THE JUSTIFICATION OF LIBERTY OF THOUGHT
MOST men who have been brought up in the free atmosphere of a modern
State sympathize with liberty in its long struggle with authority and
may find it difficult to see that anything can be said for the
tyrannical, and as they think extraordinarily perverse, policy by which
communities and governments persistently sought to stifle new ideas and
suppress free speculation. The conflict sketched in these pages appears
as a war between light and darkness. We exclaim that altar and throne
formed a sinister conspiracy against the progress of humanity. We look
back with horror at the things which so many champions of reason endured
at the hands of blind, if not malignant, bearers of authority.
But a more or less plausible case can be made out for coercion. Let us
take the most limited view of the lawful powers of society over its
individual members. Let us lay down, with Mill, that “the sole end for
which mankind are warranted, individually and collectively, in
interfering with the liberty of action of any of their members is self-
protection,” and that coercion is only justified
[234] for the prevention of harm to others. This is the minimum claim
the State can make, and it will be admitted that it is not only the
right but the duty of the State to prevent harm to its members. That is
what it is for. Now no abstract or independent principle is
discoverable, why liberty of speech should be a privileged form of
liberty of action, or why society should lay down its arms of defence
and fold its hands, when it is persuaded that harm is threatened to it
through the speech of any of its members. The Government has to judge of
the danger, and its judgment may be wrong; but if it is convinced that
harm is being done, is it not its plain duty to interfere?
This argument supplies an apology for the suppression of free opinion by
Governments in ancient and modern times. It can be urged for the
Inquisition, for Censorship of the Press, for Blasphemy laws, for all
coercive measures of the kind, that, if excessive or ill-judged, they
were intended to protect society against what their authors sincerely
believed to be grave injury, and were simple acts of duty. (This
apology, of course, does not extend to acts done for the sake of the
alleged good of the victims themselves, namely, to secure their future
salvation.)
Nowadays we condemn all such measures
[235] and disallow the right of the State to interfere with the free
expression of opinion. So deeply is the doctrine of liberty seated in
our minds that we find it difficult to make allowances for the coercive
practices of our misguided ancestors. How is this doctrine justified? It
rests on no abstract basis, on no principle independent of society
itself, but entirely on considerations of utility.
We saw how Socrates indicated the social value of freedom of discussion.
We saw how Milton observed that such freedom was necessary for the
advance of knowledge. But in the period during which the cause of
toleration was fought for and practically won, the argument more
generally used was the injustice of punishing a man for opinions which
he honestly held and could not help holding, since conviction is not a
matter of will; in other words, the argument that error is not a crime
and that it is therefore unjust to punish it. This argument, however,
does not prove the case for freedom of discussion. The advocate of
coercion may reply: We admit that it is unjust to punish a man for
private erroneous beliefs; but it is not unjust to forbid the
propagation of such beliefs if we are convinced that they are harmful;
it is not unjust to punish him, not for holding them, but for publishing
them. The truth
[236] is that, in examining principles, the word just is misleading. All
the virtues are based on experience, physiological or social, and
justice is no exception. Just designates a class of rules or principles
of which the social utility has been found by experience to be paramount
and which are recognized to be so important as to override all
considerations of immediate expediency. And social utility is the only
test. It is futile, therefore, to say to a Government that it acts
unjustly in coercing opinion, unless it is shown that freedom of opinion
is a principle of such overmastering social utility as to render other
considerations negligible. Socrates had a true instinct in taking the
line that freedom is valuable to society.
The reasoned justification of liberty of thought is due to J. S. Mill,
who set it forth in his work On Liberty, published in 1859. This book
treats of liberty in general, and attempts to fix the frontier of the
region in which individual freedom should be considered absolute and
unassailable. The second chapter considers liberty of thought and
discussion, and if many may think that Mill unduly minimized the
functions of society, underrating its claims as against the individual,
few will deny the justice of the chief arguments or question the general
soundness of his conclusions.
