natural species, for it implies that the lower forms produce the higher ones; still less can it be applied satisfactorily to the ascent of man. In order that any thing or creature may be formed in matter there must be somewhere a type or pattern which the actual existing thing copies and expresses. No artist could produce a picture by merely putting together paints, canvas and brushes; he must first have in his mind the idea or pattern which he desires to express. The maker of a table must first have in his mind a subjective idea of what a table should be; this is individualised into a mental image of a particular table and becomes in time the actual table formed by his hands. The usual explanations of the unfoldment of species-natural selection, heredity and environment-are not sufficient to explain the phenomena of Nature. The conditions to which two individual sparrows are subjected are never precisely similar, and if there were no underlying forms and ideas to which all sparrows are moulded there would be no guarantee of continuity. Natural selection and the rest are efficient causes; if they are regarded as being solely responsible no account is taken of a formal cause. That which is generally termed evolution is, therefore, the progressive unfoldment on the plane of the objective of the ideas and types which subsist on the plane of the subjective. When this process is looked at from below only results are visible; hence a true conclusion as to its nature cannot be arrived at.

This same unfoldment is going on in man, but with a difference. Animals cannot control their evolution; they cannot hasten or retard it; they must obey their instincts and conform to the great law of which they are a part. But man has the power consciously to retard or accelerate the process of his unfoldment, to hasten the expression of the ideas, ideals and types which are latent within him, or to turn his back to them and live merely in his sense nature. Thus to reason from the progressive evolution of more highly developed types of animals to a corresponding inevitable progress on the part of humanity would be false, since the principle of free-will might at any time counteract or prevent this evolution. In a time like the present, when ideas of inevitable and mechanical progress are prevalent, this point is especially worth insisting upon. Systems of thought which make the ultimate perfection of man rest on purely evolutionary processes outside his own control definitely hold back the human race, for they make individual effort useless and imply that man is nothing more than the helpless plaything of forces exterior to himself.

Man's progress is in his own hands. He has latent within him the principles of all powers and perfections, but for these to be made actual necessitates a conscious effort on his part. The whole history of the race proves this. The progress of mankind is the VOL. XCVII-No. 575

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progress of individuals, of the geniuses in religion, philosophy, science and art, who have won by their own efforts that consciousness of truth which has made the attainment of it more easy for all their fellows. It is by these great ones that mankind is uplifted and led nearer to its goal, not by any mechanical process of evolution. Having themselves awakened, having, as Plato says, enkindled within them the light of the Divine ideas, they help to enkindle that light in others, and by so doing lift up the whole world towards its ultimate perfection. This light is in all men, but not until they awake and turn from dreams and playthings can it become active and shine out in their lives. On the one hand there is the mass of mankind living a more or less animal life, concerned with looking after their personal comfort, with supporting themselves and adding to their possessions, or with increasing their reputation; on the other there are the great geniuses, who, having beheld the beauties of the ideal world which is the real, care no more for anything except to make the actual world its true reflection.

Since, therefore, progress is the expression by individuals and by the race of the ideas or ideals already latent within, we are now better able to judge how far the present epoch, chaotic enough in its outward appearance at the moment, seems likely to lead to a better state of things. The ideals and perfections towards which mankind is moving are many, but they may be grouped under three main heads: those of the Good, the True and the Beautiful. Each human being pursues perpetually these three ideals, whether he is conscious of the fact or not. We all seek good, our own good at any rate, though that good may not be the good of others. So likewise with truth and beauty. No man seeks that which to him is false or ugly. So long as men seek partitive goodness, truth and beauty, there will be strife, division and suffering; but when at length they set their eyes upon the ideal itself and realise that it is within their power to reach it, not in some far-distant time, in some remote heaven, but here upon earth and in ordinary human life, then will all these unrealities vanish.

If all progress is the unfoldment of some perfection already latent within man, this process entails a progressive realisation of the nature of this perfection.

This is a kind of awakening, a gradual lifting up of the object of pursuit from the material to the mental, from the mental to the spiritual, plane. The first effect of such an awakening is to produce chaos: the good which is at first pursued is not the good itself, but a partitive and personal good. And so the chaos of the world of to-day is not a cause for pessimism, but for rejoicing, for it is an infallible sign that the great awakening has begun. The throes of birth are upon the world, for the old order is changing.

The darkness which is around us is the darkness of the very early morning, and from it will be born a day more beautiful than any that has yet been.

It is idle for the pessimist to moan of the wrath to come: Goodness, Truth and Beauty must inevitably prevail, for they are the foundations upon which both man and the universe are built. Some time and somewhere that ideal perfection of manhood which has existed in the world of the real from all eternity will blossom out in man. And it rests with himself whether the time be a long or short one.

