.% ^ommn-i'^'' ' ^ommn"^ < ^^WrUNIVER.% ^10SAHCFI% PRESENT STATUS OF SOCIAL SCIENCE. A REVIKW, HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL, OF THE PROGREvSS OF THOUGHT IN SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. BY ROBER.T S. HAMILTOTv:. 11 L. H 1 X T O N , P U B L I S H E R , 7 4 4 BROADWAY. I H 7 .3 . H 19 1= P !{ K FAC K. TiiR j>i-i'-i.Mir \\-(>i-]c \v:is ])i-(']')arod tor ]iul)li(Tition scvoii I years aii;.). and suhiairtcil to a few cMiiiuent crif'i(^s and ^ others, for c'(Hi?idfM"ati(»n. I>;it ])orrioiis of it. es])ecially some passao-es hcarinii; on the lat(,' Ainorican \var, being con.sidcj'od too anta^-onistical to tlie prcvailiiiu' opinion, and tlie then Iii^j-hly excited state of ])nbli(; feelin<; in America, it \va> deemed advisa])le to delay its ])nl)lication for a time. It is now sul)mittcd to the pnhlie. witli tlie lio])e tliat differences of opinion. l)etween the aiitiior and a poiMion of ' his readers, on questions of merely transient interest,, will not ])revent a hcai'ty accoi-d between them, on those that are 1^ of pernjanent and endurinu; monient. If the intentions of the author shoidd be carried out. the present work will, in a short time, be folhjwed by another, o'.i "Tni-: FuNi).\Mi:N"j-.M. Laws of Social Lifk— KMCftDYiXG TnK orTrjM:s of a TUOKoron Social Scienck," that will con- . tain the most ci>ndensed expression of the author's own obsei-vations and reflections, as this contains the most ) condensed expression of those of anterior thinkers. I Od'hf.r Lit, 1S7;J. 4154.94 CONTENTS INTRODUCTION. PAGE Importance of Clear and Definite Ideas as to the True Ends of a Science— An Important Law of Mental Evolution Mtlierto un- recognized—Present Status of Social Philosophy defined in Brief —The True Ends of that Philosophy clearly defined— Identity of the Just and the Expedient — The Necessity nevertheless of re- specting the Apparent Differences between Them — The Three Existing Systems of Thought in Social Philosophy stated and defined . i CHAPTER I. The Three Existing Systems of Thought in Social Philosophy, eon- sidered by the Experimental Test or from the Practical Stand- point — Their Manifest Insufficiency as thus exhibited 37 CHAPTER II. The Insufficiency of the Three Existing Systems considered by the Rational Test, or from the Theoretical Stand-point 49 CHAPTER III General Summary as to the Most Essential Significance of the Three Systems — Thus still more clearly revealing their Essential lusi^fficienej' , . . 62 xxvi CONTENTS. CHAPTEE IV. r.\OE The Keasons for consideiing the More Advanced Ideas of Previous Thinkers, befbre proceeding to develop Those of the Author, which are in entire Accordance with Those More Advanced Ideas. G5 CHAPTER V. Of the Method and Order to be adopted in considering the New Ideas. 75 CHAPTEE VI. The More Advanced Ideas in Social Philosophy essentially ex- pressed and critically examined in Brief— The Seven Main Prop- positions that embody Those Ideas 82 CHAPTEE VII. A Brief Eeti-or.pect into the Wisdom of Antiquity — As manifested' in Confucius and Solon 132 CHAPTEE VIII. A Critical Ecview of Gxnzot and HaUam HO CHAPTEE IX. The Valuable Contributions of De Maistrc and Chalmers to the Philosophy of Society critically considered 150 CHAPTEE X. Sinmondi and Mill — Their Most Essential Contributions to the Phi- losophy of Society brought prominently into View 181 CHAPTEE XI. Of Cousin and Bncklo. and Their Most Essential Contribution to Social I'hilosophy SO";! CONTENTS. CHAPTEE XII, Of Comte and Spencer, and What they have done for the Philoso- phy of Society 234 CHAPTEE XIII. The American Contribution to Social Philosophy briefly considered. Webster, Calhoun, and Henry James particularly noticed. The Late Great War glanced at, and the Lessons it inculcates 277 CHAPTEE XIV. General Summary— The Present Status of Social Philosophy more explicitly defined in brief— Its Commendable Therapeutics— Its Imperfect Diagnosis— Its Copernican Idea distinctly defined— Its Newtonian Idea suggested rather than defined— Concluding remarks 3Qg PRESENT STATUS PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIETY. INTEODUCTION. IMPORTANCE OF CLEAR AND DEFINITE IDEAS AS TO THE TRUE ENDS OF A SCT- ENCE— AN IMPORTANT LAW OF MENTAL EVOLUTION HITHERTO UNRECOG- NIZED—PRESENT STATUS OF SOaAL PHILOSOPHY DEFINED EST BRIEF— THE TRUE ENDS OF THAT PHILOSOPHY CLEARLY DEFINED—IDENTITY OF THE JUST AND THE EXPEDIENT— THE NECESSITY NEVERTHELESS OF RESPECTING THE APPARENT DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THEM— THE THREE EXISTING SYS- TEMS OF THOUGHT IN SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY STATED AND DEFINED. § 1. A science has already made great progress toward the at- tainment of its ends, when it has attained to clear perception what those ends really are. It is already far advanced, when it has come at length to clear understanding of the work it has really to per- form — to full cognition of its true and proper ends. It has been well said by an ancient sage, "He has already half fin- ished his work who has begun it."* Rightly enough may it be so said, and in a far wider sense than that intended by the author of the sentiment. For we do not know, we have not yet learned, how to begin our work properly, until we have already half finished it — nay, nearly completed it — in so far, indeed, as human effort ever completes any work. We have to finish our treatise before we discern clearly how it should have been commenced, and then only are we duly pre . ired to write the introduction, which seldom fails * Horace. Epis< ;s. Book I., Epia. II., line 40. The words are, Dimidium facti, qui coepit, habet. LNTKODLCTION. to suggest a remodelling of the wliole work. We have to end our lives before we learn truly how we ought to have begun them. Who that has ever undertaken to write a book, or essay, or treat- ise of any kind, that has not realized the truth of the former ob- servation ? Who that has ever come to die, with all his senses about him, that has not realized regretfully the truth of the latter ? Nor less to the same point has it been said by a modern savan, " Tlie next thing to having a question solved is to have it well raised."* This is indisputably true. The development of thought requisite to see clearly and state explicitly the problem to be solved, has already proved itself adequate to its solution. Let us but know and dearly perceive the work to be done, in any line, and we have already advanced considerably toAvard its exe- cution. Let the physician only know what the disease is that he has to treat, and the difficulties of his task are more than half removed. How much human effort is uselessly expended — alike in theory and practice— in science and in art, from the want of just and clear apprehension how it should be applied — of just, clear and definite appreciation of the ends to which it should be directed and conformed ! How often, and how long, arc mankind to be seen beating hither and thither in different directions, without any definite idea what it is that they really seek, and with una- vailing effort, precisely because they have no such definite idea ! But let them rightly attain to the true idea, let them but clearly ascertain what it is that they really seek— that they really want, and tliey arc already far advanced toward its attainment. When a science has really discovered how to l)egin its work, how properly to direct and condu(;t its inquiries ab miiio—wluch it can never do until it has attained to just, clear and definite ideas as to its true and proper ends, and which it discovers only at tlio moment it attains to sudi ideas— it is already far advanced ; it has already progressed so far, and accomplished so much, that * J. S. Mill. Sec hi.s Dissertations and Discussions, Vol. II., p. 227. Huston Ed., 1865. Article on Michelct's lliutory. INTKODUCTION. O little remains to be accomplished — little indeed of (he very little that iiuman effort can ever accomplish, even toward understand- ing phenomena, much less toward controlling or modifying them. But, by an apparently anomalous law, this is nearly the last dis- covery that a science makes It is not, however, in reality, by an anomalous law, but by a grand and universal law, hitherto almost wholly overlooked, even by the most profound philoso- phers. By a startling paradox, this is the indisputable truth, a mere corollary from that law — stated, indeed, somewhat too strongly, perhaps, that it may be the more forcibly presented and unavoid- ably seen — the last thing that we leakn in any scn<:NCE IS HOW PKOPEKLY TO BEGIN OUR INVESTIGATIONS. If it be nOt indeed the last that we learn, it is so nearly so, that what remains to be discovered amounts to but little — little indeed, except what relates to verifying observations already made, explaining phe- nomena before observed without being understood, and setting at rest controversy, which before distracted the human understand- ing, embarrassed its efforts, and prevented its rightly applying practical conclusions, long before attained by the higher intelli- gences, but not as yet sufficiently established to unite and concen- trate general effort in the right direction. For then, for the first time, do phenomena, which before pre- sented an unintelligible appearance, become clearly intelligible. Then do objects, which before appeared to the mind in an inverted position, assume their true normal position. Then do facts and observations, which before, as it were, stood upon their heads, turn to their feet — the delighted mind is constrained to exclaim EUKEKA, and the new science stands before the mental view in all its wonderful simplicity and beauty. Perhaps, indeed, we should crave indulgence here for somewhat too hasty speech. The result above indicated, we should rather say, follows not immediately from the mere discovery of the true ends of a science, but from the attainment of those most fundamental truths to which that discovery directs us. But this attainment follows so naturally and speedily, often indeed so instantaneously, from the discovery of the true ends, to which attention should be 4 INTRODUCTION. immediately directed, that we may reasonably be excused for avail- ing ourselves here of the well-established rule of equitable jurispru- dence, that, ivhat is to he done shall be considered as already done. So true is it, as Mill has said, that " the next thing to having a question solved is to have it well raised ;" so strong is the chem- ical affinity of thought for truth ; so reliable is the human intellect, in its highest forms, at least, in coming to right conclusions when it is once fairly started on the right track ; so sure is it to perform its work when it is once rightly instructed what the work to be performed is, that it is only necessary to let the philosophical mind know definitely, or discern clearly, what are the scientific ends to be attained, and they may be regarded as already vir- tually attained. In this respect the human mind, at least the philosophical mind, may be compared to the hunter or hound of truest breed, which, once on the right track, never fails to start the game. Nay, it may be compared to the gi'byhound. Show it the game, and it may be regarded as already caught. Hence it is that so generally, nay, nearly always, the same mind that discovers what are the true scientific ends of a science, discovers also the great fundamental truths, or laws, to which those ends point, and in the discovery of which consists the at- tainment of those ends. It was Newton, for example, who first discovered what were the true ends to which astronomical inquiries should be mainly and fundamentally directed ,• and it was Newton who first attained those great fundamental truths, or universal laws of motion, which completed the long and brilliant series of discoveries in astronomy. The bare statement of the problem to be solved was, to his mind, tantamount to its solution. § 2. The most fundamental truths are generally, if not univer- sally, those which come last into view. Yet these are precisely tlie truths which every science must attain before it can know how properly to begin its work — how rightly to direct its investi- gations, or classify its observations. Ix)ng before these most fun- damental truths are discovered, many highly important ones are brought into view, although until then they are but vaguely '"orceivcd and imperfectly appreciated. INTRODUCTION. O This is the obvious reason why we do not know how properly to begin our work of constructing a science, or rightly classifying or even viewing its phenomena, until we have nearly finished our labors, or certainly gone through the most laborious and most protracted portion of them. For then, for the first time, do we attain to those most fundamental truths which afford the only basis upon which we can scientifically build, or systematize our ob- servations and conclusions. Then, for the first time, do we discover that we have been hitherto looking in the wrong direction for ob- taining a right view of the phenomena to be explained or other- wise dealt with, and that we must reverse our position, and look in the diametrically opposite direction, in order to obtain the true view, the really scientific view of those phenomena. In our first, or non-scientific observations we proceed from the superficial to the fundamental. In our next, or scientific observa- tions we precisely reverse our former movement, and proceed fiom the fundamental towards the superficial — from the general to the pai'ticular, from the simple to the complex, from "the homogeneous to the heterogeneous," as a late writer of rare ability* expresses, in part, the same idea. All mental progression or evolution passes through this double movement, this reverse process. In the first of these stages, and before it has attained the most fundamental truths, the movement is non-scientific, tedious, and slow. In the next it is scientific, easy, and rapid — often instantaneous — quick as the electric flash — the electric flash of thought. In the first stage of progression, movement is im- peded by the obtuseness and fallibility of the perceptive facul- ties — always at first seeing objects, in the intellectual realm, only in their inverted position. In the next it is directed by the un- erring and infallible guidance of the rational faculties — by pure reason — the Divine light that dwells within the human soul. This is a law of mental progression, or evolution, wholly un- observed hitherto, although not less important, perhaps, than Comte's law of the three stages — the theological, metaphysical, and positive ; or Spencer's law of evolution, to which he has attached * Herbert Spencer. 6 rSTRODrCTION. such great importance — that all movement is from the homogeneous to tlie heterogeneous — a law obviously included, as we have just now seen, in the more comprehensive one here laid down — more comprehensive, at least, in so far as it ai^plies to mental evolu- tion.