on Mr. Judge were exactly what Colonel Olcott called them, a violation of the most vital spirit of the Theosophical Society. They were so, in two ways. They were a violation of the spirit of charity, of tolerance, of brotherly love, of that kindly affection which seeks virtues and not deficiencies, which looks for faults at home, and not in others, which seeks not its own, and thinks no evil. They were also a violation of the vital spirit of the Theosophical Society, since that Society is a body of students, of seekers after truth, on perfectly equal terms; a body of students, each of whom has an entire right to hold any belief or unbelief that commends itself to him, and to express that belief or unbelief; as indeed must be the case in all free search after truth.

men.

And this brings me to the closing portion of my subject: the Theosophical Society and its work in the world. For I have hitherto spoken of something larger and more inclusive: the Theosophical MoveMme. Blavatsky always spoke of the Theosophical Movement as being, as it were, a wave of force, set in motion by Masters, the Elder Brothers of humanity, and destined to bring spiritual life to the hearts of The Theosophical Movement has many expressions. Of these, the Theosophical Society is one. If I were asked what the Theosophical Society is, I should be inclined to say that, for me, it stands for a state of mind, or rather an attitude of the heart. That attitude is essentially this: To put my own interest as secondary and the interest of my friend as primary; to be more willing to hear than to speak; to endeavor always to see the truth in my neighbor's heart, rather than to seek to impose my own view of truth. Instead of antagonism, the Theosophical Society should bring unity of heart. When in action we make the interests of others primary, and keep our own interests in the second place, we bring unity. We must by no means fall into the error of thinking that this will mean giving way to our neighbor, letting him get the better of us, yielding to him in a servile way. That could never be for his interest, and, in doing this we should by no means be putting his interest first. Cowardice is one thing. Devotion to the interests of another is a quite different thing, and one calling for high courage as well as self-sacrifice. Gently to hear, kindly to judge: this is the principle for which the Theosophical Society stands; genuine toleration, an entire willingness to hear the other side; a readiness to accept new truth. This attitude in action is well described in the primary object of the Theosophical Society:

"To form the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity, without distinction of race, creed, caste, color or sex."

One may ask, is not this exactly what the Churches are doing? Happily, yes; and to an ever increasing degree. Among many branches of the more liberal Churches, the spirit of toleration and reconciliation has already gone far, and will, let us hope, go much farther. Yet there

are still many directions in which mediation is needed. For example, do the older branches of the Church, the Eastern and Western, freely admit each other's equality, each other's possession of spiritual truth? Or do the Christian Churches, as a whole, approach the non-Christian religions in a brotherly and kindly spirit, not claiming any superiority, not demanding any paramount position, not insisting on deep differences, but seeking rather the truths which are common to all? Again, we have much liberty and light, on the one hand, among the followers of science; and on the other, within the Churches. But do the Churches render full justice to the votaries of science? Do these see what are the ideals, the hopes, the aspirations of the Churches? Here is still great need for mediation, for reconciliation.

And whence can come mediation and reconciliation, but through mutual understanding? And how can mutual understanding come about, except through gentle listening, a willingness to hear the other side, a wish to learn and enter into the other's truth, rather than to impose our own. This, if I am right, is the Theosophical method, the method for which the Theosophical Society exists.

Tolerance, brotherly love, conciliation, spiritual unity: such are the ideals of the Theosophical Society. For those who hold these ideals, great horizons open, wide vistas of work and hope spread before them. These vistas, this work, this hope, are not the mere private concern of our members. They are common and universal. And in closing, I cannot do better than advise all whose concern these things are, to attend to them.

CHARLES JOHNSTON.

III.

The Mathematician: In the discussion following Mr. F-'s talk at our last meeting, the question arose as to the propriety of attributing any moral element to nature. Man finds within his own heart certain ethical standards and moral ideals. Are these only the expression in him of a moral law acting throughout all the universe? Or does their presence in man serve to differentiate him from the rest of nature, and set him, as a moral being, in opposition to natural law and natural forces, to play a lone hand for his own ideals?

Each of these views found its advocates; as did many intermediate shades of opinion. Of these latter, one of the most interesting and suggestive was put forward by Professor D-. He stated that, as a biologist, he was forced to view nature as cruel and wasteful and that he could see no conformity to moral ideals in its processes. Yet while thus advocating the essential immorality of natural conditions he asserted that our moral ideals were themselves but the evolutionary derivatives of biological principles. As the tenor of the discussion did not then admit of the elaboration of this latter theory or the attempt to reconcile the two statements (which I confess seem to me inconsistent), I have asked him to start our discussion this evening by giving us the logical development of his doctrine, and to trace for us the origin and evolution. of our ethical concepts from the biological standpoint.

The Zoologist: I think Professor A- is putting a rather doubtful construction upon one part of what I said and that the antithesis he mentions does not really exist in my view. It will, however, probably be more fruitful not to attempt a retrospective explanation of what I did or did not say, but to speak afresh directly to the subject given me. This subject may be stated as the "Natural History of Ethics;" i. e., the nature of human ideas of right and wrong as clarified by the evolutionary development of these ideas.

