the long run human life becomes broader than it was, gentler than it was, finer and deeper. On the whole-and nowadays almost steadily-things get better. There is a secular amelioration of life, and it is brought about by Good Will working through the efforts of men."

(I hasten to remind the reader that this was written about ten years ago!)

"Good Will" it seems is the motive; how convenient uppercase type is in matters of this kind! Mr. Wells does not tell us whence and how it came into the world nor of what order is this motive-it is his own word-which he has discerned among the motives of poor human nature wandering an exile in the deserts without water. "However arising," he says of it; perhaps these words betray, on his part, a latent suspicion that its origin may not be the same as that of "lust, hunger, avarice, vanity and more or less intelligent fear." There it is, however, and he knows it by its effects in the shape of "a secular amelioration." Ishmael carries with him, in the wilderness, the means of his redemption.

It would be too much to expect of Mr. Wells that he should be ready to recognize and to admit the supernatural in the affairs of men. The heavy inheritance of scientific and naturalistic superstition bequeathed from the generation of the seventies to the modern Anglo-Saxon mind, has been far too much of a burden for that organ's very moderate powers in the domain of metaphysical considerations. Therefore, it need not be accounted matter of great shame to Mr. Wells, that seeing Christianity at work in the hearts of men he called it "Good Will." The important thing is that he did see something which seemed to him to hold out the hope he sought. That he misapprehended and miscalled it is of no consequence for our purposes. He saw-or thought he saw—in the world a force which ran counter to the passions and the desires of human nature, and that in this force lay the hopes of the world for social justice. Again he is in agreement with the Church. Not merely does she admit that Socialism is practicable if a sufficient motive be present; she shows the world Socialism in operation under the influence of that motive, and has shown it for fully fifteen hundred years-in her religious orders. All that is needed to make Socialism work the world over is a motive strong enough to induce a man willingly to surrender his possessions and his will. There is nothing more complex in it than that. With divine grace 'Ibid., pp. 4, 5.

completely victorious in the hearts of men, social justice would inevitably follow.

The great value of Mr. Wells' book is consequently apparent, for it constitutes a most important piece of independent testimony to the absolute soundness of the Catholic Church's teaching on the whole subject. Wells has accurately recorded the phenomena, and has accurately interpreted their relations. All that is necessary is to give the phenomena their right names, and our case is proven for us by a witness not of our fold. But it is not Socialism that is our present business, and it is not because Mr. Wells' book hammers another nail in the coffin of an already mouldering cadaver, that I have devoted so much space to its consideration. Socialism of the orthodox type is dead enough, but there is more concerned in Mr. Wells' study of the facts than Socialism. There is the question of democracy. I have already said that democracy is the soul of Socialism, and so it surely is, for it is as a revolt against and a remedy for the inequalities in the world that Socialism arose. Democracy in politics came first, and Socialism is only an extension of democracy into economics. It is noteworthy that in these days when it has finally become apparent that Socialism is an iridescent dream, the notion of "industrial democracy" is making so much headway in radical circles of economic thought.

If we analyze the reason why Mr. Wells found Socialism impracticable in the present state of human nature, we find that it lies in the unwillingness of men to accept the sacrifices and accommodations necessary to make the Socialist scheme work. Voluntary coöperation is the essence of Socialism—and it is also the essence of democracy. The sacrifices and accommodations imposed by Socialism are more numerous and more varied-they are also more intimate than those imposed by democracy; nevertheless, democracy demands much. In its simplest political form it requires sacrifice of the will; if it spreads into industry it will demand sacrifice, at least partially of possessions. In any form it will exact a high degree of mutual confidence and mutual forbearance from those who live under it as a principle of organization. All these things are indispensable to its success and its continuance as a form of human society. Can democracy exist continuously upon the earth, can it extend itself so as to embrace all civilized society, at least in a political sense; can it, in short, establish itself as the one true principle of human dealings in the activities of life and justify itself by its deeds with human nature as Mr. Wells finds human nature

to be in these days? Or is his "Good Will "-is Christianity as a living force in the hearts of men-necessary to make it work?

It is easier to pose the question than it is to answer it, and I have no intention of doing more than pose it as fairly as I can, suggesting one or two lines of thought that may lead toward an

answer.