* A great advance in human thought and its modes of philoso- phizing will have been effected when the pliilosophical world shall have come to the general recognition of this great law of mental evolution, so obvious in some of its aspects. The law is, that the human mind passes invariably through a double move- ment in the natural course of its development — that in the first stage or phase of its development it proceeds from the obvious to the obscure, from the superficial to the fundamental, from the ap- parent to the real, from the subversive or inverted view of phe- nomena to their true and scientific view ; and that in its second stage of development, it precisely reverses this movement, and then, for the first time, sees objects or phenomena in their true aspects and relations. In the first of these stages, it should be obvious, the mind passes from the lietei'ogeneous to the homogeneous, or from the complex to the simple, and in the second only follows the law laid down by Mr. Spencer, and passes from the homogene- ous to the heiei'ogeneous, or from the sunple to tlie complex. Vainly, it seems, has nature painted this law, to our sensuous view, on the retina of the eye, where the object is invariably first presented in the inverted position, or upside down — a position which the mind, infallibly guided by instinct in so far as the senses are concerned, immediately rectifies, seeing the object, witliout tlie interventiun of reason, in its true position, * Mr. Spencer's law is more comprehensive in this, that it k applied by him to universal movement or evolution — in the rcjilm of matter as well as of mind — wlicrcas the law here laiil down api)Ues only to mental evolution, as to which it is iniiiiifest that it i.s more copious and comprehensive. There can be no reason- able quciftion afilo the irulh of llr. Spencer's law, nor Comte's either. For they very ncirly uprcc ; although Mr. Spencer, who Iwlongs apparently to the order of Kixus in the intellectual realm, who wisli to reign not onlj' supremely but exclu- Bivclj', 8e treated either waj', altliougli, perhaps, more properly it is a singular noun. But to say "Ethics deals" would lie altogether too violative of euphony even for our little eujilionious dialecr t Mr. Thomas Carl^-lc, in Heroes and Hero- Worship. INTRODUCTION. 23 and man. It is tbis — that the two ideas are essentially identical, and that it matters not to which we may directly address our- selves, except, indeed, that sometimes the one idea throws more light upon the question to be determined, and sometimes the other. The right and the expedient are but different phases of the same truth — its inseparable counterparts — the true equivalents of each other. It matters not, therefore, which we may embrace and wisely prosecute. They both conduct us to the same result, to one common end — that which is right and proper, wisely and truly expedient. » The right is expedient, and the exj)edient, right. This much at least we may know, whatever else we may fail to know. We may not be able to know, to know certainly, or absolutely, what is either right or expedient. But this we may know, that what- ever is right is also expedient, and vice versa. If we can but be assured, by any means whatever, that a thing is just and right, then we may be assured that it is truly expedient. If, on the other hand, we can but be assured, by any means, that a thing is expedient, is truly expedient, and in the largest sense of that idea, then we may be well assured that it is just and right. The infallible mathematics of human reason, in its fundamental pos- tulates, proclaims this truth as indisputable — this great first truth in moral mathematics. We may be indeed mistaken, with our contracted views, as to what is expedient, really and in the largest sense, expedient. But not less may we be mistaken as to what is right, or just. He is indeed a pitiably weak and superficial reasoner who sup- poses that, by adopting the idea of justice or right for his guid- ance, he has obtained an infallible criterion by which to shape his judgment. On no subject do men more differ or disagree than in respect to what is .just, or what is right. On no sub- ject is it really so difficult for the human mind to obtain sure guidance and direction. It is an old pi-overb among the English lawyers, that " the jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery depends upon the length of my Lord Chancellor's foot." Unhappy would it be for mankind if they did not differ and disagree somewhat less as to what is expedient, than as to what 24 INTRODUCTION. is JUST, if it were not really less dilficult to obttiin true guidance by appealing to tliat idea. It must necessarily be so from the nature of things. For the idea of justice appertains to abstract thought, the purely rational ideas, which are very feebly devel- oped, except in a very few minds, while the idea of expediency appertains more to practical thought, the common sense ideas, which are largely developed in the great majority of men. It is often easy enough, for example, to convince a man that it is his true interest to do or not to do a given act, when we should in vain appeal to his sepse of justice or right, in the case, which for a double reason is a feeble idea with most men — first, because they have not the brains to comprehend the idea, and, secondly, because they have not the heart to appreciate or respect it, were it even comprehended. In short, most men are open to argu- ments founded on interest, or the idea of expediency, while but few are open to those founded on right, or the idea of justice. Hence it is that we find really valuable reasoners, the great practical thinkers, nearly always addressing themselves to the great practical questions of Expediency. It is only the senti- mental philosophers, for the most part — we had almost said the school-boy philosophers, and certainly we might say the school- room philosophers — who are to be found frittering away their at- tention on the interminable and indeterminate questions, the de- lusive and ever-deluding speculations, about justice or right, irrespective of their relations to the great practical ends of expe- diency — questions and speculations which utterly fail to throw any satisfactory light, even for the most superior intellects, upon many of the most important concerns of mankind. We beg pardon here of the august name of Plato. But what rule is without its exceptions ? He who discourses so justly, wisely, and nobly of justice as Plato, may surely be excused for having expended some time upon a theme so little suggestive of really just conclusions, except on questions of pure Jurisprudence. In truth, nearly all Plato's ideas of justice, in respect to govern- ment and society, are essentially grounded upon enlarged, saga- cious, and eminently just ideiis of expediency.* * Sec Plato's Ideal Republic. INTRODUCTION. 25 Let us but know what is the expedient, with clear full refer- ence to the just, to all well-settled ideas as to what is in itself just and right, even though we may have partially, or, apparently, at least, to some small extent, to sacrifice those ideas — and we have, at the same time, that which is just and right. Nay, moreover, as to very many things, in order to ascertain whether they are just and right, it is imperatively necessaiy to inquire into their expediency, their utility, their conduciveness to the general good of mankind, in the largest and most comprehensive sense. There is no other sure or reliable criterion by which we can determine whether or not they are just or right. It matters not what Jeremy Bentham may have said, or in- tended to say, in regard to the principle of utility as the true foundation of right, nor what shallow reasoners, incapable of un- derstanding him, may have said against his philosophy, and who commence their senseless bellowings whenever his name is either mentioned or suggested by a kindred thought. The principles here enunciated need no Bentham to substantiate them, nor to pervert them — if, indeed, he has done so — to lead men into mis- apprehension in regard to them, by his defective statement of them, as Malthus has done in regard to his philosophy by his im- perfect and faulty presentation of it. Nor have we anything to do here with his statements of or concerning the great truth here laid down. The wi-iter of these pages is the Rudolph of his own philoso- phy, and claims for it no higher lineage, however august may be its unknown ancestry. No puny Eclecticism enters into that philosophy, as might be inferred from the great deference with which he so often invokes high authority, nay, courts its appro- bation. He is but poorly qualified to act the part of an organ- izer, systematLzer, or revolutionizer, in Philosophy, who does not di-aw for himself, and at first hand, from the ^reat original foun- tains of truth, as they gush out of the Eternal Mind, through the outlet of human reason. It is reason, in its most fundamental and indisputable postu- lates, that declares the eight to be expedient, and the expedient, 2 26 INTRODUCTION.' right. TJiey are convertible terms, substantially equivalent ex- pressions, essentially identical ideas. They arc but the opposite ends of the same rule, the difTerent poles of the same galvanic battery, the convex and concave aspects of the same circle of truth. Said we not rightly before, Nature is ever Janus-faced ? So is truth, or nature in her moral aspects, her psychological mani- festations. It ever looks in two opposite dii'ections, which, never- theless, tend to the same common end, and if steadily persisted in, must eventually conduct to the same end — just as inevitably as two men, travelling due east and west respectively, around the globe, must eventually come together. If on one side, therefore, we see the august visage of nature, in her moral realm, looking toward expediency, and indicating to us the expedient, we may be perfectly sure, that if we could obtain a view of her other front, we should find it looking steadily toward the just — in a direct line toward the throne of eternal justice and right. Briefly and beautifully has it been said by a late writer, " Na- ture is harmoniously constructed ; that which is just is benefi- cial."* To the same point, another has said, in reference to the Great Creator, '' He has so intimately connected, so inseparably interwoven the laws of eternal justice with the happiness of each individual, that the latter cannot be obtained but by observing the former, and if the former be punctually obeyed, they cannot but induce the latter."! Nor less to the same point has the great poet said in the immortal play — ' ' To thine own self be true, And it must follow as the day the night, Thou canst not then be false to any man." These are all indisputsvble truths. If, therefore, men would truly consult their own inti:i;kst, they must pursue the iught, and do JUSTICE to all men, themselves included. In the grand economy of the moral universe, it is sublimely ordained that man's high- est interest is his DUTr. * Patrick E. Dove, on the Elements of Political Science. Ediulmrgh and Lon- don Edition, 1851. Ch. ii., p. 49. t Sir William Blackstone, Commentaries on Law, Intro., sec. il. INTKODUCTION. 27 § 10. These great trutlis, or rather this one great truth thus variously expressed, being indisputably pronounced by the infalli- ble mathematics of human reason in its true normal state, which is the highly enlightened state, it might appear to be wholly im- material to which of these two great correlative and inseparably connected ideas we may directly address ourselves, either in the realm of Ethics or Sociology. But this would be a grand mis- take, just such a grand mistake as the school-room philosophers, we had almost said the Sofiiomokic philosophers, are constantly committing. No great practical thinker, no truly anointed or thoroughly imbued philosopher will commit any such stupid blunder. On the contrary, in spite of the essential identity of the two grand ideas, of the just and the expedient, so ditferent are the appearances which they outwardly present to the human view, so often do actions appear just, without any immediate ref- erence to their utility, and expedient, without any immediate refei'ence to their justice, that it is highly important, for all prac- tical purposes, that we should recognize and constantly bear in mind the distinction, or apparent difference, which the mind in its ordinary perceptions naturally makes between them. The observance of this distinction is often important even in Ethics — far more frequently in Sociology. So much more frequently, in- deed, is this observance necessary in the latter, than in the former domain of thought, that a ditferent general rule in regard to them arises thei^efrom. While in the former, the great paramount question to which thought should be immediately addressed, is the idea of the rjght, in the latter, precisely the converse is the general rule. In Sociology the great paramount question to which thought, investigation, and effort should be immediately addressed, is, mainly, though not exclusively, expediency. Here, therefore, we see the great capital error of Mr. Herbert Spencer in his brilliantly wi'itten, and in many respects valuable, though in others highly fallacious work, entitled Social Statics — a work which presents us indeed an admirable, and in some important respects original disquisition on Ethical Statics, but a very in- difierent, or certainly very insufficient and unreliable one on Social Statics, rightly understood. For, in this work, like his 28 INTRODUCTION. illustrious prototype Plato, in his Ideal Republic, he addresses him- self directly and almost exclusively to the idea of justice. In doing so, he has conclusively shown, not only the insufficiency, but almost inevitable fallaciousness of that mode of investigation in Sociology, which addresses thought aU-absorbingly to this idea. His work in question demonstrates the necessity of repeatedly, nay, generally addressing ourselves to the expedient, — nay, of consult- ing the idea of expediency, in order to ascertain that of justice. For here is the great ground or reason of the necessity for con- sulting expediency — that it throws light upon the question of justice, just as the question of justice often conversely throws light upon that of expediency. We cannot often see the right except through the spectacles of the expedient. In order to as- certain the just, it is often necessary to bring into requisition all the spy-glasses of expediency. Sometimes we have to use its telescopes, sometimes its microscopes, sometimes both. In order to decide what is right, what is best, or what is proper to be done, it is sometimes sufficient to consult simply the idea of the just, sometimes to consult simply that of the expedi- ent. But sometimes again, and in doubtful cases, we have to con- sult both the just and the expedient, and may deem ourselves fortunate, if even then, with all the combined lights derivable from the suggestions of justice and expediency, in so far as they can be obtained by human intellects, we are enabled to arrive at just, right, or truly wise conclusions. How very fallacious then is the idea that the sense of justice, or the idea of the right, even as expounded and developed on ]Mr. Spencer's very correct princi- ple, any more than the idea of the expedient, as developed upon that of Bentham, can conduct us uniformly or unerringly to right conclusions ! There is no possibility of obtaining for man any such infallible or perfectly reliable criterion of right. We can only approxi- mate it — can only approximate sure guidance or direction, in relation thereto. Sometimes the idea of the just best directs us, sometimes that of the expedient. Most generally or exten- sively the former idea best directs us' in pure Ethics, the lat- ter ill Sociology, except indeed as relates to one department of INTRODUCTION. 