[237]
Pointing out that no fixed standard was recognized for testing the
propriety of the interference on the part of the community with its
individual members, he finds the test in self-protection, that is, the
prevention of harm to others. He bases the proposition not on abstract
rights, but on “utility, in the largest sense, grounded on the permanent
interests of man as a progressive being.” He then uses the following
argument to show that to silence opinion and discussion is always
contrary to those permanent interests. Those who would suppress an
opinion (it is assumed that they are honest) deny its truth, but they
are not infallible. They may be wrong, or right, or partly wrong and
partly right. (1) If they are wrong and the opinion they would crush is
true, they have robbed, or done their utmost to rob, mankind of a truth.
They will say: But we were justified, for we exercised our judgment to
the best of our ability, and are we to be told that because our judgment
is fallible we are not to use it? We forbade the propagation of an
opinion which we were sure was false and pernicious; this implies no
greater claim to infallibility than any act done by public authority. If
we are to act at all, we must assume our own opinion to be true. To this
Mill acutely replies: “There is the greatest difference
[238] between assuming an opinion to be true, because with every
opportunity for contesting it it has not been refuted, and assuming its
truth for the purpose of not permitting its refutation. Complete liberty
of contradicting and disproving our opinion is the very condition which
justifies us in assuming its truth for purposes of action, and on no
other terms can a being with human faculties have any rational assurance
of being right.”
(2) If the received opinion which it is sought to protect against the
intrusion of error is true, the suppression of discussion is still
contrary to general utility. A received opinion may happen to be true
(it is very seldom entirely true); but a rational certainty that it is
so can only be secured by the fact that it has been fully canvassed but
has not been shaken.
Commoner and more important is (3) the case where the conflicting
doctrines share the truth between them. Here Mill has little difficulty
in proving the utility of supplementing one-sided popular truths by
other truths which popular opinion omits to consider. And he observes
that if either of the opinions which share the truth has a claim not
merely to be tolerated but to be encouraged, it is the one which happens
to be held by the minority, since this is the one “which
[239] for the time being represents the neglected interests.” He takes
the doctrines of Rousseau, which might conceivably have been suppressed
as pernicious. To the self-complacent eighteenth century those doctrines
came as “a salutary shock, dislocating the compact mass of one-sided
opinion.” The current opinions were indeed nearer to the truth than
Rousseau’s, they contained much less of error; “nevertheless there lay
in Rousseau’s doctrine, and has floated down the stream of opinion along
with it, a considerable amount of exactly those truths which the popular
opinion wanted; and these are the deposit which we left behind when the
flood subsided.”
Such is the drift of Mill’s main argument. The present writer would
prefer to state the justification of freedom of opinion in a somewhat
different form, though in accordance with Mill’s reasoning. The progress
of civilization, if it is partly conditioned by circumstances beyond
man’s control, depends more, and in an increasing measure, on things
which are within his own power. Prominent among these are the
advancement of knowledge and the deliberate adaptation of his habits and
institutions to new conditions. To advance knowledge and to correct
errors, unrestricted freedom of discussion is required.
[240] History shows that knowledge grew when speculation was perfectly
free in Greece, and that in modern times, since restrictions on inquiry
have been entirely removed, it has advanced with a velocity which would
seem diabolical to the slaves of the mediaeval Church. Then, it is
obvious that in order to readjust social customs, institutions, and
methods to new needs and circumstances, there must be unlimited freedom
of canvassing and criticizing them, of expressing the most unpopular
opinions, no matter how offensive to prevailing sentiment they may be.
If the history of civilization has any lesson to teach it is this: there
is one supreme condition of mental and moral progress which it is
completely within the power of man himself to secure, and that is
perfect liberty of thought and discussion. The establishment of this
liberty may be considered the most valuable achievement of modern
civilization, and as a condition of social progress it should be deemed
fundamental. The considerations of permanent utility on which it rests
must outweigh any calculations of present advantage which from time to
time might be thought to demand its violation.
It is evident that this whole argument depends on the assumption that
the progress of the race, its intellectual and moral development,
[241] is a reality and is valuable. The argument will not appeal to any
one who holds with Cardinal Newman that “our race’s progress and
perfectibility is a dream, because revelation contradicts it”; and he
may consistently subscribe to the same writer’s conviction that “it
would be a gain to this country were it vastly more superstitious, more
bigoted, more gloomy, more fierce in its religion, than at present it
shows itself to be.”
