once found beautifully workable and is at least still voluble, by me, to present-day deafness, perhaps.

But before I do proceed to introduce and amplify my revived imperative, let me, to make it room, for the brief remainder of this Second Book examine certain extant and still reputable, but more or less dilapidated and undermined social measures, and try to sweep away the worthless. For so a proper spiritual builder must, before he brings on his own "architecture," sweep away usurping piles, leveling relentlessly all leaning towers of authority, all cluttered chambers of disuse, all guileful labyrinths, and all the world's sweet inns adjacent which could deceive or drowse a possible discipleship. Then o'er the wreckage he has wrought shall rise the temple of his own neat plan.

5. PRINCIPLE

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Ask the average reformer, professional or amateur, what average unreformed humanity most needs, and it is ten to one he tells you, Principle; to get more principle into its make-up; to brace and build its moral fibre." What, then, we must next ask, is the nature of this tonic Principle that is to raise the spiritual health-rate of society? And lest the average reformer unnecessarily complicate things, let us leave him to his reformations and try to answer shortly for ourselves.

Principle itself is of course a compound of principles, but happily for our powers of endurance there is no need to enumerate. From these numerous principles may be formulated a composite principle, the divers formulas of these being swallowed all and well digested into "Do as you'd be done by," as the wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best their doctrine has to say. Will not this formula suffice? Is it not sufficiently elastic? It may be stretched to signify "Do as you hope to be done by "but seldom is, I believe; it may be twisted into "Don't do as you wouldn't be done by "the shape under which it sometimes operates; and it may be squeezed down into "Do as you are willing to be done by if ever you are fool enough to occupy the other fellow's place "— a very popular version, I have reason to suppose. An elastic formula, certainly. Quite too elastic, some might say, and proceed to make suggestions; but none need trouble to, because for purposes of present remark it does not minutely matter what any or all principles have to say. What I have now to say will fit any and all formulas of principle.

First, then, notice that enunciation of any principle in the ear of conscience by whatever inner or outer voice, is by no means the whole business. Would it were; for then, with all the numerous enunciations which now vibrate in and round about us, there might be some chance of getting a number of desirable things done. Nor is it possible

that there is not enough interior and exterior enunciation: would that were so; for then greater publicity were easily to be got: who that reads newspapers or public libraries does not know one amiable philotomist at least who would back a Principle Publicity Company, bearing his own name? But the amiable backer may invest to better advantage elsewhere, for in this business the fact is, friends, that announcements and announcers both have become of late abounding bores, to no proportionate betterment of our principles. Not only do our amply present opportunities for splendid application remain embraced of very few, but our omnipresent opportunities for dirty enough desecration of principle are rather eagerly seized upon. We still slander our enemies, deceive our friends, cheat our customers, smuggle goods if we dare, keep rotten tenements if we are rich or a church corporation, and pour our sewage into other people's water supply,— not at all in ignorance but in absolute contempt of principle. And in various parts of the country high-principled persons hold up astonished hands at our doings, themselves an interesting and pathetic sight.

An interesting and pathetic sight, I say, because they really expect us to be ruled by principle, and are painfully disappointed when they find how few of us care anything about it. Whereas the reasons of this general indifference are natural enough and not necessarily discouraging. Let us begin again at the status quo and continue our re

searches into how a principle, having got itself heard, gets itself duly practised, or rather shall we not say? — into why it usually fails in the second undertaking. But this being a matter of mental behavior, we must consult our friends the psychologists.

Our psychological friends assure us that before all action comes emotion, that feeling is behind all doing whatsoever, and that the practice of a principle or anything else depends upon the power of its appeal to our feelings. To what feelings, then, and with what power, does principle appeal?

The feelings to which a principle or anything else must appeal for performance are those of Love and Fear, which in some kind and degree impel all our performances. Now with respect to pure and simple Principle-for-its-own-sake, which feeling gives the impulse-love or fear is nowise doubtful. Once in a while we meet some transcendental person, a specimen of the rare Emersonian species, who has been ravished by the beauty of Eternal Law and yields it a delighted obedience; but the greater part of our small principled class are not in love with principle. Their feeling toward it for its own sake is probably some modern derivative of old-time fear, such as awe at its sudden" unconditional command" or reverence for its lofty character. "Reverence for Moral Law" is the formula which Kant, once Chief Formulator in this matter, pronounced the proper impulse of all principled conduct, and then added

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that perhaps no conduct ever was purely so impelled, which somewhat diminishes the value of his formula. The fact is and it does not call for proof, since even Kant could see it that few and very few, if any of us at all, have such a fund of reverential feeling or see any reason why we ought to get one or regret the lack of it. "Why," we ask unless we are of the funded few why should we obey the voice of Principle, an abstract, bloodless, lifeless thing, that never yet did anything for anybody to deserve his love and obedience?" This we ask, those of us who do not love the thing for its own sake, and who also think occasionally, but with a vague feeling of our rebellion; for the old tyranny of principle is deepseated, and we are new to questioning. But are we not right? What right have principles as such to command anything? If they can charm us into delighted obedience, well and good; but when, failing to be lovable, they try to be terrible, standing off and shouting unconditional commands at us,— what of that? If Duty is, as they tell us it began by being, a matter of actual repayment, these demands of principles are, I fear, somewhat in the nature of extortion. A bullying and extortionate lot are principles: - are they not indeed decidedly unprincipled?

All this, I think, those of us who sometimes meditate the matter are resolved upon, and the rest dimly realize. There is no duty about the