29 that wide domain of thought, namely, civil Jurisprudence. For there the idea of the jnst reigns almost exclusively ; yet not entirely so. For how often does even the mere jurist have to ap- peal to expediency, in doubtful cases, in order to determine what is truly just ! § 11. While it is true, however, that either the idea of justice or expediency indiiferently may be safely applied to for guidance, and that sometimes the one and sometimes the other best directs us, it is to be furthermore remembered, as already intimated, that we have not always the privilege of consulting equally both ideas. They are not always, nor generally indeed, equally presented to our view. In the mystic chain of truth which intertwines human existence sometimes the links of expediency only, and sometimes again those of justice alone, are clearly revealed to our view. In the great galvanic battery of universal being sometimes we can observe only the positive pole, and sometimes only the negative. Or, to use yet another illustration of the same idea, the Janus- faced visage of nature, as disclosed to view in the moral realm, sometimes exhibits to our view only her expediency front, and sometimes only that which looks directly toward justice. "We find striking demonstration of the great truth thus sought to be illustrated, in our observations in Sociology. As to a vast variety of matters appertaining to that domain of inquiry we must first ascertain whether they are expedient before we can determine whether they are right. Nay, moreover, as to a vast variety of such matters, there is no question as to their rightful- ness or justice, and the only question is as to their expediency, or conduciveness to indisputably proper and eminently desirable ends. He, therefore, who considers the welfare of society only from the stand-point of justice, as Mr, Spencer has done in his Social Statics, will necessarily omit a great deal that is important, and of the highest importance. The whole order of social wrongs which Blackstone has prop- erly enough, though not altogether unexceptionably, designated as MALA PROHIBITA,* Or things to be considered wrong because they * See Blackstone 's Commentaries on the Laws of England. 30 INTRODUCTIOX. are prohibited by the laws of Society, as contradistinguished from the MALA PER SE, or things M'rong in themselves, illustrate this general observation. They may all be considered wrong, or op- posed to what is right or just, simply because they are ascertained or believed to be inexpedient, or opposed to the interest and wel- fare of mankind. AVTiat light does the simple question, ichat is in itself just or right, throw upon the great practical question, wliat acts shall be considered mala prohibita ? Nay, what light does it throw upon a class of questions still more indisputably beyond the reach of the simple idea of justice ; questions about which no doubt whatever can arise on the score of justice, and about which the only doubt that can arise is in relation to expediency ? No one, for example, will dispute, no one can doubt, that it is just, right, and proper, nay, eminently so. that all men should be provided with a sufHciency of the primary necessax-ies of life — with sufficient food, raiment, shelter, and fuel. But how can they be so provided ? This is to this day, the pons asinoi'um of Social Philosophy — the great practical question that has not yet been decided, nay, not even thoroughly discussed as yet, even by Malthusian sagacity, with all its important and far-reaching practicid conclusions. What light does the idea of mere justice, which is not at all involved, throw — what light can it throw upon this great practical question ? It is true that Mr. Spencer does attempt to grapple with this great question, in his Social Statics, in so far, at least, as the Poor- house System is concerned. But he commits a vital error in regard to it, and precisely because he attempts to deal with the question mainly, if not exclusively, from the single stand-point of Justice.* IJut even in regard to those great questions in Sociolog}' on which the idea of Justice is capable of throwing direct light, how inadequate is it often to the solution of those questions, -without the additional light derivable from the most enlarged su""-estions of the idea of Expediency ! How different, for example, are the * See Chapter XII, of this work, where Mr. Spencer's views on this point are more exten.sivelv considered. INTRODUCTION. 31 reasonings of Pinto and Mr. Spencer in regard to justice ! What a contrast, in this respect, between the former and the latter Plato ! The former nobly teaches that justice, rightly understood, con- sists in assigning to each one his due, and in ordaining that every man shall pursue his own proper function in tlie state — that the shoemaker shall make shoes, the hatter shall make hats, the brazier shall deal in brass, the physician shall deal with physic, and the statesman with the destinies of states.* But hear what our modern Plato teaches in regard to justice, lie teaches tliat justice consists in regarding all men as equau, and therefore, as all equally entitled and qualified to pursue all functions, but most especially the most important, the most diffi- cult, and the least understood functions ; that a man who knows nothing about a business has an equal right to manage it with / one who is thoroughly acquainted with it, because, argues our modern Plato, all men have equal rights ; that this rule applies at least to the highest and most abstruse offices of life, and that a fool has as much right to set the world on fire with his folly, as a wise man has to allay the flames of a disastrous conflagration. He teaches, indeed, that the shoemaker should make shoes, the hatter hats, and the like, but that every one has a right to make laws and rule the destinies of states, or to take an equal hand in the business. Every one has a right to vote, and suffrage should he universal, without regard to the fitness of the people for such a dangerous franchise, argues our modern Plato, because all men have equal rights. Nay, an illustrious compeer, of th.e same school of thought, John Stuart Mill, it seems, would abolish the long recognized distinction between the sexes, in respect to this impor- tant franchise. It will only be necessary to go one step farther, to abolish the long-recognized distinction between manhood and juvenility, and the ultimatum of human absurdity — to which our modern Platos seem to be fast tending, in their expanded ideas of justice — will * See the immortal work of Plato, entitled the Republic, everywhere. \\' 32 INTRODUCTION. have been reached at last. In that happy millennium to which they would advance u.?, Ave shall reap the fruits of " universal suffrage," as they expound it, when every question, from the highest to the lowest, shall be decided by the ballot-box, and when the children shall every morning take the vole at the breakfast-table, to determine how their parents shall rule the household during the remainder of the day. Ilappy would it be for the world if tlie head of the ancient Plato could reappear on the shoulders of the modem Plato, or, perhaps we should rather say, on the stilts of our modem philoso- pher, which cause him so unduly to estimate his own stature. We might then learn some more just ideas of justice, as applica- ble to the great practical issues of the day, than Mr. Spencer has affoided us in many of the weak and superficial reasonings of his Social Statics. Then we might learn that the great democratical ideas of the age, so little comprehended by many of its unworthy and incompetent exponents, rightly apprehended, lead to very dif- ferent conclusions from those which are commonly and vulgarly supposed. Then it might be discovered that a true Democracy is not inconsistent with a genuine Aristocracy, and that these two ideas, which are totally in.separable from human society in some form or other, have yet to be hannonized — wisely and justly har- monized, before we shall be able to actusdize the best possible con- dition of human society. Then we might learn that the just harmonizing of those two great and vital ideas of a true " Social Statics," is not to be found in the weak, ridiculous, and palpably false idea, that all men are e(iually fitted for all offices, or indeed for any oflRce, but in precisely the counter idea, somewhat imper- fectly expressed, though nobly appreciated, in part, by the truly great Plato — the idea that ditferent men, different individual men» and different clas.ses, nations and races of men, have their own appropriate functions and parts to play in the grand economy of human existence, and that justice truly consists in assigning to each of these their own appropriate functions. Then might it be found that true Democracy — a just, enlight- ened, and truly wise Democracy — does not cherish the low-born idea that Aristocracy is to be either dreaded or despised, but rather INTltODUCTION. 33 the counter and ennobling idea, that it is one of the main ulterior ends of rightly organized human society to develop and cultivate a true aristocracy — an aristocracy of true worth, regardless of ex- traneous circumstances — an aristocracy to which the humblest son of toil may nobly aspire — an aristocracy which recognizes the great truth that the truly faithful and skilful laborer in any, even the humblest departments of human life, is in his own little sphere an aristocrat, one of nature's own nobility, deserving of universal consideration and esteem. § 12. After this perhaps too long digression on the importance of directing inquiries in Sociology to both of the two main ideas of Justice and Expediency, but mainly and most prominently to the latter, we return to the great fundamental observation, that the great primary end to which investigation and effort in this domain of thought, should be directed and conformed, is the dis- covery of the fundamental causes which determine the social con- dition of mankind— ^rs<, of the depressing causes — secmully, of the countervailing causes. Recognizing this as the great primary end of Social Philosophy we shall be able the more readily, as well as more clearly and justly to estimate the efforts that have been hitherto made in this realm of inquiry, and what is now mainly needed in order to complete those efforts. As already observed, no writer as yet appears to have duly appreciated this great primary end or aim of Social Philosophy, and but few have even directly addressed them- selves to it, while a great many have not addressed themselves to it at all, except, indeed, by implication, and not unfreqently by very remote implication. The multitudinous contributors to Social Philosophy, may all be regarded as belonging to one or other of two grand divisions — of those who have, either directly or by manifest implication, ad- dressed themselves, liowever imperfectly or erroneously, to the great primary end to which all such inquiries should be directed, and of those who have not. The latter may be dismissed from all consideration here, as of too little significance to merit any 2* 34 INTRODUCTION. particular consideration. The former division again may be re- garded as belonging to one or other of two other main divisions, or subdivisions, namely, of those who essentially appertain to some organized or clearly distinguishable system of thought, and those who do not. It is proposed in the present disquisition to consider both of these two last named divisions, and more par- ticularly the last of them, as being by far the more important division, and embracing classes of thinkers whose reasonings are too large to be comprehended in either of the systems of thought that may be regarded as organized, or, at least, clearly distin- . guishable. There are three clearly distinguisluxble systems of thought, to one or other of which nearly all the noteworthy contributions to Social Philosophy hitherto may be referred, in whole or in part. These three ditierent systems may be designated respectively, and will be in these pages, as the Political, the Politico-Economical, and the Malthusian. The distinguishing idea of the reasonings of the first named system, or of the Political school, is that they, either positively or negatively, directly or indirectly, expressly or by implication, atr tribute the social ills of mankind which demand consideration, to some defect or deficiency, some error or omission in the Govern- ment, or political organism, or, in a yet larger sense to speak, in the social oi-ganism of the society. The distinguishing idea of the second, or the Politico-Economical school, is that they in- directly and by implication, rather than directly or expressly, attribute those ills to some misapprehension of the laws of ^Vealth, and a consequent deficiency of "Wealth. The distinguishing idea of the last, or the Malthusian school, it should hardly be neces- sary to say, is that they directly and explicitly attribute those ills to a misapprehension and disregard of the laws of Population, and a consequent excess of Population. It can scarcely be neces.sary to add here, that the founder of the Malthusian school was the Reverend Thomas INIalthus ; that the true organizer, rather than founder, of tiie Politico-Economical was Adam Smith, and that the Political school has no known autlior or organizer — running back to a remote antiquity, and • INTRODUCTION. 35 constituting the first school of thouglit, kJ (.A^ k 38 TITK THREE STSTEJIS. [Chap. I., laws of WEALTH, and the third to some misapprehension or disre- gard of the laws of I'orrr.ATiox. A very little consideration must be sufficient to show the insuffi- ciency of each one of these three systems, and their inadequacy to form the basis of a thorough Philosophy of Society, or a complete science of Sociology — the meagreness of the expositions they present of the laws which determine the social condition of mankind — their inadequacy to meet the requirements of the gi-eat socijd problem to be solved, How is A propeu social CONDITION FOR MANKIND TO BE INSURED? — their failure to dis- cern the radical or fundamental causes which depress the social condition, or to indicate, clearly, intelligently, and consistently, the aims to which .attention should be mainly directed, with a %iew to countei acting, and, so far as possible, eradicating those causes. It is true, indeed, that considerable progress has been made by the latest of those systems, the Malthusian, towards a full dis- covery of the aims to which attention should be mainly directed, or the practical ends to be aimed at by the social philosopher, which constitute what may be termed the remedial policy of Social Philoso- phy, but without a full or just appreciation of the reasons for that policy, or adequate cognition of the causes of those social ills which it is sought to remedy. As a right appreciation of the causes of the phenomena, com- ing within the scope of its obsenations, is one of the most im- portant requisites for eveiy science, indispensable to a rational and consistent vindication of its remedial policy, however just or wise that policy may chance to be, and without which a consistent adherence to that policy cannot be relied upon, we must adjudge the Malthusian, as^well as the two other systems or schools of Social Philosophy, very imperfect and insufficient to form the ba.sis of a thorough system or science of Sociology. Accord- ingly, and as might be expected from its imperfect and meagre induction of causes, we find that Malthusian philosophy, while it rightly aims at the noble end of elevating the moral status OK MANKIND, does SO Only on a very limited scale, and with almost exclusive reference to counteracting what it erroneously regards § 2.