While Mill was writing his brilliant Essay, which every one should read,
the English Government of the day (1858) instituted prosecutions for the
circulation of the doctrine that it is lawful to put tyrants to death,
on the ground that the doctrine is immoral. Fortunately the prosecutions
were not persisted in. Mill refers to the matter, and maintains that
such a doctrine as tyrannicide (and, let us add, anarchy) does not form
any exception to the rule that “there ought to exist the fullest liberty
of professing and discussing, as a matter of ethical conviction, any
doctrine, however immoral it may be considered.”
Exceptions, cases where the interference of the authorities is proper,
are only apparent, for they really come under another rule. For
instance, if there is a direct instigation
[242] to particular acts of violence, there may be a legitimate case for
interference. But the incitement must be deliberate and direct. If I
write a book condemning existing societies and defending a theory of
anarchy, and a man who reads it presently commits an outrage, it may
clearly be established that my book made the man an anarchist and
induced him to commit the crime, but it would be illegitimate to punish
me or suppress the book unless it contained a direct incitement to the
specific crime which he committed.
It is conceivable that difficult cases might arise where a government
might be strongly tempted, and might be urged by public clamour, to
violate the principle of liberty. Let us suppose a case, very
improbable, but which will make the issue clear and definite. Imagine
that a man of highly magnetic personality, endowed with a wonderful
power of infecting others with his own ideas however irrational, in
short a typical religious leader, is convinced that the world will come
to an end in the course of a few months. He goes about the country
preaching and distributing pamphlets; his words have an electrical
effect; and the masses of the uneducated and half-educated are persuaded
that they have indeed only a few weeks to prepare for the day of
Judgment. Multitudes leave their
[243] occupations, abandon their work, in order to spend the short time
that remains in prayer and listening to the exhortations of the prophet.
The country is paralyzed by the gigantic strike; traffic and industries
come to a standstill. The people have a perfect legal right to give up
their work, and the prophet has a perfect legal right to propagate his
opinion that the end of the world is at hand —an opinion which Jesus
Christ and his followers in their day held quite as erroneously. It
would be said that desperate ills have desperate remedies, and there
would be a strong temptation to suppress the fanatic. But to arrest a
man who is not breaking the law or exhorting any one to break it, or
causing a breach of the peace, would be an act of glaring tyranny. Many
will hold that the evil of setting back the clock of liberty would out-
balance all the temporary evils, great as they might be, caused by the
propagation of a delusion. It would be absurd to deny that liberty of
speech may sometimes cause particular harm. Every good thing sometimes
does harm. Government, for instance, which makes fatal mistakes; law,
which so often bears hardly and inequitably in individual cases. And can
the Christians urge any other plea for their religion when they are
unpleasantly reminded that it has caused untold
[244] suffering by its principle of exclusive salvation?
Once the principle of liberty of thought is accepted as a supreme
condition of social progress, it passes from the sphere of ordinary
expediency into the sphere of higher expediency which we call justice.
In other words it becomes a right on which every man should be able to
count. The fact that this right is ultimately based on utility does not
justify a government in curtailing it, on the ground of utility, in
particular cases.
The recent rather alarming inflictions of penalties for blasphemy in
England illustrate this point. It was commonly supposed that the
Blasphemy laws (see above, p. 139), though unrepealed, were a dead
letter. But since December, 1911, half a dozen persons have been
imprisoned for this offence. In these cases Christian doctrines were
attacked by poor and more or less uneducated persons in language which
may be described as coarse and offensive. Some of the judges seem to
have taken the line that it is not blasphemy to attack the fundamental
doctrines provided “the decencies of controversy” are preserved, but
that “indecent” attacks constitute blasphemy. This implies a new
definition of legal blasphemy, and is entirely contrary to the intention
of the laws. Sir
[245] J. F. Stephen pointed out that the decisions of judges from the
time of Lord Hale (XVIIth century) to the trial of Foote (1883) laid
down the same doctrine and based it on the same principle: the doctrine
being that it is a crime either to deny the truth of the fundamental
doctrines of the Christian religion or to hold them up to contempt or
ridicule; and the principle being that Christianity is a part of the law
of the land.
