writings were regarded in his day with, horror, and unsparingly, if not universally, condemned. He was looked upon as an advocate of lawlessness, as the uprooter of the foundations of society; and his wife—that remarkable woman, Mary Wollstonecroft—holding, among other peculiar views, that marriage was a pernicious institution, was considered as an emblem of all that was unwomanly. The “Political Justice” appeared in 1793, and its author died in 1836—not so very long ago. But what a change since then has taken place! What is thought of Godwin's writings now? No one condemns their socialistic tendencies, or regards them with horror, or deems them dangerous. On the contrary, his views and opinions, with others of a far more advanced kind, are generally discussed in books, magazines, pamphlets, newspapers—are advocated and insisted on by many leading thinkers of the present day, and are talked over with more or less intelligence among the masses in their political and social gatherings. The policy of the present day is to adopt, it would seem, the measures framed by the Ministry of progress in France in 1848. Those measures were as follow: To procure labour for all who are out of employment (and that the French Government bound itself to do by a solemn decree); to transform the Bank of France into a State bank; to control by the State all railways, insurance companies, and savings-banks; to erect public workshops and general stores; to found agricultural societies or companies on co-operative principles, and such - like. We copy very closely these proposals, but no one regards them now as revolutionary. Those that were adopted by the French in 1848 proved in practice unworkable, and were abandoned.

But the world of to-day, not gaining experience or profiting by the lessons of history, takes them up again, and hopes to be more successful than Lamartine's Ministry. These proposals, and the principles underlying them, are viewed more favourably every year, and are steadily advancing, it would appear, in public estimation. Men of note are stirring in the cause: Kingsley, Maurice, and many others, now dead, devoted their talents and influence to its advancement. Ruskin, who values himself upon being a communist of the old school, taking his place among those who regard your property as theirs and theirs as your own, comes to the front in the same cause. He is esteemed and honoured as a great teacher, and well sustains his reputation by his admirable writings. William Morris, poet of the “Earthly Paradise” and other works of acknowledged merit, follows close upon Ruskin's footsteps. He distributes leaflets among the masses containing the principles he advocates, and the plans he has in view for ameliorating the condition of workmen, the better distribution of property,

and the reorganization of society in general. It is the socialism of this poet that I propose to place before you now.

In “Socialism: its Growth and Outcome,” by William Morris and E. Belfort Bax, the subject is dealt with, they tell us, from the historical point of view, a continuous though slight sketch being given of its development in history. The plan of the work also deals with the aspirations of socialists towards the society of the future. As it is further stated that each sentence has been carefully considered by both authors in common, I shall deal with their statement of the life of the future as if it had been penned solely by Mr. Morris. His views appear under the title “Socialism Triumphant,” and I propose to give an outline of his scheme, though by no means either a full or complete one.

As barbarism gave place to civilisation, so Mr. Morris believes there will be a transformation of modern civilisation into socialism—a socialism which would deal primarily with the administration of things and only indirectly with the government of persons. Civil law, based on private property, would cease to exist; and criminal law would tend to become obsolete. As to the machinery by means of which the administration of things would be carried on, the federal principle would, he thinks, assert itself, developing into a complete automatic system, the work of the higher circles being performed by delegates.

The religion of socialism will be but the ordinary ethics carried into a higher atmosphere, and will only differ from them in degree of conscious responsibility to one's fellows. Socialistic ethics would be the guide of the daily habit of life; socialistic religion that higher form of conscience which would impel those guided by it to actions on behalf of a future of the race such as no man could command in his ordinary mood.

In life under the socialistic order marriage would not be on the basis of a lifelong business arrangement, but on mutual inclination and affection, an association terminable at the will of either party; and he says (I give the sentence in his own words), “It is easy to see how great the gain would be to morality and sentiment in this change.” Property in children would cease, for they would have all the advantages of citizenship, and would be cared for and by the citizens.

The occupations of mankind would be accompanied by pleasure, as every successful exercise of energy should be Commercialism kills all art for the workman. Fourier's assertion that all labour can be made pleasurable under certain conditions is adopted. These conditions are, briefly: Freedom from anxiety as to livelihood; shortness of hours in proportion to the stress of the work; variety of occupation if

the work is of its nature monotonous; opportunity for every one to choose the occupation suitable to his capacity and idiosyncracy; and, lastly, the solace of labour by the introduction of ornament. Architecture, he thinks, will be the act of a society of co-operatives; sculpture and pictures part of a fine building, turning a utilitarian building into a great artistic production. The buildings would probably be so large as to be almost small towns in themselves. As to literature, he thinks the novel, and fiction in general, would die out; but not the great art of poetry, which has changed so little in essentials since the Homeric epics. Science, he asserts, will be free, and not the servant of profit-making industrialism. Music will develope completely new styles of its own no less than the other arts, and music and architecture be the serious occupation of the greatest number of the people. In costumes the extreme difference between the garments of the sexes would probably be done away with. Education would make the best of each individual's powers in all directions, to which each would be led by his innate disposition.