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 39 as the main cause which depresses or degrades the social condition of mankind — the too gieat tendency of the human species, in common with all animated nature, to multiply its numbers. § 2. It is only when a science has thoroughly^pprehended the causes of the phenomena with which it has to deal, that it can IBe expected to frame a remedial poli^^fuUy adequate to the control or modification of those phenomena, in so far indeed, as they may admit of control, or modification, by human agency. In this mainly consists the great insufficiency of the existing systems of social philosophy. They are all too superficial and con- tracted in the scope of their induction and reasoning as to the CAUSES which determine the social condition, while only one of them has made any important advance toward thoroughly correct views as to the proper modes of attempting to improve it. Their diagnosis of causes is very imperfect, if not absolutely erroneous, while only one of them has attained to a tolerably correct thera- peutics, for the social maladies which it is sought to cure. The Political system, the most superficial of them all, as already before shown, attributes the ills of the social state, which it is proposed to remedy, to some defect in the Government, or political organism of society, and vainly looks to some reorganization of that organism, or to some action or other on the part of govern- ment, for their removal or correction. The Politico-economical system impliedly, though not avowedly, attributes those ills, or all the ills that it seems to regard as worthy of any serious con- sideration, to some mistake or misapprehension in regard to the laws of Wealth, and not much less vainly seeks to remedy those ills by disseminating correct views in regard to those laws, and, more particularly, by actually increasing the aggregate or general wealth of society. The Malthusian system, much less superficial and unphilosophical than either of the other two, attributes those ills to the tendency of all animated nature to press too closely upon its means of subsistence, thus striking down, it is true, to the very koots of the matter, as exhibited in the PRIMITIVE AND INEVITABLE LAWS OF NATURE, but Confining itS attention only to one root of a manifold cluster of roots, and 40 THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. I., that too not the tap-root — attributing, justly indeed, the ills of the social state to the primitive and inevitable iaws of nature, but taking altogether too partial and contracted a view of those laws, in their tendency to determine, and more particularly to de- press, the social or economical condition of mankind. § 3. That neither of these causes, to which these three differ- ent systems or schools of Social Philosophy respectively direct their main attention, is the true cause, or main true cause, of the social ills which they seek to remedy, or the main true cause to which attention should be mainly directed, may be demonstrated by considering what effect would be produced by the removal of those causes. Nor does the insufficiency of these several sys- tems really need any more conclusive demonstration than is afforded by the illustration which may be thus obtained, how little is effected, for the welfare of society, by accomplishing for it all that they severally seek to accomplish, or, rather, how lament- able the accomplishment of the ends they aim at, fails to remedy the ills complained of. If the idea of the Political school were correct, then it would follow that under political institutions conformed to their views, in the main, if not entirely, the social ills complained of would no longer exist, or not at least in anj-thing like nearly the same proportion as under political institutions diametrically opposed to their views. If the idea of the Politico-economical school were correct, then it would follow that in those countries in which the science of Wealth had been cultivated with great success, and in such a manner as to cause wealth to abound to an extraordinary degree, those ills should not exist, or at least only in a very miid and mitigated form. If the idea of the Malthusian school were correct then it would not less follow, that, in those countries in which population is scanty, and much in request, as in colonial settlements, or other newly settled countries, like California and Australia, those ills would not exist. § 4. But there is abundant evidence, experimental as Avell as more purely rational, that no such result Ls obtainable from cither § 4,] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 41 of the conditions indicated, nor indeed from all combined. Thus it is found, that, in the United States, where the political insti- tutions are conformed to the most approved ideas of the Political school, in the main, if not exactly and completely, those social ills which have ever formed the subject of complaint since organ- ized human society began, exist, to almost as great an extent as under the anti-republican governments of Europe, which are es- sentially antagonistic to their ideas, and to very little, if any, less extent than is sufficiently explained, and accounted for by the far less density of population in those states — by the fact that they are new, while the European states are old countries. In the United States, just as in European countries, we find, although in a much less marked degi'ce — as in all new, or rather young societies, — the same tendency to the formation of a broad line of demarcation between the capitalist and laborer, which has been the subject of complaint ever since the formation of civilized society, the same tendency of the rich to become richer and the poor poorer, the same tendency of one portion of society to become altogether too rich and of another to become or to remain altogether too poor, the same tendency of the workings of the social organism, or, rather of the organism of the Universe, as manifested in that part of universal nature which the social organism constitutes, to throw off a large number of its com- ponent members from all opportunity of earning a competent livelihood, and dooming them to the sorrowful condition so touch- ingly described in the melancholy language of Holy Writ, " the foxes have dens and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head." Thus, in like manner, it is found that in England, where the science of wealth has been cultivated with extraordinary success, and where it is generally and justly conceded that wealth more abounds than in any other country in the woi'ld, social distress, in its various forms, also prevails to an extraordinary degree, and, in fact, to a much greater extent, and in much more aggravated forms, than in far less wealthy countries, in relatively poor coun- tries, such as Switzerland, Norway, Sweden and Denmark — thus conclusively demonstrating that it is not to a mere increase of 42 THE TnPvEE SYSTEMS. [Chfip. I., national wealth, nor to a just apprehension of the laws of wealth leading to such increase, that we are to look for a removal of the causes which depress the social condition of mankind. Thus, also, it is found that, in new colonial settlements, as Australia, California, and many of the more recently settled states of the American Union, where the great want is moi*c population, an increase of labor, there is not, by any means, an absence of the social distress which forms the subject of general complaint in human society, as should be the case if the Mal- thusian idea were strictly correct, but, on the contrary, a wide- spread and almost universal want of the proper comforts of life — thus conclusively showing that it is not to a mere reduction of population that we are to look for an improven ent of the social condition, nor to a mere excess of population that we are to look for the cause which most fundamentally and extensively depresses the social condition. It is true, indeed, _ that, in such states of society as we find in these newly-settled countries, there is veiy little of the kind of suffering that forms the most prominent subject of complaint in human societj', and which is so glaringly manifest in older socie- ties, — very little of the inability of able-bodied laborers to ob- tain employment — very little of that ruinously low rate of wages which is one of the gi'eatest banes of society — very little of absolute pauperism, or abject want, on the part of any consider- able class or number of the community. This exemption from the mo.st prominent ills of the social state, however, is dearly purchased, for such states of society, by the sacrifice of the general comfort of the society at large. For while such states of society are eminently favorable to the lower classes, they are eminently unfavorable to the higher, and, what is more important, eminently unfavorable to the general welfare of the community — building up the fortunes of one important class, but pulling down those of another, and lowering tlie general condition and average comfort of the society — affording, indeed, a paradise to the^ laboring man, but render- ing existence impossible, to a class sciircely less indispensable to a §§ 5, 6.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 43 model condition of human society, than a well-conditioned labor class, a highly educated and refined afiluent class. § 5. This exemption, nevertheless, which such states of society enjoy, from the most prominent and probably most serious ills of the social state, bears suggestive and conclusive testimony to the truth of the Malthusian idea, to a considerable and very important ex- tent — thus conclusively showing, also, that it is much nearer the truth, the whole truth, that we are in quest of, than either of the other two systems. For truth is ever consistent with itself, in spite of apparent contradictions, sometimes to be encountered ; and in "as much as the Malthusian idea is, to a considerable and very im- portant extent, true, inasmuch as over-population is in reality one of the immediate causes which depress and degrade the social condition, whenever that circumstance is removed, we find the social condition materially improved, in respect, at least, to the most prominent ills that demand redress. But inasmuch as over- population is not the sole cause, nor indeed the main cause, of social degradation, its removal fails to effect the removal of all the ills that demand redress, or to insure the end proposed — a proper social condition. Inasmuch as the leading ideas of the Political and Politico- Economical schools have little or no truth in them, except, indeed, indirectly and remotely, inasmuch as what they respectively re- gard as the main causes that depress the social condition, are not in reality among the immediate causes at all, but only among the INDIRECT and KEMOTE causes leading to that result, the removal of those causes, we find, accordingly, does not exert any sensible influence whatever in improving the social condition, in respect, at least, to those more prominent ills observable in the social state to which philosophical attention is and ought to be most generally directed — the lamentable poverty of the poor and the scarcely less lamentable aflfluence of the rich. § G. Thus it appears that we may accomplish for human society all that each one of the existing schools of Social Philoso- phy seeks to accomplish, and yet manifestly fail to attain the end proposed — a model condition of human society, or more simply 44 ' THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. I., to speak, a proper coxdition of human society, which may- be defined, in brief, as that in which the comfort of all is insured, and the affluence of a large class. Not much more difficult is it to demonstrate, that we may accomplish for human society all that these three schools com- bined seek to accomplish, and yet fail to attain the desired end — that, in short, what each one of these schools singly fails to ac- complish they all combined fail to accomplish. That this is so we may find conclusive illustration and demon- stration, experimentally, in the example of the United States of America, already cited. In those states we find actualized, to a very great extent, and to a far greater extent than anywhere else, or ever before, all the three conditions which the three existing schools of Social Philosophy make their controlling ends respect- ively, and yet we find, as before remarked, a sad fijilure to actual- ize the desired end — a model or proper condition of human society — a condition, in short, in which few are perniciously wealthy, many are affluent, all comfortable, and none, therefore, destitute. In the United States we find almost perfect government, or almost as perfect as the nature of man allows, an average of national wealth scarcely if at all second to that of England, and a general scantiness of population actually, and more especially in relation to the ultimate capacities of the country to support population, so great as to make an increase of population one of the greatest wants of society everywhere throughout those states. But the desired end has not been attained. A proper condition of human society has not been actualized. On the contrary, throughout the United Stata«, as well as throughout the states of Europe, although of course in fur less proportion, one of the most glaring ills observable in the social condition, gaunt pau- perism, stalks abroad. From evciy state of the American confederacy the cr}' of des- titution audibly and systematically arises, which is always and ever}'where trivial in comparison with that which is stifled by the sentiments of an honorable pride and proper self-respect, or is § 7.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 45 only littered in the half-suppressed sighs and groans which pov- erty will wring even from the noblest soul when struggling too hard with its grievous trials. In the State of New York, which is in many respects the most favorably circumstanced of the United States, there were, in 1843, not less than 82,754 regular paupers, or about one in thirty to the total population ; and, in addition to these, there were 62,047 paupers temporarily relieved by the public officers, making an aggregate of 144,801 paupers, or about one to every eightem of the inhabitants of this eminently fortunate state.* In Massachusetts, a state even more favorably circumstanced than New York, every respect being considered, and decidedly the most favorably circumstanced of all the American states in respect to its political institutions, there were, during the same year, 15,655 regular paupers, or about one to forty-eight of the total population, f showing a much smaller proportion of pauper- ism, indeed, than in New York, where the proportion is doubtless increased largely by the larger percentage of foreign immigration, but sufficiently large to indicate that even in this, the most favor- ably circumstanced of all the highly favored American states, one of the most glai'ing and aggravated of the ills, obsei'vable in the social state, exists to a very grievous extent. § 7. Conclusive as is the demonstration thus practically af- forded, by the condition of society in the United States, of the insufficiency and fallaciousness of all the tlu-ee existing schools of Social Philosophy, to some portions of the political school, to those who belong to Avliat we have elsewhere designated as the third CLASS of that school, | this demonstration will not be satisfactory. Having no other stock in trade than the pitiful idea, that gov- ernment is the cause of all the ills experienced by human society, to this idea they adhere with incorrigible tenacity. Like the doleful bird, known to the poetical world as " Poe's Raven," * See American Almanac for 1845, p. 226. Upon a point so indisputable, it lia.s not been deemed necessary to invoke any more recent statistical reports. f See same authoritj"-, p. 211. The number of paupers temporarily relieved in Massachusetts is not stated. X See Part III. of this Series, Chapter 3, not yet published. 