if this were the place, go further, and show that if any man would not tinker only, but attempt effectually to solve the difficult problem of religion and science at this day, he but wastes his effort in discussing other systems and particular items of difficulty, when there before him the solution lies, in the harmony of New Church doctrine and the doctrine of evolution. Let him unify these, and he shall have as far surpassed the position to which Spencer has brought the world's thought, as Spencer's position of firm and immovable fact surpasses in solidity and durable worth, the ceaseless sand-shiftings of profitless metaphysics.

But I must not conclude without clearing away two probable misconceptions.

It may be thought that Spencer's doctrine only leaves us in nature -is pure naturalism. Even if this could be proved, it would not disturb in the least the meaning and force of his argument as applying, in other hands, to the supernatural. But this attribution of naturalism involves a misconception; whatever may be Spencer's individual belief, his doctrine expressly excludes the supposition. His doctrine does not refer to this or that possibility of unconditioned existence (indeed the thing is an absurdity Spencer was the least likely to fall into), but applies, and alone applies, to that Unconditional Existence which actually is, whatever that existence may be,-an abstract, formal argument to prove that there must be such Infinite Being, without declaring for or against its personality. It would be for others to show, if they can show, that that Being is a Person. It is one of Spencer's express positions, that "those who, not deterred by foregone conclusions, have pushed their analysis to the uttermost, see very clearly that the concept we form to ourselves of matter is but the symbol of some form of Power absolutely and for ever unknown to us; and a symbol which we cannot suppose to be like the reality without involving ourselves in contradictions." Is this naturalism? but, in fact, there can be no ism in a purely formal doctrine. The doctrine itself, if true, is the best denial of it. And Spencer's doctrine is, that that Power is neither matter nor motion, nor force, in a word, it is not nature. Nay, on the contrary, it is essentially super-natural, otherwise it would not be unconditioned, since nature and the conditioned are equivalent terms. To attach a moral charge to a formal doctrine, moreover, is to confound the concrete with the abstract.

The doctrine standing out thus clearly, it might appear as if, from henceforth, all were to be plain sailing for the Church: this involves

another misconception. I have shewn that Spencer answers materialism by proving it inconceivable, but he likewise so answers theism! Another strand, then, to be added to the foregoing thread of argument, as to the actuality and unknowableness of the First Cause, is this of its inconceivableness; and the consequent inconceivableness of every hypothesis we can form concerning it. Some will be unable to imagine that so thorough-going an asserter of a First Cause should not believe in the personality of that cause; and will wonder where he can possibly find a foothold between actuality and a limitless abstraction. The shadow of this dark outcome may even be allowed to dim the brightness of so much actual good work as we have seen him accomplish. Others, also, knowing more of his doctrine, will remember that he has disclaimed any support given by his theory "to either of the antagonistic hypotheses respecting the ultimate nature of things." But is any doctrine of an unknowable thing conceivable? Are we, then, stopped short? Can we rationally affirm personality of this First Cause? Is it, or is it not GOD?

If we, as theists, by Spencer's help, go beyond (as we think) the truth he has given us, we at least do so by his own express prohibition; and he himself would undoubtedly hold that very fact to imply either a misapprehension of his doctrine, or a previous theistic prejudice too strong for pure philosophy to eradicate, and would bid us keep by the creed we are able to receive; but, happily, the principle of "no thoroughfare" does not apply in the fields of truth, and the right of way is his who can rationally assert the same. Our next step onward may be expressed as "Spencer and Theism."

THOMAS CHILD.

Erratum.-In last number, p. 171, 6th line from bottom, for End read Ens.

HUMAN AUTHORITY, IN THE STATE, IN SOCIETY,
AND IN THE CHURCH.

II.-IN SOCIETY.

HAVING seen the meaning and use of, and our duties towards, human law, which is rather understood than formulated, and is voluntarily imposed rather than of compulsory observance, we now turn to notice the nature of human authority, which, though not always supported by statute law, imposes compulsory obligations. In this field of in

quiry we meet with every form of law that has prevailed anywhere on earth, or at any time in the world's history. We meet with patriarchal and despotic authority, theocratic and socialistic authority, the authority of one, of a few, of many, and of all. There is authority from which there is no appeal, it is purely arbitrary; and there is authority which is based upon the voice of the whole country. In business, in institutions, clubs, societies, schools, political organizations, colleges, and domestic circles, human authority is a strange medley of absurdity and wisdom, of tyranny and license, of lust and love. It shows us man struggling with stern necessity, and rushing into extremes in hopes of discovering some sure way to happiness, prosperity, and successful enterprise; and though it often brings but a poor reward yet its general use is neither small in extent, nor unimportant in result.

Here again I wish it to be distinctly understood that I am not the apologist of human authority in schools and business firms, in clubs or political organizations. Looking round, I see society enclosed in a network of laws either voluntarily imposed, or forced upon it through stern necessity. Man is nowhere free. And as one upon whom these laws press with varying severity, sometimes unjustly, and again exercising the most friendly and gracious influence, I study them as the naturalist would the camel, in order to understand their nature.