The apology offered for such prosecutions is that their object is to
protect religious sentiment from insult and ridicule. Sir J. F. Stephen
observed: “If the law were really impartial and punished blasphemy only,
because it offends the feelings of believers, it ought also to punish
such preaching as offends the feelings of unbelievers. All the more
earnest and enthusiastic forms of religion are extremely offensive to
those who do not believe them.” If the law does not in any sense
recognize the truth of Christian doctrine, it would have to apply the
same rule to the Salvation Army. In fact the law “can be explained and
justified only on what I regard as its true principle—the principle of
persecution.” The opponents of Christianity may justly say: If
Christianity is false, why is it to be attacked only in polite language?
Its goodness depends on its truth. If you
[246] grant its falsehood, you cannot maintain that it deserves special
protection. But the law imposes no restraint on the Christian, however
offensive his teaching may be to those who do not agree with him;
therefore it is not based on an impartial desire to prevent the use of
language which causes offence; therefore it is based on the hypothesis
that Christianity is true; and therefore its principle is persecution.
Of course, the present administration of the common law in regard to
blasphemy does not endanger the liberty of those unbelievers who have
the capacity for contributing to progress. But it violates the supreme
principle of liberty of opinion and discussion. It hinders uneducated
people from saying in the only ways in which they know how to say it,
what those who have been brought up differently say, with impunity, far
more effectively and far more insidiously. Some of the men who have been
imprisoned during the last two years, only uttered in language of
deplorable taste views that are expressed more or less politely in books
which are in the library of a bishop unless he is a very ignorant
person, and against which the law, if it has any validity, ought to have
been enforced. Thus the law, as now administered, simply penalizes bad
taste and places disabilities
[247] upon uneducated freethinkers. If their words offend their audience
so far as to cause a disturbance, they should be prosecuted for a breach
of public order, [1] not because their words are blasphemous. A man who
robs or injures a church, or even an episcopal palace, is not prosecuted
for sacrilege, but for larceny or malicious damage or something of the
kind.
The abolition of penalties for blasphemy was proposed in the House of
Commons (by Bradlaugh) in 1889 and rejected. The reform is urgently
needed. It would “prevent the recurrence at irregular intervals of
scandalous prosecutions which have never in any one instance benefited
any one, least of all the cause which they were intended to serve, and
which sometimes afford a channel for the gratification of private malice
under the cloak of religion.” [2]
The struggle of reason against authority has ended in what appears now
to be a decisive and permanent victory for liberty. In the most
civilized and progressive countries, freedom of discussion is recognized
as a
[248] fundamental principle. In fact, we may say it is accepted as a
test of enlightenment, and the man in the street is forward in
acknowledging that countries like Russia and Spain, where opinion is
more or less fettered, must on that account be considered less civilized
than their neighbours. All intellectual people who count take it for
granted that there is no subject in heaven or earth which ought not to
be investigated without any deference or reference to theological
assumptions. No man of science has any fear of publishing his
researches, whatever consequences they may involve for current beliefs.
Criticism of religious doctrines and of political and social
institutions is free. Hopeful people may feel confident that the victory
is permanent; that intellectual freedom is now assured to mankind as a
possession for ever; that the future will see the collapse of those
forces which still work against it and its gradual diffusion in the more
backward parts of the earth. Yet history may suggest that this prospect
is not assured. Can we be certain that there may not come a great set-
back? For freedom of discussion and speculation was, as we saw, fully
realized in the Greek and Roman world, and then an unforeseen force, in
the shape of Christianity, came in and laid chains upon the human mind
and
[249] suppressed freedom and imposed upon man a weary struggle to
recover the freedom which he had lost. Is it not conceivable that
something of the same kind may occur again? that some new force,
emerging from the unknown, may surprise the world and cause a similar
set-back?
