for ten chapters you have stood it, but not without protest. i know the feeling which is in your minds, and which has manifested itself in numerous criticisms of my ideas. that feeling may be briefly translated, perhaps, thus: 'this is all very well, but it isn't true, not a bit! it's only a fairy-tale that you have been telling us. miracles don't happen,' etc. i, on my part, have a feeling that unless i take your feeling in hand at once, and firmly deal with it, i had better put my shutters up, for you will have got into the way of regarding me simply as a source of idle amusement. already i can perceive, from the expressions of some critics, that, so far as they are concerned, i might just as well not have written a word. therefore at this point i pause, in order to insist once more upon what i began by saying.

the burden of your criticism is: 'human nature is always the same. i know my faults. but it is useless to tell me about them. i can't alter them. i was born like that.' the fatal weakness of this argument is, first, that it is based on a complete falsity; and second, that it puts you in an untenable position. human nature does change. nothing can be more unscientific, more hopelessly mediæval, than to imagine that it does not. it changes like everything else. you can't see it change. true! but then you can't see the grass growing—not unless you arise very early.

is human nature the same now as in the days of babylonian civilisation, when the social machine was oiled by drenchings of blood? is it the same now as in the days of greek civilisation, when there was no such thing as romantic love between the sexes? is it the same now as it was during the centuries when constant friction had to provide its own cure in the shape of constant war? is it the same now as it was on 2nd march 1819, when the british government officially opposed a motion to consider the severity of the criminal laws (which included capital punishment for cutting down a tree, and other sensible dodges against friction), and were defeated by a majority of only nineteen votes? is it the same now as in the year 1883, when the first s.p.c.c. was formed in england?

if you consider that human nature is still the same you should instantly go out and make a bonfire of the works of spencer, darwin, and wallace, and then return to enjoy the purely jocular side of the present volume. if you admit that it has changed, let me ask you how it has changed, unless by the continual infinitesimal efforts, upon themselves, of individual men, like you and me. did you suppose it was changed by magic, or by acts of parliament, or by the action of groups on persons, and not of persons on groups? let me tell you that human nature has changed since yesterday. let me tell you that to-day reason has a more powerful voice in the directing of instinct than it had yesterday. let me tell you that to-day the friction of the machines is less screechy and grinding than it was yesterday.

'you were born like that, and you can't alter yourself, and so it's no use talking.' if you really believe this, why make any effort at all? why not let the whole business beautifully slide and yield to your instincts? what object can there be in trying to control yourself in any manner whatever if you are unalterable? assert yourself to be unalterable, and you assert yourself a fatalist. assert yourself a fatalist, and you free yourself from all moral responsibility—and other people, too. well, then, act up to your convictions, if convictions they are. if you can't alter yourself, i can't alter myself, and supposing that i come along and bash you on the head and steal your purse, you can't blame me. you can only, on recovering consciousness, affectionately grasp my hand and murmur: 'don't apologise, my dear fellow; we can't alter ourselves.'

this, you say, is absurd. it is. that is one of my innumerable points. the truth is, you do not really believe that you cannot alter yourself. what is the matter with you is just what is the matter with me—sheer idleness. you hate getting up in the morning, and to excuse your inexcusable indolence you talk big about fate. just as 'patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel,' so fatalism is the last refuge of a shirker. but you deceive no one, least of all yourself. you have not, rationally, a leg to stand on. at this juncture, because i have made you laugh, you consent to say: 'i do try, all i can. but i can only alter myself a very little. by constitution i am mentally idle. i can't help that, can i?' well, so long as you are not the only absolutely unchangeable thing in a universe of change, i don't mind. it is something for you to admit that you can alter yourself even a very little. the difference between our philosophies is now only a question of degree.

in the application of any system of perfecting the machine, no two persons will succeed equally. from the disappointed tone of some of your criticisms it might be fancied that i had advertised a system for making archangels out of tailors' dummies. such was not my hope. i have no belief in miracles. but i know that when a thing is thoroughly well done it often has the air of being a miracle. my sole aim is to insist that every man shall perfect his machine to the best of his powers, not to the best of somebody else's powers. i do not indulge in any hope that a man can be better than his best self. i am, however, convinced that every man fails to be his best self a great deal oftener than he need fail—for the reason that his will-power, be it great or small, is not directed according to the principles of common sense.

common sense will surely lead a man to ask the question: 'why did my actions yesterday contradict my reason?' the reply to this question will nearly always be: 'because at the critical moment i forgot.' the supreme explanation of the abortive results of so many efforts at self-alteration, the supreme explanation of our frequent miserable scurrying into a doctrine of fatalism, is simple forgetfulness. it is not force that we lack, but the skill to remember exactly what our reason would have us do or think at the moment itself. how is this skill to be acquired? it can only be acquired, as skill at games is acquired, by practice; by the training of the organ involved to such a point that the organ acts rightly by instinct instead of wrongly by instinct. there are degrees of success in this procedure, but there is no such phenomenon as complete failure.

habits which increase friction can be replaced by habits which lessen friction. habits which arrest development can be replaced by habits which encourage development. and as a habit is formed naturally, so it can be formed artificially, by imitation of the unconscious process, by accustoming the brain to the new idea. let me, as an example, refer again to the minor subject of daily friction, and, within that subject, to the influence of tone. a man employs a frictional tone through habit. the frictional tone is an instinct with him. but if he had a quarter of an hour to reflect before speaking, and if during that quarter of an hour he could always listen to arguments against the frictional tone, his use of the frictional tone would rapidly diminish; his reason would conquer his instinct. as things are, his instinct conquers his reason by a surprise attack, by taking it unawares. regular daily concentration of the brain, for a certain period, upon the non-frictional tone, and the immense advantages of its use, will gradually set up in the brain a new habit of thinking about the non-frictional tone; until at length the brain, disciplined, turns to the correct act before the old, silly instinct can capture it; and ultimately a new sagacious instinct will supplant the old one.

this is the rationale. it applies to all habits. any person can test its efficiency in any habit. i care not whether he be of strong or weak will—he can test it. he will soon see the tremendous difference between merely 'making a good resolution'—(he has been doing that all his life without any very brilliant consequences)—and concentrating the brain for a given time exclusively upon a good resolution. concentration, the efficient mastery of the brain—all is there!