ethical questions. General utility, he contends, authorizes the subjection of individual spontaneity to external control only in respect to those actions of each which concern the interests of other people (p. 25). He holds that this freedom is yet unattained (1858). The constraint he does not attribute so much to governmental pressure as to public opinion.

He urges that all thought should be submitted to discussion, because "the beliefs which we have most warrant for, have no safeguard to rest on, but a standing invitation to the whole world to prove them unfounded" (pp. 42 f.). Leaving the lists open he regards as the only way of gaining infallibility. The failure of good men in the past to attain infallibility must decrease our assurance as to our own beliefs. Nor is there a certainty that truth will prevail. "It is," he says, "a piece of idle sentimentality that truth, merely as truth, has any inherent power denied to error, of prevailing against the dungeon and the stake” (p. 55). All that we know is that it will be rediscovered in time. And "it is not the minds of heretics that are deteriorated most by the ban placed on all inquiry which does not end in the orthodox conclusions. The greatest harm is done to those who are not heretics, and whose whole mental development is cramped, and their reason cowed, by the fear of heresy" (p. 62). A true opinion, held simply as a prejudice and without proof, he brands as but one superstition more which accidentally clings to the words that enunciate a truth. More, "he who knows only his side of the case knows little of that" (p. 68). Still further:

All ethical doctrines and religious creeds are full of meaning and vitality to those who originate them, and to the direct disciples of the originators. Their meaning continues to be felt in undiminished strength, and is perhaps brought out into even fuller conscientiousness, so long as the struggle lasts to give the doctrine or creed ascendency over other creeds (p. 73). Mill holds popular opinions to be unreliable, for, while they may contain truth, they are but seldom, if ever, the whole truth. He mentions that in politics "it is almost a common-place, that a party of order or stability, and a party of reform or progress, are both necessary elements of a healthy state of a political life.” In his chapter on "Individuality" as one of the elements of well-being he advances the following considerations :

In proportion to the development of his individuality, each person becomes more valuable to himself, and is therefore capable of being more valuable to others. . . . . Whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called. . . . . There is always need of persons, not only to discover new truths but also to commence new practises, and set the example of more enlightened conduct. . . . . Genius can only breathe in an atmosphere of freedom.

As to the limits of society's authority over the individual he says:

To individuality should belong the part of life in which it is chiefly the individual that is interested; to society the part that chiefly interests society. . . . Encroachment on their rights; infliction on them of any loss or damage not justified by his own rights; falsehoods or duplicity in dealing with them; unfair or ungenerous use of advantages over them; even selfish abstinence from defending them against injury- these are fit objects of moral reprobation, and, in grave cases, of moral retribution and punishment.

In respect to that which lies beyond the realm of social concern he asserted finally that "the strongest of all arguments against the interference of the public with purely personal conduct, is that when it does interfere, the odds are that it interferes wrongly and in the wrong place."

As a literary work this essay is remarkable. It is profound and discriminating, and withal exceedingly clear. It is truly a masterpiece. In seeking a line of argument that would appeal to the largest number, the author took no cognizance of the more restricted hypotheses which had been placed as foundations of the former theories. Broader than existing Christianity, he has made his premises as universal as the needs of men. has sought the fullest right of private judgment. motive than the welfare of men inspired him.

Hence he No meaner

CONCLUSION.

HITHERTO our task has been to set forth the facts which have been most important in this English contest for the right of private judgment. The polemical literature of the subject has furnished the most trustworthy information. The contest was by no means wholly a literary one. For definite facts, however, we are driven to the treatises, together with public addresses which have gotten into print. We may assume with somewhat of confidence that the preachers of a denomination advocated from the pulpit what the denomination expressed in its confessions. Further, we may safely hold that the vigor of a denomination's advocacy was commensurate with the strength of its confessional statements, and the frequency and boldness of personal literary efforts of its members. Yet it is not for the historian to assume. The indisputable evidence alone can rightly guide us in our deductions and generalizations. It becomes our task here to reconsider the courses of thought already traced and briefly summarize them, locating as accurately as possible the different factors. Our examination will be in respect to ideals, motives, and comparative effectiveness. It is obvious that we must be satisfied with the merest approximation. Doubtless many elements entered the contest of which we have no suggestion, at least no complete apprehension. Our standard for judgment must necessarily be the highest and clearest thought of the present day. An attempt has been made to outline this in the "Introduction."