The possibility cannot be denied, but there are some considerations
which render it improbable (apart from a catastrophe sweeping away
European culture). There are certain radical differences between the
intellectual situation now and in antiquity. The facts known to the
Greeks about the nature of the physical universe were few. Much that was
taught was not proved. Compare what they knew and what we know about
astronomy and geography—to take the two branches in which (besides
mathematics) they made most progress. When there were so few
demonstrated facts to work upon, there was the widest room for
speculation. Now to suppress a number of rival theories in favour of one
is a very different thing from suppressing whole systems of established
facts. If one school of astronomers holds that the earth goes round the
sun, another that the sun goes round the earth, but neither is able to
demonstrate its proposition, it is easy for an authority, which has
coercive power,
[250] to suppress one of them successfully. But once it is agreed by all
astronomers that the earth goes round the sun, it is a hopeless task for
any authority to compel men to accept a false view. In short, because
she is in possession of a vast mass of ascertained facts about the
nature of the universe, reason holds a much stronger position now than
at the time when Christian theology led her captive. All these facts are
her fortifications. Again, it is difficult to see what can arrest the
continuous progress of knowledge in the future. In ancient times this
progress depended on a few; nowadays, many nations take part in the
work. A general conviction of the importance of science prevails to-day,
which did not prevail in Greece. And the circumstance that the advance
of material civilization depends on science is perhaps a practical
guarantee that scientific research will not come to an abrupt halt. In
fact science is now a social institution, as much as religion.
But if science seems pretty safe, it is always possible that in
countries where the scientific spirit is held in honour, nevertheless,
serious restrictions may be laid on speculations touching social,
political, and religious questions. Russia has men of science inferior
to none, and Russia has its notorious censorship. It
[251] is by no means inconceivable that in lands where opinion is now
free coercion might be introduced. If a revolutionary social movement
prevailed, led by men inspired by faith in formulas (like the men of the
French Revolution) and resolved to impose their creed, experience shows
that coercion would almost inevitably be resorted to. Nevertheless,
while it would be silly to suppose that attempts may not be made in the
future to put back the clock, liberty is in a far more favourable
position now than under the Roman Empire. For at that time the social
importance of freedom of opinion was not appreciated, whereas now, in
consequence of the long conflict which was necessary in order to re-
establish it, men consciously realize its value. Perhaps this conviction
will be strong enough to resist all conspiracies against liberty.
Meanwhile, nothing should be left undone to impress upon the young that
freedom of thought is an axiom of human progress. It may be feared,
however, that this is not likely to be done for a long time to come. For
our methods of early education are founded on authority. It is true that
children are sometimes exhorted to think for themselves. But the parent
or instructor who gives this excellent advice is confident that the
results of the child’s thinking for
[252] himself will agree with the opinions which his elders consider
desirable. It is assumed that he will reason from principles which have
already been instilled into him by authority. But if his thinking for
himself takes the form of questioning these principles, whether moral or
religious, his parents and teachers, unless they are very exceptional
persons, will be extremely displeased, and will certainly discourage
him. It is, of course, only singularly promising children whose freedom
of thought will go so far. In this sense it might be said that “distrust
thy father and mother” is the first commandment with promise. It should
be a part of education to explain to children, as soon as they are old
enough to understand, when it is reasonable, and when it is not, to
accept what they are told, on authority.
[1] Blasphemy is an offence in Germany; but it must be proved that
offence has actually been given, and the penalty does not exceed
imprisonment for three days.
[2] The quotations are from Sir J. F. Stephen’s article, “Blasphemy and
Blasphemous Libel,” in the Fortnightly Review, March, 1884, pp. 289–318.
[253]
BIBLIOGRAPHY
General
Lecky, W. E. H., History of the Rise and Influence of the
Spirit of Rationalism in Europe, 2 vols. (originally published
in 1865). White, A. D., A History of the Warfare
of Science with Theology in Christendom, 2 vols., 1896.
Robertson, J. M., A Short History of Free-thought, Ancient
and Modern, 2 vols., 1906. [Comprehensive, but the
notices of the leading freethinkers are necessarily brief, as
the field covered is so large. The judgments are always
independent.] Benn, A. W., The History of English
Rationalism in the Nineteenth Century, 2 vols., 1906.
[Very full and valuable]
Greek Thought
Gomperz, Th., Greek Thinkers (English translation), 4 vols.
(1901-12).
English Deists
Stephen, Leslie, History of English Thought in the Eighteenth
Century, vol. i, 1881.
French Freethinkers of Eighteenth Century
Morley, J., Voltaire; Diderot and the Encyclopaedists;
Rousseau (see above, Chapter VI).
Rationalistic Criticism of the Bible
(Nineteenth Century)
Articles in Encyclopoedia Biblica, 4 vols. Duff, A., History of
Old Testament Criticism, 1910. Conybeare, F. C., History
of New Testament Criticism, 1910.