46 THE TIIREK SYSTEMS. [Chap. I., wliose only stock in ti'ade was the single word, it had somewhere picked up, and which constituted its sole response to every ques- tion, — "nevermore," — these senseless declaimers, against the injustice of governments, have no otlier response for any and every question concerning the causes which depress or injuriously affect the social condition, under any circumstances, than that it is owing to some wrong, or fault, or error on the part of government, to which alone they direct their contracted views. In Europe, indeed, they make this response in relation to the condition of things there, with some show of reason, some color of justice. But they are not less pertinacious in making it, also, in regard to the condition of things in America, where there is no justification or excuse for such stupidity. In Europe, these contracted theorists of the political school, are for ever crying out for a government like that of the United States. Regardless of the existing state of society there — pro- foundly ignorant of the important truth that governments do not form society, but society governments — profoundly ignorant that governments are the mere outgroirths of society, which is itself but the frameit'07'k of the existing ideas and habits of the people composing it, and that if any other government were manufactured for a people, or attempted to be set up over them, than such as is the spontaneous and natural outgrowth of the existing state of their habits and ideas, it could not permanently stand, could not take root or thrive — these unwise revolutionists are forever striving to subvert the existing governments of Europe, and sub- stitute in their stead such government as exists in the United States of America. Give us but such government as they have in the United Slates, ciy these short-sighted reformers, and we shall regenerate society in Europe, and cure all its serious mala- dies. Well, they have such a government gi'anted to them, in America, as they are constantly praying for in Europe, as \\\q panacea for all their woes. But what does it avail them ? They arc still not satisfied with the government, nor of the fallaciousness of their theory, respecting the causes which depress the social condition, and which Lave to be cuunlurvailed in order to elevate it. They § 7.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 47 still insist that it is owing to some fault in the government, or existing social organism, that the desired condition for mankind is not actualized. In the language of one of their organs, from an American stand- point, Mr. Stephen Pearl Andrews, who has been before alluded to, in a preceding part of this work,* it is owing to " some subtile and undiscovered cause of manifold evils lying hid down in the very foundations of our existing social fabric," and which he, in the plenitude of his simplicity, proposes to remedy by allowing every man to manufacture money as he wants it, by issuing his own notes of hand, — a prescription about as wise and efficacious as that which should declare that every man shall be at liberty to fix the state of the thermometer for the climate he lives in, and to ordain, if it so please him, that the mercury shall never fall below seventy, nor rise above seventy-ftve. But what this " subtile and undiscovered cause" is, these sage Solons have never been able to determine satisfactorily either to themselves or others. While some opine, doubtless, with Mr. Stephen Pearl Andrews, that the cause is the inability of every man to impart the same credit to his notes of hand that any other man has — his inability, in short, to convei't his own private pocket into a bank of circulation — some assert that it is the want of " free trade," others that is "too much free trade," others again, that it is "land monopoly." Nor is it at all uncommon in American society, to find some seedy gentleman, who, from some one or more of the manifold causes, either positive or negative, which really depress the social condition — possibly because he he was too lazy to work, or lacked the judgment to work judi- ciously, has been unsucessful in business — who, discoursing largely on the errors of government, slaps his hand emphatically upon his thigh, assures the company that he has given the subject his profound attention, and that his own misfortunes and those of the rest of mankind, are all owing to " class legislation." With this class of thinkers, however, we have already dealt sufficiently in a former part of our work,t or the series to * See Part III., Chap. 3d of this series. f Part III., Chap. 3. 48 THE THREE SYSTEMS. which this belongs, nor would it be profitable to waste more time with them, now that we are hastening towards, and are nearly arrived at, the grand conclusions, and all-embracing, all- harmonizing ideas, of the system to be proposed, in which every system, and every class of ideas, will find themselves distinctly recognized, in so far as they are true, and in respect to their proper relations to the grand science of Sociology. CHAPTEK II. THE INSUFFICIElfCy OF THE THREE EXISTING SYSTEMS CONSIDERED BY THE RA- TIONAL TEST, OR FROM THE THEORETICAL STAND-POINT. § 1 . However unsatisfactory, to the visionary class of thinkers alluded to in the foregoing chapter, may be the demonstration, practically alForded by the condition of things in the United States, of the insufficiency and fundamental erroneousness of all the three existing schools of Social Philosophy, to all truly scien- tific or truly philosophical minds, it must appear conclusive,; for it merely ratifies and confii'ms the conclusions of reason. It is merely an experimental verification of a rational deduction. It is entirely in accordance with what reason, aided by general observation, adjudges to be true. Reason, aided only by general observation, if not in its strictly a priori conclusions, pronounces — what in the condition of things in the United States we find specially tested and veri- fied — that each one of the three existing schools of social philoso- phy is insufficient and fundamentally erroneous ; that they are, each and all, in error as to the real cause or causes which de- press the social condition of mankind, and that we might, there- fore, accomplish for mankind all that they severally and jointly seek to accomplish, and yet fail to actualize the desired end — a PROPER CONDITION OF HUMAN SOCIETY. § 2. Reason adjudges that government, or, in a yet larger sense, the organism of human society, cannot properly be regarded as the cause of the social condition existing under it, and that, therefoi'e, any attempt to change that government or organism, as a means of improving the social condition — except, indeed, in so far as such attempt may be in aid of the spontaneous movement of the. society itself — must be unavailing and delusive, because govern- ment, or the organism of society, is not, by any means, so much the CAUSE as the effect of the social condition. 3 50 THE TIIIJEE SYSTEMS. [Chap. II., Government is the foliage, not the root of the social condition. It is but the natural outgrowth of the state of society in which it exists, and although it may be modified to a considerable extent, by culture, and influencos ah extra brought to bear upon it, it can never be essentially changed, or rendered radically different from what the existing state of society tends to make it. It can no more be so radically changed, than the vegetation natural to cer- tain soils and climates — no more, indeed, than oranges or pine- apples can be made to grow in Norway or Kussia. Nor is it any less true, that if it could be so changed, as it could only be by in- fluences ah extra, it would not materially change that social con- dition from which the existing government had sprung, as an indigenous growth. To seek to change the social condition of a people, therefore, by merely changing their government or social organism, is like seek- ing to remove the cause by attacking merely its effects — like seeking to cure the disease by treating merely one of its symp- toms. It is like seeking to affect the roots of the tree by merely clipping or dressing its branches, which may be indeed, under some circumstances, beneficial, but must always be superficial and very limited in its influence. Nay, moreover, we may say, it is like seeking to change the very soil and climate of a country, by merely changing the character of its vegetation, as by intro- ducing new grasses or cereals, which indeed, we know, may exert some influence on the soil, at least, and very faintly also on the climate,* but must always be trivial in its effects, in comparison Avith the influence wiiich those natural conditions exert, in deter- mining the character of its flora. As the flora or vegetation of a country reacts on the character * It would be a great mistake to suppose that the climate of a country cannot be at all affected or modified by a change of its flora. Though no appreciable effect may lie so produced upon its thermometricul character, a verj' decided one may be i)roduced on its hygrometrical, and -what is perhaps more important, on its hygienic character. There seems to be no doubt tliat the climate of Egj'pt, in re- spect to the moisture discharged by its atmosphere, especially in the form of rain, has been materially clianged by the great number of trees planted by Mohammed All. It rains now copiously in parts of that countrj' where before it never rained. (See Mitchell's Geography. Title Egypt.) § 2.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 51 of the soil and climate from which it originally sprang, and as the introduction of a new flora, by ab extra influences, may modify that soil and climate, so, and to no greater extent whatever, may government react on the social condition from which it spontane- ously sprang, or modify that condition, when it is introduced by extraneous or foreign agencies. For government, as we have before had occasion to remark, while reviewing Roman Sociology,* may be likened to the ban- yan-tree, which, altliough its growth, like that of other trees, is originally occasioned by the character of the soil and climate in which it flourishes, yet, when it has once attained its full develop- ment, reacts powerfully on the soil, and somewhat also on the cli- mate, ovei"shadowing the ground, and influencing to a considerable extent, the vegetation around it. But you cannot make the ban- yan-tree grow in England. Nor can you make some kinds of government thrive among some kinds of people : as, monarchy, properly so called, that is, absolute monarchy, among Anglo- Saxons ; democracy among Frenchmen ; or good government of any kind among Hottentots or negroes. The endeavor to improve the social condition of mankind by merely tinkering with their political institutions, which is, to this day, the controlling aim of statesmen in general, not less than of popular reformers, and their auditory, the populace — this endeavor lo remove the cause by attacking merely its effects — to cure the dis- ease by treating merely one of its sijmiotonts — to change the very climate of a country, as it were, by merely introducing a new Jlora — is, in short, about as unavailing and preposterous as would be the endeavor to cui"e the Asiatic cholera by merely applying a smelling-bottle to the patient's nose, to relieve his nausea ; or the endeavor to change the climate of Kamtschatka by introducing into that country the bananas, the palm-trees, and orange groves of a tropical clime. Quite evidently, it is in some other direction, than that in which the political school point us, that we are to look for the causes which really depress the social condition of mankind, and the in- • See Part II. of this series, Chap. III. 52 THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. II., fluences that are to countervail those causes, and elevate that con- dition. § 3. Reason adjudges, also, although in less strong and ener- getic terms, that the mere knowledge of the laws of Wealth, or rational perception of the processes by which it is created, cannot properly be regarded as the cause of the social condition of a people, in respect to the degree of wealth they may possess, nor the mere increase of their aggregate national wealth resulting from such knowledge ; and that, therefore, any endeavor, like that of the Political Economists, to disseminate correct ideas in regard to those laws, and thereby, moreover, to increase the ag- gregate national wealth, as a means of improving the social condi- tion, must be delusive, or of little avail ; because the acquisition of wealth does not so much depend on a rational pePvCEPTION of the processes by which wealth is produced, as on the possession of those energies, physical, moral, and intellectual, by which those processes are carried on. Nor does a proper social condition, by any means, so much depend on the mere aggregate mass of na- tional wealth, as upon the manner in which that wealth is dis- tributed, which can only be effectually determined and controlled by the same agencies by which wealth is lyroduced — by the requi- site energies, in the different individuals composing the nation, for diverting, from the aggregate mass of the national wealth, a proper share for their own requirements. The error of the Politico-Economical School is, in short, very nearly akin to that of the PoUtical. It is the same error, though in a less aggravated or palpable form, of mistaking the efpect for the CAUSE — of endeavoring to reach the cause by operating merely on the ei^fect. For Political Economists evidently do not so much regard Man as the cause and creator of "Weiilth as they regard Wealth as the cause and creator of man. Such, at least, to all practical intents and purposes, appears to be their view. Instead of treating Wealth as a mere incident and appen- dage to Man, they constantly treat JNIan as a mere incident and appendage to AVeidth. They_makeJ\ycalthj^n^ hort, not ^ lan, thf^ primary object of consideration^ This is the great funda- § 4.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 53 mental error of the Politico-Economical School — an error wliich involves all their reasonings, misguides all their aims, vitiates all their conclusions. Obviously enough, it should appear, the Political Economists have committed the blunder of putting the cart before the horse. Nor need we wonder that, in such an awkward procedure, they have made so little progress towards the desired end, the ameliora- tion of the human condition. In the method of their philosophy they have exalted the incident above the principal, the creature above the creator. It was in reference to this great fundamen- tal error, of this school, that Sismondi, himself one of the school, whose mind, however, had expanded beyond the measure of the contracted ligaments which restrain the inquiries of that school, exclaimed — "What, then, is wealth everything, and man noth- incr ?"