relieve us from these effects. It is
said sometimes that this fatal--if beneficent or beneficial, still
fatal--progress leaves as it were certain interstices in the universe
within which it loses its constraining force, petty provinces but
sufficient, where man is master and determines all events, from which
even, it is sometimes conceded, some obscure but important influences
are permitted to flow, modifying his immediate surroundings, little
sanctuaries where the spirit that is in him and is his devises and
realizes ideals of its own. But the notion of such sacrosanct and
inviolable autonomies is being steadily undermined, and they are felt,
as science becomes more dominant over our imaginations and emotions, to
be no more than eddies in the universal stream, only apparently distinct
and self-maintained, means made and broken for its purpose, really
products and instruments of the world-progress. At any rate, it has been
denied that they can rightfully be thought to stand outside it or
themselves to exercise any effect upon their fortunes and their fate,
still less upon their environment. Another suggestion fully and frankly
acknowledges this, but though denying to us any power to affect either
the form or the direction of the currents on which we are borne along,
declares still open to us the possibility of affecting their speed, and
bids us find satisfaction in the thought that by taking thought or
resolve we can hasten or delay their and the universal movement. Still
another view, abandoning even that hope, proclaims one last choice open
to us, namely, that of sullen submission to, or glad and loyal
acquiescence in, its irresistible sway. But surely all these suggestions
are idle, and but for a moment conceal or postpone the inevitable
conclusion that if Progress was, is and must or will be, that is, is
necessary, what we think or do makes no difference, and can make no
difference to or in it. Whether or no we convert the fact into an ideal,
whether or no we set it before as our aim and exert ourselves to work
for it, it goes on its way all the same. Either then it is not a fact,
never was, and never will be a fact, or it is no possible ideal for
which we can act. To be or become a fact, it must be independent of our
action or our consent or our liking; if it is not all these it is not an
ideal of action, or at any rate not so for us. I must repeat that what
is or can be an ideal of action for us must be wholly and