Persecution and Inquisition
Lea, H., A History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages, 3
vols., 1888; A History of the Inquisition of Spain, 4 vols.,
1906. Haynes, E. S. P., Religious Persecution, 1904.
For the case of Ferrer see Archer, W., The Life, Trial
and Death of Francisco Ferrer, 1911, and McCabe, J.,
The Martyrdom of Ferrer, 1909.
Toleration
Ruffini, F., Religious Liberty (English translation), 1912.
The essays of L. Luzzatti. Liberty of Conscience and
Science (Italian), are suggestive.
[254]
INDEX
Aesthetic movement, 213
Agnosticism, meaning of, 213 sq.
Albigeois, persecution of, 58
Anabaptists, 78, 95, 125
Anatomy, 65
Anaxagoras, 27
Annet, Peter, 172
Anthropology, 189
Anthropomorphism. 23
Aristotle, 35, 68, 69
Arnold, Matthew, 218 sqq.
Asoka, 92
Astronomy, 87—90
Atheism, 103, 113, 123, 132, 158
Athens, 27 sqq.
Augustine, St., 55
Austria-Hungary, 122, 224
Authority, meaning of, 14 sqq.
Averroism, 88
Bacon, Roger, 85
Bahrdt, 175
Rain, A., 188
Bayle, 107 sq., 135 sqq.
Benn, A. W, 152
Bible, O. T., 192 sqq.; N. T., 195 sqq
Bible-worship, 82, 201
Blasphemy laws, 23, 88, 139 sq., 244 sqq.
Bolingbroke, 153
Bradlaugh, 228, 247
Bruno, Giordano, 84
Büchner, 188
Buckle, 188
Butler, Bishop, Analogy, 151 sq.
Calvin, 78
Cassels, W
Castellion, 94
Causation, Law of, 183 sq.
Charron. 75
Cicero, 39
Clifford, W. K., 213
Clodd, Edward, 224
Colenso, Bishop, 193
Collins, Anthony, 141
Comte, Auguste. 188 sq., 229
Concordat of 1801, French, 115
Condorcet, 227
Congregationalists (Independents), 95, 99, 100
Constantine I, Emperor, 47, 51
Copernicus, 87
Darwin; Darwinism, 180, 182, 225
Defoe, Daniel, 104 sq.
Deism, 137 sqq.
Democritus, 25
Descartes, 129, 131
Design, argument from, 181, 178
D’Holbach, 158
Diderot, 158 sq.
Diocletian, Emperor, 45
Disestablishment, 104, 108
Dodwell, Henry, 147
Domitian, Emperor, 42
Double Truth, 68 sq., 134
Edelmann, 175
Epicureanism, 36 sqq., 84
Essays and Review, 204 sqq.
Euripides, 29
Exclusive salvation, 52 sq., 63, 78
Ferrer, Francisco, 231 sq.
Fortnightly Review, 221
Fourier, 227
France, 74, 100 sqq., 152 sqq.
Frederick the Great, 120 sq.
Frederick II, Emperor, 58, 70
Free thought, meaning of, 18
Galileo de’ Galilei, 87 sqq.
Gassendi, 130
Geology, 178 sq.
Germany, 78 sqq., 117 sqq., 174 sqq.
Gibbon, 82, 162 sqq.
Goethe, 175
Greg, W. R., 203
Gregory IX, Pope, 57
Gregory XVI, Encyclical of, 123 sq.
Haeckel, 187, 228
Hale, Lord Chief Justice, 139
Harrison, Frederic, 188, 223
Hegel, 184 sqq.
Hell, controversy on, 217
[255]
Helmholtz, 182
Heraclitus, 25
Herbert of Cherbury, Lord, 149
Hippocrates, 64
Hobbes, 130 sq.
Holland, 95, 107, 130, 131
Holyoake, 224
Homer, 24
Hume, 160 sqq.
Huxley, 213
Independents, 95, 98 sq.
Infallibility, Papal, 210 sq.
Innocent III, Pope, 56
Innocent IV, Pope, 57
Innocent VIII, Pope, 67
Inquisition, 57 sqq.; Spanish, 59 sqq.; Roman, 83, 84, 87 sqq.