* § 4. It is remarkable how mankind are constantly committing this error, in their advance towards the truth, in every Science. Their constant proneness to this error may afford some verification of Comte's somewhat obscure law of the three stages, through which the human mind ever passes in its advance toward true science — the theological, metaphysical, and positive. But it more manifestly affords verification of the more obvious and in- disputable law, or truth, that mankind are always caught and deceived, at first, by the more obvious and superficial view of things, and are only, slowly and by degrees, advanced towards the less obvious and more profound view, which is invariably the more important and more suggestive of the whole truth. Thus, in Astronomy, we find them for a long time regarding the earth as the stationary centre of the Solar system, and not until the time of Copernicus definitely ascertaining that the very reverse of this, the apparent view, was the true one. Thus, too, in Geology, we find them beginning their observations, as is very natural, with the rocks lying on the surface, which, in most countries, are either the tertiary or secondary formations, and only * See the translated Essaj's of Sismondi on various Political and Politico-Eco- nomical questions. London Ed., 1847, p. 43, alsopoitea Chap. X, § 3. 54 THE THHEE SYSTE5IS. [Chap. II., at a later period of their investigations, striking down into the more fundamental and primary. Perhaps, indeed, the geological stratification of the Earth, and the order in which it is gradually unfolded to the human view, may be accepted as a perfect t}T3e and illustration of the order in which the human mind naturally, if not necessarily, proceeds to- wards. a thorough knowledge of the external world, in all its as- pects — an inverted order — as we see illustrated, furthermore, in the order in which external objects are presented to the mind, by a picture painted, or daguerreotyped, as it were, on tog retina of the eye — upside dozen.* However this may be, as a universal law, there can be no doubt of its very extensive applications. We find it verified in Astronomy, in Greolog}', and in Sociology. As in astronomy and geology, so in Sociolog}', w^e here find that mankind have been until now, with the exception of some vague and disconnected sugges- tions of the reverse method, and some imperfect approximation toward it, in practice, on the part of the Malthusians, confining their attention to the mere surface of human society in quest of the causes which determine its condition — to the most obvious and superficial view of the social condition for a solution of its most abstruse problems — to the mere effects of the social condition, for a discovery of its causes. Thus it is that we find Social Philosophers, until now, almost exclusively directing their attention either to the mere political institutions which Man throws around him, or, somewhat less superficially, to the mere wealth which he creates with his own hands, for the real causes of his prosperity, or the reverse, and never as yet fixing their attention directly, and most prominently, if not exclusively, on man himself, who, under subjection to * As may readily be detected, here the idea first suggested itself to the author, which, in the Introduction to this work, has been so much more fully developed. That introduction, like most introductions, being written last, the author was best prepared, in that part of his work, to do justice to the idea. For this is in accordance with the great law itself, so little understood or considered. The most imiK)rtunt ideas come last, in the order of discover}-, though they should come first in the scientific order of considering thon. The last, then, bocomes first, and the first last. § 5.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 55 some control from the laws of his Natural Environment, is, and must ever be the real Architect of his fortunes, the true Creator of his destiny* — to man, iiimsei-f, who is, ever has been, and ever must be, the " Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last," of all that concerns his Social destiny. §5. In addition to this great fundamental error of the Politico^ economical scho()l^_of_supposin g that the improvement of th e social condition of mankin d is to be effected by fixi ng attention directly on the laws of wealth, instead of t he laws of man's o yni natur e, physical, moral and intellectua l^_t wo other more par- ticular erz'ors of their syst e m, nearly all i ed to this fundamenj tal, o ne, if not~its na t ural offspring, jnay claim somejnorejgarticular notice bei'e. These are, first, the general idea, im plied in their mode ^Ti'easoni ng^^ that a"E nQw iedge or rationa l perception of tb^ laws of wealth is necessary , or at least esse ntially cond ucive to it s acquisition, and, secondl/ /, the more j jarti cular i dea, not less manj - festly implied in their philosophy, that an increase of the aggre-; * The author must beg to be here explicitly understood, in pronouncing man the architect of his fortunes and creator of his destiny, as speaking in a physical and practical sense, mereh', not in a metaphysical, or stricth' philosophical, strictly correct, sense. For, strictly spealiing, man is neither a creator nor archi- tect, but a mere instrumentality, a vae.x(^nanifestatlon of some unseen, unappre- ciated RKAi.rry. He is but a part of the grand machinery of the universe ; in all liis acts, like everj' other part of that grand machinery, conforming to laws, fixed, inevitable, mathematically certain, and necessary, laws — even in his volitions, which, though superficiallj'' and vulgarly supposed to be, unlike other mental phenomena, self-created and independent of law, are, in reality, as much governed by law as any other phenomena, either mental or physical. God, himself — if the atheistic tendencies of recent science will allow sucli a term — God, himself, cannot will, except in conformity, in rigid obedience to law, fixed, inevitable, matliematically certain, and exact law. How absurd, then, to talk about the volitions of man being free'? Admitting it to be true, as asserted by the weak adherents of the free-will school, or free-agenc\' school, of Ethics, * that a man can do as he wills, which is true only as to a very few things, still it remains to consider, can he will as he icills ; or, rather, can he loill, except in conformity to law, to law inevitable and beyond his control ? Can he will, ex- cept as his natural propensities, as modified by the whole train of circumstances b}' which he has been surrounded from his birth, and as influenced by all the sur- roundings of the moment, prompt and imperatively ordain? 56 THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. 11., gate national wealth is, in itself beneficial.^ Neither of these "ideas is correctTexcept to a qualified and very limited extent. A knowledge of the laws of wealth is not necessary to its acquisition — not any more so than is a knowledge of the laws of health necessary to the possession of health — not any more so than is a knowledge of the laws of physiology necessary to the right movement of the human frame. A man does not require a knowledge of physiology in order to know that he should step forward instead of backward, nor to teach him how to contract his muscles, in order to leap a fence or dodge a stone. All these things, and many raoi*e, he learns to do instinctively and unconsciously, and so he does also, to a qualified extent, and certainly to a far less extent, in regard to the acquisition of wealth. He instinctively, and almost uncon- sciously, follows the suggestions of tliose physical, moral and in- tellectual activities of his nature that are the real producers of wealth, without concerning himself at all with rational consider- ations as to the mode in which his exertions tend to the produc- tion of wealth. Many of the healthiest and most robust men are profoundly ignorant of the laws of physiology, as well as of therapeutics, and hygiene, while many of the most delicate and unhealthy are pre- cisely those who are most conversant with those laws. Nor is it any less true that the men who are most successful in producing or acquiring wealth are often those who know least about its abstract or scientific principles. The bee amasses wealth with- out any knowledge of the laws of political economy, and so does man. Of what great avail, then, is the dissemination of knowledge respecting those laws — respecting the merely abstract and scien- tific principles of wealth ? Of some avail undoubtedly it is — of some importance, as already remarked in a foi-mer part of our work. It is important, however, only as is the infiucnce of gov- ernment important — indirectly and remotehj — but having little or no direct or immediate bearing on the social condition of a people. It is important, undoubtedly, with a view to preventing govern- ments from so acting, through ignorance of those laws, as to be the occasion of positive injury to the industrial or economical interests of society. §§ 6, 7.] THE THREE SYSTEMS. 57 § 6. Quite as little truth is there in the more particular idea of this school to which their more peculiarly specific aim is con- formed, that an increase of the aggregate national wealth is, in itself, beneficial. For general observation and experience clearly enough indicate, what reasoning from analogy would infer, that IN SOCIOLOGY A3 IN ASTRONOMY, GRAVITATION IS TOWARDS THE LARGER BODY — a law which finds its expression in Sociology in the constant tendency of the rich to become richer and the poor poorer, after the society has attained a certain development, or density of population, as a density varying according to circum- stances, from one hundred to two hundred to the square mile — in the constant tendency of an increase of the national wealth in such societies to aggravate this two- fold evil of the social con- dition. Thus it appears, that what this pretentious school of Social Philosophy is constantly striving for and makes the grand spe- cific aim of its philosophy, is, in itself, rather a curse than a blessing, unless indeed it be properly qualified and checked in its natural tendency. Malthusianism has already demonstrated that the attainment of this their grand specific end, is simply nugatory, inasmuch as the mere increase of wealth tends only to the mere increase of population to consume the wealth — a proposi- tion of original Malthusianism, it is true, which, as we have be- fore seen, has been justly subjected by the later Malthusians to some important qualifications. But of what great value is a school or system of Social Philosophy which tkus blunders, mis- takes, and misdirects its inquiries ? Evidently enough, it is in some other direction than that in which they point attention, that we must look for a satisfactory solution of the great social problem to be solved. § 7. Reason adjudges, also, although in less strong and ener- getic terms, than in respect to either of the two before-noticed errors, th»t the mere excess of Population cannot properly be re- garded as the true cause, or at least the main true cause, that afflicts the social condition of mankind, and that an endeavor to improve that condition by merely reducing population would be 3* 58 THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. II , of but little avail in any case, of doubtful utility in many, and of undoubted injuiy in some. Among the many causes which may, with some degree of pro- priety, be assigned for every phenomenon, that is evidently to be regarded as the true cause, or main true cause, and therefore, in common parlance, tue tkue cause, or, ^jar excellence, the CAUSE, which most essentially and immediately contributes to produce the phenomenon, and the removal of which will insure its disappearance. Now, very plainly to the eye of reason, it must appear that the mere excess of population cannot properly be regarded as such a cause, in reference to those phenomena of the social state, which are antagonistic to the realization of a proper social condition, and which it is or should be the main aim of Social Philosophy to remove or to mitigate. Very obvi- ously, excess of population is not the cause, the removal of which will insure the desired social condition. It is obviously a very poor plan, and certainly a very imper- fect and insufficient one, for affecting the removal of any ill to diminish the force, or any one of the forces, by which it is to be combated. But this is precisely the nature of the plan which Malthusian philosophy proposes for the removal or mitigation of the most deplorable ills that have been hitherto found inseparable from human society — the poverty of the poor, and the painful stringency and difficulty of earning a livelihood experienced by many not properly to be regarded as of the poorer class. It is a very poor plan, in short, for insuring a right supply of wealth in the riglit places, namely, in the hands of those who really need it, to diminish the main force by which wealth is created, namely, Labor, or, in other words. Population. Labor, or po|)uIation, w hich constitute3 _or_sujTpligs_la bnr, ia^ themain Torcej jiat creates we alth/ Nay, in the eye of Political Economy, which regards only values and not utilities however im- portant, that have no value, or exchangeable price, it is the sole creator of wealth. For capital, which must generally, if not in- variably, co-operate with labor in the production of wealth, is itself but the product of anterior labor, and may be elegantly terrnod merely cuystallized lauou. Yet it is precisely this ;j 8.] THE TIIUEE SYSTEMS. 