truth.  To-day we know that all social progress, all national strength, all national vigour, intellectual as well as physical, depend essentially upon the family, upon the morality of the household, upon the relation of parents to children.  It was this fact which the Greeks and Romans forgot, and lost themselves by forgetting.  It was this fact which the superstitious tyranny of the Middle Ages had to teach the West over again, and after such a fashion that it is not likely ever to become forgotten.  So much for the mental history of the question.  Let us say a word about the physical aspects of it.

No doubt you have read that the result of macerating the body, of depriving oneself of all comfort, and even of nourishing food, is not an increase of intellectual vigour or moral power of any kind.  And in one sense this is true.  The individual who passes his life in self-mortification is not apt to improve under that regime.  For this reason the founder of the greatest of Oriental religions condemned asceticism on the part of his followers, except within certain fixed limits.  But the history of the changes produced by a universal idea is not a history of changes in the individual, but of changes brought about by the successive efforts of millions of individuals in the course of many generations.  Not in one lifetime can we perceive the measure of ethical force obtained by self-control; but in the course of several hundreds of years we find that the result obtained is so large as to astonish us.  This result, imperceptibly obtained, signifies a great increase of that nervous power upon which moral power depends; it means an augmentation in strength of every kind; and this augmentation again represents what we might call economy.  Just as there is a science of political economy, there is a science of ethical economy; and it is in relation to such a science that we should rationally consider the influence of all religions teaching self-suppression.  So studying, we find that self-suppression does not mean the destruction of any power, but only the economical storage of that power for the benefit of the race As a result, the highly civilized man can endure incomparably more than the savage, whether of moral or physical strain.  Being better able to control himself under all circumstances, he has a great advantage over the savage.

That which is going on in the new teaching of ethics is really the substitution of a rational for an emotional morality.  But this does not mean that the value of the emotional element in morality is not recognized.  Not only is it recognized, but it is even being enlarged—­enlarged, however, in a rational way.  For example, let us take the very emotional virtue of loyalty.  Loyalty, in a rational form, could not exist among an uneducated people; it could only exist as a feeling, a sentiment.  In the primitive state of society this sentiment takes the force and the depth of a religion.  And the ruler, regarded as divine, really has in relation