The first lessons we receive in obedience to law is at home, by our own fireside, and at an age when we are not wholly responsible for our actions. Every man's home is his castle, and to the little folks who are dependent on others for their support, the paternal voice is imperative. Within certain limits the head of each family is possessed of undisputed authority. He does not consult his children's whims, caprices, or likes, except according to his own judgment. He is judge supreme of his children's conduct. His children retire at the hour he fixes, rise, eat, dress, and come here or go there as they are ordered. As might be expected, such a government is fraught with many evils; because they are not always wise and discerning men who dispense it. It is full of imperfections and abuses. In some cases its administration is too lax, in others it is too severe, and in many instances it is criminally unjust. I think it was William Cobbet who said that "the Factory Act was intended to protect children from the injustice of their parents." Home government may be based upon love, but for all that it is purely empirical, and where love is not guided by wisdom it runs either into needless severity or flagrant license, and where love is only storge,

government is little better than animal force. Against the injustices of parental authority the Education Act was framed, and also the Agricultural Labourers Act. In the hands of ignorance, poverty, selfishness, bigotry, and ill-temper, parental authority commits much wrong, and is open to much censure. Religious parents too often make religion hateful to their children by sabbatarianism, and pious discipline; and the irreligious allow their children to commit irregularities because they do so themselves. There is much every way to pity, to deplore, to condemn. And yet, so far as we know, parental authority, despotic and unjust though it often is, is the best thing under all circumstances. It produces greater good in the end, with all its drawbacks, than a wholesale system of boarding out in training establishments could hope to accomplish, and only where injustice becomes a national loss does the state restrict its exercise by statute law.

In schools authority is similar to authority in homes; it is vested in one person, and it is a pure despotism. It has, however, many voluntary checks. There is the master's own moral nature, culture, and it may be spiritual charity, all which help to keep him from any undue exercise of power. Then there are the virtues which spring out of self-interest. For a money consideration men become perfect saints. They are full of kindly adaptation, they are patient, considerate of the feelings of others, genial and good-tempered, tolerant, desirous of pleasing, and in short, truly amiable and most wishful to serve. And where authority is purely despotic, the influence of these self-seeking virtues is most excellent. Still, at the best, school authority is only an imperfect means for shaping imperfect material. It is, however, indispensable all the same; it is a power for good of the first magnitude; we reap enormous benefit from it, and schools whose government is absolute monarchy, are among our permanent institutions.

When we come to business and clubs, authority assumes a new form. In business men enter into contracts and partnerships, and in order to protect themselves, they make and subscribe to certain laws which impose compulsory obligations. No man can safely trust his neighbour. And this is as true of religious men as of any other class. If two or twenty saints, or two or twenty sinners, become partners, each protects himself by the provisions of a contract. Laws are made, and each one binds himself to keep them or to forfeit some privilege. If a contract is broken the offender may be sued for damages. What a man undertakes to perform in a business point of view, however

small, usually involves many interests. If he fails to meet his contract, those who have based their calculations upon its fulfilment are of necessity disappointed; they may be ruined. Human interests in commerce are so complicated, that no one man fails in his duty without injuring the interests of others; and when a man undertakes to perform a certain work, he must either do it according to contract, or answer for the offence before the public authorities. In workshops each master makes his own regulations, and each workman, after accepting the conditions of employment, is bound to discharge his engagement, or become liable for a criminal offence. Trade laws are the safeguards of trade interests. Though we may have perfect confidence in the honour, integrity, uprightness, and fidelity of each other, yet this confidence is never trusted in partnerships and contracts. Safety lies in something more tangible than reputation; human nature is proverbially frail and halting, and whatever be a man's real or professional character, it never frees him from the necessity of subscribing like others to legal authority. Only under the stern requirements of law does our manhood feel its responsibilities, put forth its hidden resources, meet its engagements punctually, brace itself to carry the burdens that life imposes, and show its tenacity of purpose. The imperative must makes us men, where the indulgent may leaves us puppets dallying."

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Turning last of all to that wide-spread social institution the club, we still find human authority playing, in figurative language, "first fiddle." Clubs rank among the most humanizing institutions of our age, as they are justly among the most popular. Speaking of these institutions some few months back, the Master of the Rolls, Lord Romilly, said, "Clubs are very peculiar institutions. They are societies of gentlemen who meet principally for social purposes, superadded to which there are often other purposes, sometimes of a literary nature, sometimes to promote political objects. But the principal objects for which they are designed are social, the others are only secondary. It is therefore necessary that there should be a good understanding between all the members, and that nothing should occur likely to disturb the good feeling that ought to exist among them. It follows that a club is a partnership of a perfectly different kind from any other; and in order to secure the principal object of the club, the members generally enter into a written contract in the form of rules."

In this passage the nature and objects of clubs are defined by the greatest living authority, and from the same authority we learn the