Democracy is an axiom in modern thought. The essential equality of men under the law is no more firmly held as truth than is the essential equality of men in the making and unmaking of the law. And yet what warrant have we for the axiom? In what does this equality of man reside? We know that it does not reside in his powers, either mental or physical; science on this point is clear, and the Mendelian discoveries have excluded the Marxian concept of equalization by environment from further serious consideration by intelligent men. Inequality is the fact in human society however regarded. Nevertheless, there is the doctrine of the "Rights of Man" staring us in the face. Can these "rights be defended on grounds wholly in the natural order? Can "science" support them? Can they be deduced from the nature of man as Wells sees man? I do not see how they can be so defended, so supported or so deduced. But I do see how they can be securely founded in the supernatural order, and how they follow irresistibly upon the Christian teaching. I do see how democracy as a political theory grows naturally enough out of Christianity, wherein, as Chesterton says, men are united in a democracy of eternal danger, or words like it. In the Christian system the inequalities are in the things that do not matter; the equalities are in the essentials. A common humanity as a basis of equality in human activities is possible only on the ground of the extraordinary destiny of men, and in view of that as an end. Prescinding from that, it is hard to see any reason for supposing that any way can be found in the natural order for democratically composing the differences that exist in that order.

The admitted" inefficiency" of democratic societies, as contrasted with societies oligarchically or monarchically organized, is due more than anything else to the fact that democratic governments are shaped in the main on a system of checks and counterchecks, which are eloquent testimony to the lack of confidence reposed by men in each other. This system generates inertia instead of initiative. Of course no one is willing to purchase "efficiency" at the cost of liberty; that is not the point. The point is that democ

racy based on mutual distrust functions badly, that whatever functions badly holds its existence upon uncertain tenure, and that democracy, if it is to establish itself as an inheritor of the earth must justify itself by its works. It is customary to profess a blind faith in the future of democracy. This faith is often expressed in the saying that "the cure for inefficient democracy is more democracy." This may be true, but there is assuredly no reason in the natural order for assuming it as an axiom. Moreover, all that can be said on this score applies with force tenfold to "industrial democracy," for in industry the penalty of "inefficiency" is swift and inexorable, whereas in politics it may be long delayed. Besides, even if it be accepted that a "common humanity" in the natural order is foundation enough for political democracy, the inference from the political order to the economic order is wholly invalid.

Let it be remembered that I am not questioning the desirability of democracy as a principle of social organization, but only its practicability as a continuing principle with human nature as it is. What I am suggesting is that the obstacle which Mr. Wells found to lie in the path of the Socialist principle may also block the way of democracy, unless the redeeming principle discerned by Mr. Wells, and by him labeled "Good Will," shall grow and extend itself in men's hearts. Translating this into our language, and stating it in the fewest possible words, my thought is that if democracy is to live upon the earth and become the soul of human society, it is difficult now to see any force working to that end in human affairs other than Christianity. That seems to be the only force strong enough to dominate the "lust, hunger, avarice, vanity and more or less intelligent fear" of men, and subject them to such a discipline of mutual tolerance, mutual trust, and mutual affection as will make possible the high degree of coöperation that democracy demands for the successful performance of its functions amid the intimate intricacies of modern life.

THE TRADITIONAL IDEA OF GOD AND ITS MODERN

SUBSTITUTES.

BY EDMUND T. SHANAHAN, S.T.D.

HE philosophical atmosphere underwent a decided change towards the middle of the seventeenth century. Descartes introduced a method of philosophizing which, whatever else may be argued in its favor, had the fatal defect of divorcing speculation from history. The question of God's knowableness had up to that time been studied as an historical problem, with such means as lay to hand. But this ceased with the advent of the new method. Facile proofs, short intuitive ways of establishing God's existence and nature won favor with philosophers, and the result was an excessive form of intellectualism, an uncontrolled manner of speculating, which went far beyond the traditional Christian position, occupying a ground that could not successfully be defended later against attack. Intuitionists, then as since, failed to realize that all our intuitions have a history, and that their so-called flashes are the result of long previous preparation and unconsciously acquired knowledge, not the unbidden bolts from the blue they are commonly supposed to be. A Christian thinking is apt to mistake an analysis of his own special consciousness for an insight into the mind of the race at large, and this was the fallacy into which Descartes tumbled headlong, because he was professedly an unhistorical thinker who did not look before he leaped.

The French mathematician contended that a clear idea of the Infinite exists in all minds, and that this particular idea is the historical source of religion, its connatural object and intellectual base. He identified the cause of religion with the establishment of this particular overclaim, which was a wrong and compromising thing to do, the idea of the Infinite being so high and hard a notion to conceive clearly, in the Cartesian sense of the latter much-abused term, that historically it came late, and psychologically it could not have come early, into the minds of men. It was a preposterous thesis-in the native meaning of this adjective-which Descartes proposed; a hysteron proteron, verily. He had made the last first, and offered a shining mark for reprisal when Kant undertook to show what the human mind, in its own native right, is capable of