has 

 been much talked of lately, it is desirable 

 \ to meet. With the view of removing 

 I the fear of our falling back into the con- 

 dition of " the ape and tiger," so sedu- 

 | lously excited by certain writers, I propose 

 j to grapple with this question in its 

 rudest form, and in the most uncom- 

 ! promising way. " If," says the robber, 

 the ravisher, or the murderer, " I act 

 because I must act, what right have you 

 to hold me responsible for my deeds ?" 

 The reply is, " The right of society to 

 protect itself against aggressive and 

 injurious forces, whether they be bond 

 or free, forces of nature or forces of 

 man." " Then," retorts the criminal, 

 " you punish me for what I cannot help." 

 " Let it be granted," says society ; " but 

 had you known that the treadmill or the 

 gallows was certainly in store for you, 

 you might have 'helped.' Let us reason 

 the matter fully and frankly out. We 

 may entertain no malice or hatred against 

 you; it is enough that with a view to 

 our own safety and purification we are 

 determined that you and such as you 

 shall not enjoy liberty of evil action in 

 our midst. You, who have behaved as 

 a wild beast, we claim the right to cage 

 or kill as we should a wild beast. The 

 public safety is a matter of more impor- 

 tance than the very limited chance of 

 your moral renovation, while the know- 

 ledge that you have been hanged by the 

 neck may furnish to others about to do 

 as you have done the precise motive 

 which will hold them back. If your act 

 be such as to invoke a minor penalty, then 

 not only others, but yourself, may profit 

 by the punishment which we inflict. On 

 the homely principle that ' a burnt child 

 dreads the fire,' it will make you think 

 twice before venturing on a repetition of 

 your crime. Observe, finally, the con- 

 sistency of our conduct. You offend, 