Really there are two subjects or subdivisions of the whole problem. The first is the historical justification of human standards. The second. is the relation of "natural" or "biological" ethics to the other elements that enter into the modern complex-religion. Here I would have to trespass upon the territory of the anthropologists, of Professor L and others.

The Mathematician: I do not think that any of us need fear trespassing upon the ground of others. Indeed our points of view are so

different that trespass is almost impossible, however much we may talk upon the same theme. So I trust you will not let this restrict your presentation.

The Zoologist: Thank you, but I may find I have quite enough to do to develop my first heading.

A living thing, as long as it remains, or exists as a living thing, must maintain certain definite relations to the environment. It is "conditioned" very definitely by external nature. For example let us consider the Amoeba: a tiny little mass of living matter, consisting of but a single cell and nearly as primitive as any living thing can be. Yet it must, to exist, provide for the introduction into itself of (a) matter, for the repair of its substance; and (b) energy, with the matter, to be converted into its "vital" energy. That is to say, it must, if it is to exist, look after its immediate individual welfare, be egoistic. This is the first and great commandment of Nature, by which the most primitive as well as the highest forms of life are conditioned: "preserve thyself."

A second commandment of Nature is: "perpetuate thyself." Whatever may be the cause of reproduction (and Biology offers some very definite statements on this subject), the conditions are such that an individual of a species must make more like itself.

Nature does not tolerate any forms that ignore their "duty" to the species-individualism is not permitted to reach its logical extreme. And often the obedience to Nature's second mandate runs directly counter to individual interests. Nevertheless there are now no species that place individual before racial welfare. For if such there were at any time, these have died as species. Nature does not approve of "race-suicide."

Thus at the very beginnings of life, as in its most complex forms, we see these two laws ruthlessly enforced-"preserve thyself" and "preserve thy kind." The violation of either entails the blotting out of the form that disobeys. But already we see evidence of the wider end dominating the narrower, the preservation of the race taking precedence over the preservation of the individual.

When, now, we pass to such an organism as the Hydra, the small fresh-water polyp, a relative of the jelly-fish and coral, we find, not one cell, but a large number of these little organic units, arranged in two layers; an outer layer, lined by an inner one. Here we have a new cell environment and in consequence a new type of "conditioned" existence. Each cell must maintain itself. But there is something more that the cells must do. They must work not only for themselves but for their fellows, and their fellows in turn must work for them.

The outer cells provide for the relating of the whole mass of cells to the environment. In return for this they are relieved of the feeding functions, as they receive supplies from the inner layer, that feeds not only for itself but also for the outer protective layer. Thus we have a

primitive community, composed, so to speak, of two groups or castes, a soldier class and an agricultural class, while of course there are those cell units that have as their special task the reproduction or perpetuation of the whole colony.

Thus no cell is entirely sufficient unto itself. It must, it is true, carry on the same essential vital activities as a solitary amoeba. But now, it also owes a duty to the other members of its colony, who, in turn, are specialized for other tasks and owe duties to it. Interdependence of differentiated units replaces the independent egoism of solitary forms. Altruism is a direct result of association and differentiation.

From this brief sketch two things should be clear: First, how an individuality of an higher order is established by the union and specialization of first order individuals. And, second, what "duties" of mutual support and co-operation are imposed upon the primary units by such. social relations. Let us now extend our view to higher groups, and consider such communities as are formed by wolves, or ants, bees, wasps, and the like.

Here, as in the case of the cells in the Polyp, we see the same mutual dependence or interdependence of units, the same subordination of the individual to the common good in which all must share. A pack of wolves will hunt as a unit, and pull down together what one would be powerless to overcome. The welfare of each depends upon the welfare of the whole. No matter how well fed and strong a single wolf may be, if his pack is feeble and diminished he is himself in danger. It pays to share the kill; and that pack whose members put aside their personal quarrels on the chase will survive in competition with those who do not. To care for one's fellow, to love one's neighbor as oneself, is a commandment founded upon biological efficiency. It does not contradict, but both supplements and is necessary to, the other commandment of self preser

vation.

Yet there are times when these two commandments conflict, when the preservation of the community demands the sacrifice of the individual. Here the lower orders of Nature present us with most striking instances of altruism and self-sacrifice. Consider, for example, the life of the royal bee. You all know how the life of the hive centers around its queen,— who lays all the eggs, and upon whom thus rests the perpetuation of the entire colony. There cannot be two queens in a single hive-if there are, civil war results and one or the other is killed. Yet "princess" bees must be raised, both to guard against the hive being left through accident without a queen, and also to lead the swarms and to furnish queens to the new hives. Here then would be a danger of internal dissention and strife were it not that the princess bees provide for their own death. The royal larvæ construct only imperfect cocoons leaving open a space where they may be stung to death if unneeded. In a way it is suicide.