59 Labor, or Population, which is, with some important qualifioa- tions, its convertible term, the excess of which Malthusian philosophy regards as the main cause that afflicts the social condition, and by the removal of which alone, it proposes to improve that condition. § 8. Very manifestly, the effect of a mere reduction of popu- lation, under most circumstaifices, if not indeed under all, must be to lessen the aggregate productive force of the society, and by consequence the aggregate production of wealth, resulting there- from, by diminishing the incentives to industry, and relaxing the severe tension, which excess of population tends to give, to eveiy nerve and muscle and sinew of that productive force. This relaxation may indeed be beneficial, and undoubtedly is so, under many circumstances, but must always be of but partial influence, and must, under most circumstances, only confer benefit in one form, to take it away in another — only improve one por- tion of society, to injure another portion — only raise up the labor-class, to lower the afiiuent class. Hence it is, in entire ac- cordance with w^hat reason thus inculcates, that we find in very sparsely-populated countries, as before remarked,* a paradise to the laboring man, while existence is rendered extremely difficult, if not impossible to an affluent class, without which a proper condi- tion of human society is not less impossible, than without a well- conditioned labor-class. However desirable and important, Indeed, may be the reduction of population, under many circumstances, it must be apparent to the higher order of intellects, on a little reflection, that an excess of population, not less than the tendency of population to inci'ease beyond the proper means of subsistence, which occasions such excess, is, upon the whole, beneficial in its eflTects — is, in short, one of the necessary forms of evil, which we could not take away without incurring some still greater evil. This idea, as we have before had occasion to remark,t is not exclusively the idea of the author, but has been before expressed also by McCulloh, in his Principles of Political Economy, al- * See Chapter I., §4. t See Part V., Chap. IV., iu which McCulloh's views are critically examined. GO THE THREE SYSTEMS. [Chap. 1±., though not quite so distinctly and emphatically. Thus, indeed, do we find a triumphant proof of the truth of the Malthusian idea, so much railed against by shallow declaimers, on the very ground on which they have planted their main objections — the Avisdom and goodness of the plan of Providence. Thus do we find that the very tendency to ecccess of population, which, they argue, cannot exist, because it is opposed to thj^ wisdom and goodness of design, is, in reality in harmony therewith. Thus, moreover, do we find, at one and the same time, conclusive illustration of the truth of the Malthusian doctrine, and of the futility of its aims, in so far as they are directed to the specific end of removing that which they erroneously regard as the 7}iam evil to be combated in the social state. § 9. What sort of scheme, indeed, for improving the social condition of mankind, is that, which, for the most part, only im- proves that condition in one way to injure it in another — only takes away one form of evil to impose another — -which, in order to remove one of the partial forms of social evil, seeks to abolish one of the very conditions which are indispensable to the highest attainable state of human society, one of the conditions that are indispensable for successfully combating the combined force of all the ills that afilict humanity ? Such is the scheme which Malthusian philosophy proposes, which in order to remove the partial evils resulting from the tendency of population to increase beyond the proper means of subsistency seeks to abolish that tendency altogether — and thus to deprive society of the incalculable benefits resulting from that tendency, when not too much aggravated in its form — thus to deprive society of all the good resulting from this form of evil. Quite evidently, must it appear, that it is in some other direc- tion than that in which Malthusian philosophy points us, or, at least, with a somewhat more searching gaze, that we must dii'ect our attention, if we would clearly and thoroughly discern the causes which detennine the social condition of mankind — the causes which, most essentially and inevitably, tend to depress that condition, on one hand, or to elevate it, on the other. § 10.] THE THREE SYSTEMS- 01 § 10. Thus do we discern, both experimentally and rationally, the manifest insufficiency of all the three existing schools of Social Philosophy. Thus do we find that we may accomplish for mankind all that these three schools, severally and jointly, seek to accomplish, and yet fail to actualize, that which is the proper aim of all Social Philosophy, a proper social condition. Thus do we find that we may bestow on mankind the best political institutions, — that we may instruct them thoroughly in the laws of wealth, and endow them with the largest abundance of "national wealth," resulting from such instruction, — that we may deplete population, to any extent we please — that we may do all these things, and still fail, lamentably fail, to attain the desired end. Very obviously, therefore, it is in some other direction than that in Avhich either of these schools point us, that we must look for solution of the great problem to be solved. CHAPTEE III. GENERAL SCMilARY AS TO THE MOST ESSENTIAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE THREE SYSTEMS— THUS STILL MORE CLEARLY REVEALING THEIR ESSENTIAL INSUF- FICIENCY. § 1 . That the insufficiency and positive meagreness of the three existing systems or schools of thought in Social Philosophy may be made yet more manifest, by still greater condensation of their most essential ideas, let us yet more succinctly than before reca- pitulate those ideas. The all-absorbing idea of the Political school is, How shall mankind be governed, or, at most, how shall they be organ- ized ; that of the Politico-economical is, How can mankind be ENRICHED, or, expressing their idea at once more clearly and more accurately — Hoiv can two blades of grass be made to groio u'here only one grew before ; that of the Malthusian is, How can the tendency to over-population be prevented, or, in other words, how can two persons be j)r evented from growing ivhei'e only one grew before, luhensoever two blades of grass are made to grow where only one blade grew before. § 2. When it is duly considered to how small an extent man- kind ought really to be governed, that is to say by political au- thority — when it is duly considered that the best way of so gov- erning men is, in fact, for the most part, to let them alone — that, in short, the proper function of government, as already before shown,* is to let manldnd alone, itself, and insure their being let alone by others, or, as Herbert Spencer has expressed the same idea, is simply to grant protection to men, and that, whenever government is allowed to do more than this, there is always dan- ger of its becoming a special cause of mischief, always danger of its doing more harm than good to society — when these considera- tions are duly weighed, how small, how comparatively insignifi- * See Tart 3, Chap. I. THE TIIKEE SYSTEMS. 03 cant, appears this gi-and, this all-absorbing idea of the Political Doctors of the world — How shall mankind be governed politi- cally, or by the public authority of states ! § 3. When, again, it is duly considered of how little utility is the mere increase of National Wealth, at least after a nation has once attained a proper density of population, as some tivo hun- dred to the square mile — of how little utility is the realization of the much -vaunted endeavor to make two blades of gi-ass grow where only one grew before — when it is duly considered that the natural tendency of this increase oi grass, or its equivalent idea, wealth, is, for the most part, merely to increase the population to consume the grass, how insignificant and even paltry appears this the grand aim of the Political Economists and their entire school of Social Philosophy ! § 4. When it is duly considered, yet again, of how little utility, of how limited influence, under any circumstances, must be the mere reduction of population — that such reduction must in- evitably tend to diminish the aggregate productive force of so- ciety, at the same time that it diminishes, undoubtedly, the severe pressure of the social machinery on the labor class — that this prescription for the sufferings of society, if applied too freely, is calculated indeed to operate like the policy that holds on at the spile and lets out at the hung — is calculated to do more injury to the society at large, than it does good to any particular class — how very partial and limited must appear the absorbing aim of Malthusian philosophy, greatly in advance, as it unquestion- ably is, of the other two schools of Social Philosophy ! § 5. The Political School, in short, in their reasonings on the social condition, and in their endeavors to improve it, have direct- ed their attention only to the hark and branches of the tree of knowledge, appertaining to Social Science ; the Politico- Eco- nomical, somewhat less superficial, has penetrated the trunk and examined critically its vital circulation ; the Malthusian, far more discerning than either, has struck down into the very roots, but unfortunately for the cause of Social Science hitherto, has seized G4 THE Timi:E systems. upon only one root of the manifold cluster of roots demanding attention, and has missed the tap-root. Nay, moreover, Malthusian philosophy has not only failed to bestow proper attention on the whole cluster of roots, fx-om which the social condition of mankind springs, as a natural growth, but it has utterly failed, not less than the other two Philosophies, to bestow due attention on what are scarcely less important, the soil and climate, in which those roots are to be developed, and from which they are to derive their nourishment. In short, while Malthusian philosophy has, with eminent pro- priety, bestowed its attention directly on man, it has not only failed to take a sufficiently comprehensive view of him, in his manifold ramifications of himself, but has also failed to bestow any attention whatever on the laavs of his environment, which are to man, both in his individual and aggregate develop- ment, precisely what the soil, climate, and other natural condi- tions are to the plant, or the seed and roots from which it is developed. This brief exjyose, by metaphor, of the essential significance of the three existing Philosophies of Society, clearly reveals their lamentable deficiencies. Quite evidently we need a Philosophy that shall supply these deficiencies. Quite evidently we need a Philoso- phy of Society, which, founding itself upon man and the laws of his NATURAL ENVIRONMENT, as primary fundamental principles, shall construct, upon these foundations, the frame-work of a thorough and complete Social Science, subordinating to these fundamental principles, whatever is really valuable in other, and more super- ficial systems of thought respecting the principles of Society. To organize such a Philosophy, to lay the enduring basis of such a Science of Society, is the paramount aim of the author of the present undertaking. CHAPTEE IV. THE REASONS FOR CONSIDERING THE MOKE ADVANCED IDEAS OF PREVIOUS THINKERS, BEFORE PROCEEDING TO DEVELOP THOSE OF THE AUTHOR, WHICH ARE IN ENTIRE ACCORDANCE WITH THOSE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. § 1. If the author of this work were, like the greater number of discoverers in Science, or founders of new systems of Philoso- phy, more ambitious to appear the sole discoverer of truth than to do full justice to the valuable contributions of those who have preceded him in the world of thought, he might here end his KEviEAV of the thoughts of others and proceed at once to the de- velopment of his own — he might here abandon the office, he has assumed, of the critical historian of the Philosophy of Society, and assume at once that of its constructor and architect, an office far less laborious, and for which he is, in many senses, far better qualified. But such a course would be incompatible with the thorough execution of the task he has undertaken, of presenting to the world the combined result of all anterior researches, and reason- ings on the Philosophy of Society, before proceeding to the pro- mulgation of his own, which would, indeed, be but little worthy of attentive consideration if he had not thus availed himself of the benefit of all anterior investigations. Having undertaken this task, it is his pui-pose to discharge it faithfully, to execute it thoroughly. The task is eminently worthy of the undertaking, not less as a proper, if not, indeed, a requisite preliminary to his own peculiar views, than as a valuable and much needed contribution to the History of the World of Thought, which, philosophers seem, at last, to be coming to understand, is far more deserving of con- sideration than that which has hitherto almost wholly engrossed historical consideration — the Histoiy of the World of Action. An eminent thinker has well said : " It is a great proof of our respect for the human species, when we dare not address it from 6G REASOXS FOR CONSIDERING [Chap. IV., the suggestions of our own minds, without having first conscien- tiously examined into all that has been left to us by our predeces- sors, as an inheritance."* It is with a deep sense of this respect, which is due to " the human species," and more especially to the eminent thinkers who have preceded him in this important field of inquiry, that the author now addresses the scientific world. A much more eminent thinker, Victor Cousin, in his great work, on the Philosophy of History, by a singular misnomer, en- titled, " Introduction to the History of Philosophy," has still more forcibly said, to the same point : " Whosoever, in the study of any science, neglects its history, deprives himself of the ex- perience of centuries and places himself in the situation of tlie first inventor ; and he thereby needlessly places in opposition to himself the same chances of error which his predecessors were obliged to encounter ; yet with this difference, that as the first errors were necessary, they were useful, and consequently more than excusable ; whereas a repetition of the same errors, being unnecessary, would be useless, and unproductive of any benefit to others, and therefore disgraceful to himself. Human Science, like humanity itself, should be progressive ; and a real progress in science is made, only when a new work represents aU that pre- ceded it, as well as what is peculiar to its author, when an author resumes all anterior labors, and adds to them the fruits of his own."t This is precisely what the author of the present work proposes to accomplish, by the great preliminary work which he has undertaken, and of which that now submitted to the world is but a fraction, or seventli part.J § 2. Having now demonstrated the insufficiency of the three existing systems or schools of Social Philosophy, and which are the only ones that can, with any propriety, be regarded as oi^an- * Madame de Stael, in her work on Germany. f Cousin's Introduction to History of Philosophy, Lecture XL, p. 330. Bos- ton edition of 1832, as translated liy Linlierg. I More properly we should say, the Sixth part, because the Seventh part of this Serie.", or that immediately succeeding the present, is designed to present the fundamental ideas of the author's own system of Social Philosophy, and its . general outlines. § 2.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. G7 ized systems of thought in regard to the Philosophy of Society, it might, indeed, appear that nothing rightly remained for the author to do, but to proceed at once to the development of his own plan, or system, for organizing thought and directing en- deavor in this vast and momentous realm of Science. But, by adopting this course, we should omit notice and lose sight of the most valuable contributions, by fixr, that have been as yet made to the Philosophy of Society — contributions which place the contributors beyond the pale of either of the three well- defined systems of thought on Social Philosophy, by reason of the very largeness of their thoughts and comprehensiveness of their views — thoughts too large, and views too comprehensive, to be embraced by the circumscribed confines of those contracted sys- tems. Evidently enough, the human mind is rapidly expanding beyond the measure of the contracted systems of thought that have here- tofore circumscribed it, in this field of science. Of this expansion many evidences have been afforded by late eminent thinkers. Can we consistently or properly omit notice of these evidences ? To do so would be to expend attention on antiquated and nearly worn-out systems of thought, such as we have already considered, and withhold it from thoughts tending toward, and clearly apper- taining to, more enlarged and more correct systems, to be here- after organized. The intellectual world, not less than the physical, has its tran- sition epochs, of which the present century is pre-eminently one. Long before any new system of thought, in any science, is duly organized, evidences of a tendency toward it may be clearly dis- cerned. Without such evidences, indeed, the proposer of any such new system might well doubt as to its corj-ectness, nor would it be scarcely less than presumption in him confidently to propose it. Nothing is at the same time invented and perfected. No thorouglily organized system of thought concerning any science, can be exclusively the product of one human brain. Hence, it was well said by the sage of antiquity, " In a multitude of coun- cillors there is safety."