Italy, 122 sqq., 210
James I (England). 85 sq.
Jews, 41 sqq., 68, 99, 105, 111, 194
Joseph II, Emperor, 122
Jowett, Benjamin, 204 sq.
Julian, Emperor, 54
Justice, arguments from, 235
Kant, 175 sq.
Kett, Francis, 85
Kyd, 85
Laplace, 178
Lecky. W. H., 208, 225
Legate, Bartholomew, 86
Lessing, 71, 120
Linnaeus, 177
Locke, 101 sqq., 120, 132 sq.
Loisy, Abbé, 200 sq.
Lucian, 40
Lucretius, 37 sq.
Luther, 77 sq., 81
Lyell, 178, 208
Manning, Cardinal, 210
Marlowe, Christopher, 85
Marsilius, 119
Maryland, 97 sq.
Mazarin, Cardinal, 85, 107
Middleton, Conyers, 150, 164
Mill, James, 151, 227
Mill, J. S., 182, 213, 227, 233, 235 sqq.
Milton, 99 sq.
Mirabeau, 112
Miracles, 141 sqq., 151, 180, 164 sq., 206
Modernism, 199 sqq.
Mohammedan free thought, 68
Monism, 188, 228 sqq.
Montaigne, 74
Morley, Lord (Mr. John), 159, 209, 221 sq., 225
Nantes, Edict of, 107
Napoleon I, 115
Newman, Cardinal, 199, 241
Newman, F. W., 203
Ostwald, Professor, 228 sqq.
Paine, Thomas, 112, 168 sqq.
Paley, 167 sqq.
Pascal, 123, 152 sq.
Pater, 213
Pentateuch, 192 sq.
Pericles, 27
Persecution, theory of, 47 sqq., 232 sqq.
Pitt, William, 151
Pius IX, Syllabus, 210 sq.
Pius X, Pope, 199 sq.
Plato, 36 sq.
Plutarch, 150
Prayer, controversy on, 216
Press, censorship, 91 sq., 224 sq.
Priestley, 227
Priscillian, 55
Progress, idea of, 226 sqq.
Protagoras, 25
Raleigh, Sir W., 85
Rationalism, meaning of, 18
Reade, Winwood, 213
Reinach, S., 197
Renan, 198
Revolution, French, 111 sqq.
Rhode Island, 98
Richelieu, Cardinal, 85, 107
Rousseau. 111, 156 sqq., 239
Ruffini, Professor, 125
Russia, 224
Sacred books, 24, 53 sq., 191
Science, physical, 64 sq., 176 sqq.
Secularism, 224
Seeley, J. R., 208
Servetus, 79
Shaftesbury. 148 sqq., 151
Shelley, 173, 208
Socinianism, 83, 93 sqq.
Socrates, 30 sqq., 39, 235, 236
Sophists, Greek, 26
Spain, 59 sqq., 231 sq.
Spencer, Herbert. 187
Spinoza, 131 sq., 138, 191
Stephen. Leslie, 167, 215 sqq.
Stephen, J. F.. 203, 245 sq., 247
Stoicism, 36, 38 sq.
[256]
Strauss, David, 195, 198
Swinburne. 208, 211 sq.
Tamburini. 122
Tatian, 44
Themistius, 55
Theodosius I, Emperor, 54
Theophilanthropy, 114 sq.
Thomas Aquinas, 69
Thomasius, Chr., 119
Three Rings, story of, 70
Tiherius, Emperor, 40
Tindal, Matthew, 144 sqq.
Toland, 133 sq.
Toleration, 46 sqq., 92 sqq.
Trajan, Emperor, 42
Turgot, 227
Tyndall, 213
Unitarians, 93, 105
United States, 96 sqq., 128
Universities, tests at, 108
Utilitarianism, 227
Vanini, Lucilio, 85
Vatican Council (1869—70), 210
Voltaire, 108 sqq., 114, 121, 153 sqq.
Wesley, 130
Westbury, Lord, 207
Wilberforce, 201
Williams, Roger, 96 sq.
Witchcraft, 66 sq., 80, 129 sq.
Woolston, 141 sqq.
Xenophanes, 23 sq.