Many races, owing to the manner in which life has been evolved, are by nature criminal, just like a lot of individual men and women. Their existence … - J. Howard Moore

No country is without popular heroes. America has at least one. Like young Lochinvar he "has come out of the West." He is in Chicago at present. His name is J. Howard Moore [...] He became a hero by a book. It happened this way. One day the Illinois Legislature passed a bill compelling teachers to instruct their pupils in morals, thirty minutes a week. Forthwith there was a panic. Ladies' hearts fluttered and men's lips dropped naughty words. Nobody in Illinois knew how to teach morals. Nobody? Just one. J. Howard Moore.

John Howard Moore wrote and worked with feverish haste, and he believed that the blind and heartless world would listen to his words and mend its ways. But humanity went on trading and dickering, lying and cheating, marrying and dying, and never heard his voice. One day he opened his eyes and knew his work was in vain, and feeling the weight of the universal sorrow on his soul, he took his life. The coroner's jury determined that "he died from his own hand, while suffering under a temporary fit of insanity." I tell you he died from his own hand while suffering under a temporary fit of sanity [...] Poor, dead dreamer! You are not the first or last mortal to learn the truth. Other men have awakened from the mad and blissful dream of saving mankind from itself. I, too, have dreamed my dreams, had my illusions, and wakened from my sleep [...] Among all who are gathered here there is but one whom we can felicitate on this event, and that one is our friend who lies peaceful and all unconscious of the world. If any word of mine could call back his troubled soul, I should feel myself guiltier far than I would to cause a brother's death.

The universe, so far as we can make out, is neither all wise nor all foolish. It is both good and bad. It maintains some of the most careful economies side by side with the most reckless. The defects of the universe are just as apparent to him who is not cowardly or incompetent as are its excellencies. It is the rogue and the ignoramus who argue in justification of existing barbarisms that these barbarisms are beautiful because they represent the procedures of "nature." As a matter of fact, all ways are nature's ways, the unconscious and clumsy as truly as the intelligent and exquisite. The philosophers of laissez faire, who would have human beings disuse what little intelligence has, during the past twenty millions of years, been developed on the earth, and would have them derive their ethics from the regions of biological somnambulism, are the philosophers to be heeded when humanity goes mad. It is childish to assume that we upper intelligences can not improve on the unconscious conditions about us. It is the very thing that is being done every hour of time. The whole effort of industry is nothing else than an effort to improve the attitudes of the material universe. And it is just as sagacious to suppose that living beings are incompetent to improve their relations to the inanimate universe as to suppose they may not reform and enhance their relations to each other.