Even now there are many signs that a new age is beginning. There is abroad a spirit of questioning, of dissatisfaction with established systems and institutions, of determination to arrive at truth. The very existence of all kinds of new sects and teachings, almost all purporting to have a panacea for every ill, is but another evidence of this dissatisfaction with things as they are. Man is indeed awakening, and though the first hundred years or so may have the appearance of a reversion to savagery, this period of chaos is but the necessary breaking down which must precede any new structure. Once mankind in general begins to be puzzled about the causes of existence, to inquire into the purpose of life and the best means of fulfilling that purpose, the era of progress will have begun, for men will find the answer written large upon the face of the universe; they will behold it in the writings and in the lives of the great ones of the past. The light of truth has always been in the world, and those who have truly sought have found it there since the beginning of time. The first essential of progress is knowledge, for in order to lift himself up to his ideal man must know something of his own true nature and the nature of the universe and of God. In order to gain knowledge, man must desire truth, and when humanity in general is filled with this desire, truth will be made manifest upon earth, for it is written, 'Ask, and it shall be given unto you.'

G. H. BONNER.

A PLEA FOR THE INDIAN MUSLIM

We live in an age which prides itself upon its consideration for minority communities. The question of minorities is a burning one in India, where the administrator is confronted with a collection of heterogeneous races and creeds. Among these latter, Hinduism predominates. The population of the British provinces was 247 millions at the last Census. (The total population, including that of Indian States, was found to be 319 millions.) Out of these 247 millions, 163 millions are Hindus and nearly 60 millions are Muslims, while Buddhists, Sikhs, Parsis and others make up the remainder. Thus Hindus largely predominate, though the fact must not be overlooked that their numbers are swelled by the inclusion of a certain number of untouchables and animists.

It is common to find Hindus and Muslims living peaceably side by side in the same village. But there is a deep-seated antagonism between the votaries of these two religions. The antagonism is often, at least to appearances, dormant. But it is ever there, smouldering and ready to break forth, when fanned by provocation, into red flames of riot and massacre. It is bred in the foundations of the two faiths. The rigidity of Islam views with horror the varied forms and versatility of Hinduism; its monotheism recoils from a wide Pantheon where the worshipper may select the object of his adoration; its Puritanic strain condemns the use of images, and of Tantric ceremonies; its congregational services are far removed from the more personal exercises of the Hindu and dictate a totally different style of religious architecture. The Muslim classes himself with the Christian as a child of the Book.' The Hindu ranges through nature, idealises the sensuous form, and weaves the strands of the material into a glowing fabric on the loom of imagination. His reverence for the cow is revolted by the sacrifices which characterise certain Muhammadan festivals. Even in death the faiths are divided. I have seen a Muslim grow sick with loathing at a distant sight of the funeral pyres on the Benares ghats. The antagonism is bred in history also. There are pride and fear on both sides; and pride and fear bring their inevitable conse

quences. The Muslim looks back upon the conquest of Delhi by Muhammad Ghori, the domination exercised through three centuries by the so-called Pathan dynasties, and above all, the glories and the organising gifts of the Great Moghuls. The Hindu conjures up the vision of an ancient India, peacefully swayed by kings akin to gods, immune from famine and disease, unscourged by the foreign aggressor. He ponders on the early epics or on the ballads of the Rajputs with their tale of valour and tragedy. He erects Shivaji into a national hero and remembers the kingdoms which arose on the ruins of the Moghul Empire. The Muslim fears the preponderating influence and numbers of the Hindus and foresees the possible depression of his own community. The Hindu views with misgiving the continuance in his own land of the remnants of a conquering race and of a creed which, if no longer girt with the sword of intolerance, is alien to his own beliefs and claims too many votaries to be overlooked. There are yet other grounds of antagonism. A Government largely composed of foreigners, unbiassed towards either cause, attempts to compose the differences and has not faltered in its task of welding the races of India into a single whole. The opponents of that Government call upon Hindu and Muslim to sink their differences and embrace before moving together upon the common foe. But success has not yet crowned the efforts on either side. The Moplah war and the riots at Multan are among the more recent of the deplorable incidents which show how wide is the breach.

The element of fear is more pronounced upon the Muhammadan side. For the weakness of the Muslim community, as contrasted with the Hindu, is not merely numerical; the community is handicapped in other respects also. The Government has attempted, not without searching of its own heart and opposition from certain quarters, to safeguard the position of the Muslim community. It is easy to denounce such safeguards. A common objection is that differentiation tends to keep alive religious animosity and constitutes a policy of divide et impera. This is an argument which will appeal neither to the Muslim nor to the impartial administrator who has dealt at first hand with these difficulties. There are other arguments—mutually destructive perhaps, but suitable for use on different occasions and in varying contexts. It may be said that, if the importance of the minority is to be calculated by the counting of noses, the minority is large enough to take care of itself; or that if brains and not noses are to form the criterion, then its influence is not deserving of special consideration. It may be argued that the community is particularly loyal to the British connection, and that accordingly the conferment of privileges is merely an unfair device for strengthening the hands of Government; or that the Muslim owes allegiance