From the very Reformation period the English Anabaptists rejected every human authority over the conscience. They were indeed the radicals of the Reformation. By the authorities they were held to be anarchists. And according to English laws they were such. The claims of the national ecclesiastical laws they denied entirely. To the courts of the sixteenth century this was as anarchistic as to repudiate civil law. In fact,

the terms “civil” and “ecclesiastical" were not yet generally used with discrimination. By churchmen this refusal to admit the magistrate's ecclesiastical function was regarded worse than a refusal to recognize his civil function. Murder was a crime against the body; heresy was a crime against the soul. Anabaptists were not only among the heretics of the day, and therefore propagators of a heresy, but they held that difference of opinion was right and should be allowed. What others called blasphemous they called Christian. They firmly opposed, not only what was then termed orthodoxy, but also every unprogressive orthodoxy. They admitted the capacity of the human mind to expand, and the possibility of obtaining clearer perceptions of divine truth. This was destined to herald the revolution of political and ecclesiastical thought among AngloSaxons, and even the abolishment of its very axioms. Differing fundamentally from the prevailing ideas, the foreign conception conquered, not because it was alien, but because it was Christian.

This assertion of individualism was too strongly emphasized at first. It led to a neglect of the social and governmental. For a time there was an unwillingness to take oaths or accept a governmental position. The magistrate was never denied his civil function, but an incompatibility was thought to exist between magistracy and Christianity. By the beginning of the seventeenth century this had passed away, and all proper authority was accorded to the national government. Passive submission was ever conceded by these people, in every particular, but by protest they displayed their antagonism to a religious despotism. Though no enormities are accredited to the English Anabaptists, in this early, formative, and somewhat obscure period, they were misunderstood. The sins of certain continental heretics, who were popularly classed as their fellows, were expatiated upon so as to reflect upon them. The violent opposition to them by churchmen is easily accounted for by the contradiction which their principles presented to ecclesiasticism. This led to the unsavory association mentioned. The temporary over-emphasis of individualism, while an occasion for ill-feeling

on the part of the government, was never more undesirable than the similar over-emphasis of the Quakers at a much later date.

They sought an opportunity to hold and propagate their peculiar views, but they denied the same opportunity to none. They even urged that all Protestants be free in the exercise of their faith. Further still, the hated Papists were also included in this list. And to the utter astonishment of the community at large, they boldly declared that Jews and Turks and infidels had the same rights. The political ruler was stripped of his authority over the conscience. This high ideal, once accepted by the English Anabaptists, was retained. The Baptists, their lineal descendants, turned not to the right hand nor the left, but followed in the footsteps of their progenitors. Though but few of them were learned or gifted, they made a very respectable showing in the production of favorable sentiment. Never a numerous people, they were for many decades prominent and isolated in their advocacy of this tenet. Their isolation was then relieved by the rise of partial sympathizers and helpers. For at least two and one-half centuries these people were under the ban of the religious public of England. They were regarded as heretics, blasphemers, and visionaries. Their views were felt to be destructive to national government and ecclesiastical order. Their conduct gained them a reputation for inoffensiveness and sobriety. In time they became ranked with the safer nonconformists. Their greatest offense was that they were leaders of thought in the realm of the governmental. They dared to differ

from others in that they applied Christian teaching to civil life. The greatness of the crime for which they were condemned was in proportion to their distance in advance of their contemporaries.

The ideal or ideals of the Independents cannot be expressed so easily or so accurately. From a position that was as intolerant as their scheme of church democracy would allow, they advanced step by step, until they, too, embraced the heathen in their charity. This change of doctrine in the case of the Independents, as of Episcopalians and Presbyterians, was not by evolution, but by attrition. It did not proceed from their