Under these conditions man would lead a life of happiness without imputing it to himself for wickedness, a habit of mind which, under the prevailing ethical ideas, casts a gloom over so many. In all this, Mr. Morris says, he has at least tried to make his belief clear; he is convinced that the kind of life he describes (which he can foresee) means general happiness for all men, free from any substratum of slavery, and he is equally convinced it will be forced upon the world.

This is, very briefly, Mr. Morris's scheme for the rearrangement of social life. He has evidently bestowed much pains upon it, is thoroughly in earnest, and honestly believes it will confer universal happiness upon mankind. We have no reason to doubt the pureness of his motives or the sincerity of his convictions—convictions, be it remembered, of a man of no mean order, earnestly intent upon benefiting his fellow - man. His social scheme therefore claims and deserves our best attention.

On perusing his “Socialism Triumphant” we are led to ask ourselves, Is this real or dream life—a social arrangement fitted to benefit mankind, or a “poet's vain imaginings”? To enable us to answer that question in a satisfactory manner, we must recall what we have read on the subject of socialism and communism, and in doing so there will be found, I think, in all their proposals and theories for the universal happiness of mankind a great similarity. Let me call your attention to one or two prominent features characteristic of all such schemes. A great writer (Hume) has said, “All

plans of government which suppose great reformation in the manners of mankind are plainly imaginative.” This is very applicable, as will be evident if you take the trouble of comparing the social schemes elaborated and put forward, in all earnestness of purpose, by such theorists as Saint-Simon, Fourier, Lassalle, Karl Marx, and other German, French, and English socialists, with those which are admittedly imaginative—such, for instance; as Moore's “Utopia,” Lord Bacon's “New Atlantis,” Campanella's dream founded on a superior moral basis, the flying people of Peter Wilkins, Johnson's “Rasselas in the Happy Valley,” and works of that class. They all alike lead us into a region far removed from the earth, where the visionary preponderates, if it does not, indeed, reign supreme.

Another feature marking very clearly the imaginative character of these schemes is the sudden, not to say miraculous, reformation or transformation of human nature, by assuming that every one is equally good, of equal capacity—mind and body—and by eliminating all selfishness and self-seeking from individuals. And this characteristic is further evidenced by the wondrous facility with which the transformation is effected. Reformers deem it only necessary to say, “Just substitute ‘servant’ for master make poverty wealth and wealth poverty; unloose man from overt and covert be; and straight out of social confusion true order would spring.” Nothing more need be done. The transformation is complete.

Another general feature which it is painful to observe in the majority of these social schemes, from Plato to Mr. William Morris, is the determination on the part of the propounders to degrade women to the utmost. The domestic tie is to be severed, domestic virtue ignored, the love of off-spring destroyed, and women reduced to mere generating-machines. “By two tests,” says De Quincey, “is man raised above the brutes—First, as a being capable of religio (which presupposes him a being endowed with reason); secondly, as a being capable of marriage.” These capacities meet with no recognition at the hands of social reformers. We do our best to ignore the one, and the other is, as a natural consequence, adversely affected. The number of marriages in some communities where religion is little thought of or respected becomes lessened considerably.

The persistent dream of universal happiness is a singular and most interesting phase of human thought. It exercises over most minds a very fascinating influence. Men are forever seeking a region where “all that poets feign of bliss and joy” may be realised in this world. But these dreams are only prismatic-hued pictures of restless imaginations, moved

thereto in nearly all cases by a contemplation of the miseries of life and an ardent desire to ameliorate its adverse conditions. Poets who have given us many such pictures are the first to point out the difference between the ideal and the actual, the real and the visionary. They are not deceived by their own compositions, nor do they wish to deceive their readers. They tell us plainly that the Eldorado sought will never be found on earth, that when men dream of some age in this life in which evil is subdued and right and good become universal they are in error, pursue phantoms, and miss the true meaning and intent of life. Strange to say, Mr. Morris himself comes apparently to some such conclusion. In his opening poem, in the work already referred to, he gives a pathetic account of certain men who set sail to find the earthly paradise, and after many years of wanderings, hardships, and (to some of the number) death, came when very old men to a far land, told their tale, and asked leave to die there. Mr. Morris says, speaking in the character of the wanderer,—

Masters, I have to tell a tale of woe,
A tale of folly and of wasted life,

and this, I take it, will be the sad experience of any who may be induced to adopt the plan of life shadowed forth by Mr. Morris in his “Socialism Triumphant.” But let us assume that it is established on his own basis. What then? Life would stagnate and become listless,—

Quiet as Carmel, where the lilies live.

But is this animal life? In the cells of the animal body there is, physiologists tell us, ceaseless activity. Every orb in the universe, every atom of the earth, tell the same tale. “Nothing there is motionless.” How can man with his infinite desires be content? He is restless ever; and when these reformers seek repose and a dreamy kind of happiness as the highest good attainable in this life they fall, it appears to me, into a fatal error.

If I am correct in the view I have taken of these several schemes—and I am inclined to think that I am—then high ideals are delusive, and of little practical use in real life. They are not adapted to perverse human nature, ill accord with what we know of business realities, and cannot be accepted as precedents without the gravest responsibilities being incurred. Our place is in this world as man, we must remember, and nothing more—

Man who, as man conceiving, hopes and fears,
And craves and deprecates, and loves and loathes,
…. Till death touch his eyes.