* Nor much less correctly has it been ♦ Solomon, G8 REASONS FOR CONSIDERING [Cliap. IV., said by a modern savan, " That is a hazardous precedent which lias not as yet been approved by the example of worthy men."* Is it to be supposed that the new System of Thought in regard to the Philosophy of Society, which the author of this woi'k pro- poses to introduce, if it is true, has never as yet been recognized, however imperfectly, by any other mind ; that no testimony to its peculiar doctrines has yet been afforded by any of the eminent thinkers to whom the present age has given birth ; that none of the new ideas, or rather, not commonly received ideas, which ap- pertain to that system, have as yet been expressed, nay, urgently insisted on, by any of tliose eminent thinkers ? Can it be sup- posed that the contemplated system does in reality accomplish, for the Philosophy of Society, what the combined result of the teachings of Copernicus and Newton accomplished for the philoso- phy of the stars, and that no evidences of a tendency toward it are as yet, in this advanced period of human science, to be dis- cerned ? It would be the height of presumption and of folly to suppose so. Even the Copernican theory of the solar system had been before conjectured by Pythagoras, and somewhat approximated by Phi- lolaus, Aristarchus, and other ancient astronomers. Nay, the grand and conclusive discoveries of Newton, in regard to the laws of Gravity and the universality of their operation, had been almost attained previously by Kepler, Gilbert, and Hooker. One of the too extravagant eulogists of Newton has justly said concerning him, " An alliance indeed of many kindred spirits had been long struggling in the combat, and Newton was but the leader of the mighty phalanx — the director of their combined genius — the gen- eral who won the victory, and wears its laurels." f If such were the truth in regard to the most loudly-bruited and really most valuable discoveries in Astronomy, still less can it be supi)0scd that any one mind can have advanced very greatly beyond all others in Sociology — a science far more practical, far more nearly related to the immediate interests of mankind, and which * Sir Edward Coke. t Brewster's Life of Newton. Vol. I., Chap. XL, p. 251. Edinburgh Ed., 1855. § 3.] THE MOUE ADVANCED IDEAS. 69 has engaged, to a considerable extent, the attention of the most superior minds in all ages. If it is true, as undoubtedly it is, of all other sciences, still more must it be true of this, that no indi- vidual mind can throw itself very greatly in advance of all others. The most that any one mind, can accomplish, as a leader in science, is to step somewhat in advance of the grand army of advancing humanity, or its great central column, the phalanx of science, and gently urge forward the mighty and ever slowly-moving mass. This is all that the greatest discoverers or leaders in science ever do. The author of this work certainly does not expect, nay, dares not even hope, to do more. § 3. For these reasons, a consideration of those evidences of a tendency toward a higher system of thought in Social Philosophy, is not less due to the author of this work himself, than to those eminent thinkers by whom those evidences have been manifested, and moreover, to the task which he has undertaken, of presenting to the scientific world a brief expose of the combined result of all anterior investigations in Social Philosophy, as a preliminary to the presentation of his own. If such evidences do not exist, or if, existing, they do not tend to establish the system proposed, serious doubts may well be entertained as to its correctness. If they do exist, and tend to establish that system, they are strong testimonies to its truth. For every human mind is, to a certain extent, an oracle of nature — an oracle of the truth, in regard to the most essential condition or nature of things. More especially is this true of superior minds, of the independent or original order of thinkers. Every independent human thinker — every thinker who has enough of the centrifugal force of mentality, in himself, to gyrate in an orbit of his own, or i-ather, to move as a primary body in the intellectual realm, and not as a secondanj — not as a mere satellite of some other thinker — is a credible witness, aiFords competent testimony, however inconclusive, to the truth of that which he proclaims, or claims to have discerned, in the course of his own independent revolutions. When many such independent thinkers concur in proclaiming the same truth, how strong becomes that testimony ! 70 REASONS FOR CONSIDERING [Chap. IV., If the irregular motions or perturbations of a single worlrl, like Uranus, were sufficient to indicate to astronomers the probable existence of another world not yet discovered, and lead them to the discovery of this world, in the person of the planet Neptune, how much more should the like motions of many such worlds in- dicate the momentous truth? If, in like manner, the testimony of a single human mind to the existence of new truths, not em- braced by any of the existing systems of Social Philosophy, and requiring another and more comprehensive system to embrace them, be competent testimony to the probable existence of such truths, how strong becomes that testimony when many minds concur in sustaining it — how potent does it become when many of the most eminent thinkers of the latest and most advanced period of human thought are found bearing testimony to the same truths, and emphatically proclaiming them ! § 4. Desirous of obtaining the support and co-operation of such eminent thinkers, the author of the new system rather courts than rejects theii* concurrence of opinion. Unlike the greater number of discoverers in science, whose main ambition seems to be to appear original and therefore different from all anterior inquirers, it is rather /lis aim to appear to be in harmony with the most ap- proved thinkers that have preceded him, and, indeed, with all anterior inquirers — nay, not to appear to be in harmony with them, merely, but actually to be so. It could not be otherwise, indeed, consistently with his own fundamental ideas in Philoso- phy. For, entirely agreeing with Victor Cousin, " that there is no total error in an intelligent and rational being,"* he is com- pelled to adopt a yet larger postulate, which may indeed be re- garded as a coroUaiy, or unavoidable deduction from that of Cousin, that he alone is the true philosopher whose system comi'I{p:iiends and harmonizes all systems. That the .system which he proposes to introduce does this, for all anterior systems of thought in regard to the Philosophy of Society, and more especially for those more enlarged ideas that * Cousin's Elements of Psychology, as translated from the French, by Rev. C. S. Henry. Chap, ix., p. 240. § 5.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 71 have not as yet been reduced to system, is, to his mind, the grand and conclusive proof and verification of its truth. The proposer of this system does not appear before the scien- tific world as a fomenler of controversy, but rather as a harmonizer of discords. He does not come as an innovator or, in any sense, AN AGITATOB, but rather as the composer of strife, and the adviser to quietude, alike in the world of thought and of action. Still less does he come as one claiming to be wiser than all other men, but simply as one who has extended his observations a little further and somewhat more comprehensively than any other inquirer. He does not come, indeed, so much as an originator, as an organizek, in the world of thought. Entertaining these views and proposing these ends, the author does not feel regret at the discovery that many of those ideas which had originated with him, and which had, indeed, been almost completely organized into their appropriate system, before be was aware that they had ever been expressed before, or had even heard of the authors, or some of them at least, by Avhom they had been expressed, had, nevertheless, been before distinctly and emphatically announced by eminent thinkers. Instead of feeling regret at this discovery, he is rather rejoiced to find this response of accord from other and eminently superior minds. He might, otherwise, have felt doubt or mistrust as to the correctness of his views, and more especially as to their important significance. But how can such doubt or mistrust exist, when on every side he finds response of accord breaking forth into utterance, when, from many diflferent points, he discovers the human mind, as manifest- ing itself through its greatest thinkers, moving in the same direc- tion, although, as yet, without any due concert of action or organization of purpose. § 5. It has been justly noticed, as remarkable, by one of the multitudinous historians of the world of action,* that all the dif- ferent bodies of the grand army of Napoleon which had left the Niemen, in the ever-memorable Kussian campaign, by different * See Count Philip De Segur's Narrative of the Russian Campaign. Book iy., chap. 7. 72 REASONS FOK CONSIDERING [Chap. IV. routes and at different times, notwithstanding innumerable obsta- cles, after a month of separation, and at tlie distance of a hundi-ed leagues from the point of their departure, aU found themselves con- centrating at the village of Bezenkowiczi, a little to the we^^tward of Ostrowno, on the same day and at the same hour. With so much precision had their march been directed. What an im- pression must such a wonderful concentration of armies have excited in a thoughtful mind ! Could the beholder of such a spectacle fail to be impressed with the conviction that some great move- ment was in progress, and that some great designer was dh-ecting the combined movements of so many different hosts ? Such is the impression that has been made on the writer of these pages by the like spectacle which has been disclosed to his view in the world of thought. When he has contemplated the number of writers, who, without any concert of action, without taking suggestion from him or from one another, are moving in the same direction with himself— concentrating their atten- tion on the same points— emphatically proclaiming the same gi-eat truths, on the promulgation of which he is mainly bent, and which have hitherto remained almost wholly unknown or unnoticed— he has been struck with amazement, if not, indeed, with awe, at the apparent disclosure of the occult forces by which the world of mind, not less than that of matter, is gov- erned and directed. Whence comes this remarkable accord of thought— this simul- taneous concurrence of so many minds in proclaiming the same truth? Does it not disclose a great unseen Designer, who directs the movements of the world of mind, not only as imperi- ously as he directs those of the world of matter, but somewhat more directly and immediately— whose planning and direction are conspicuous here ? Or shall we say that this accord is only the natural result of the established laws of mind, operating under like circumstances, in the same epoch of the world, in the same stage of intellectual development ? It matters not, for the purposes of the present work, which view we may take of this momentous question — whether we adopt the theory of a designed and co/iscioudi/ intelligent direction §5.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 73 of events, or that of a mere functional or organic direction, devoid of design and conscious intelligence — whether, in short, we adopt the Theistic or the Atheistic view of Nature, and her eternal laws. Whichsoever of these two views we may adopt, this wonder- ful accord of minds, from whatever cause resulting, must be re- garded as bearing strong testimony to the truth, as well as to the important significance, of the ideas which they unite in proclaiming, which are, many of them, identically those which the author of this work desires to bring into prominent view, and to make the basis in part of a more enlarged system of thought in regard to the Philosophy of Society. May he not, in view of such concurrence of authority, such accord of thought, without impropriety, entertain increased as- surance of the correctness, as well as importance of his design '? May he not, without the imputation of arrogance, attempt to organize the disconnected forces of this battle-field of science, with which he finds himself unexpectedly allied, and direct their combined movements toward the accomplishment of the end pro- posed by all — THE AMELIORATION OF THE HUMAN CONDITION? May he not, in short, venture to attempt such an organization and discipline of the "grand army" of advancing humanity, as may, at least, secure it adequate provisions and comfortable winter quarters, in the dreary regions it has to traverse, if they do not, indeed, insm'e to it victory, in so far, at least, as victory is possible, in the feeble attempt of man to combat the laavs of HIS natural and inevitable environment? For he would be an unsafe leader, in this arduous campaign of human existence, on this uncongenial planet, who should rely too confidently on victory, least of all, on easy victory. Such a leader would resemble too much the Godwins, the Owens, the Fouriers, and other extravagant and deluded adventurers, who have undertaken to conduct this perilous enterprise. He would be an unsafe director, in tliis realm of science, who does not inculcate, from the beginning, that the expedition of hu- man life in this world must ever be found a Russian expedition, abounding in dilficultics and dangers, having to cleave its way, in 4 74 REASONS FOR CONSIDERING, ETC. a harsh Russian climate, across grim Russian wastes — battling continually with the hostile forces of nature and of man — who does not inculcate that the utmost prudence will be necessary to insure success, and, that there is no hope of success except, more- over, at the price of toil, of hardship, of self-denial, of con- stant vigilance, and hard valiant fighting — who does not, in short, inculcate that it is requisite to success, in this stern enterprise, that every man should possess, within himself, those energies, physical, moral, and intellectual, Avhich can alone qualify him to withstand the fierce elements to which he must be exposed, and to triumph over the antagonistic forces of nature, and opposing man, amid which, and against which, he must ever have to fight his wayr-^ CHAPTEE V. OF THE METHOD AND ORDER TO BE ADOPTED IN CONSmERING THE IDEAa § 1. Coming now to consider the evidences of a tendency towards a higher system of thought in Social Philosophy, we encounter two preliminary questions of method, or order, or rather, the one of method, and the other of order : First, what method shall we adopt for considering these evidences? Shall we consider primarily the ideas, and incidentally only the authors by whom they h#ve been announced, or shall we bestow primary attention on the authors, incidentally only illustrating their ideas ? In other words, shall we adopt the synthetical or analytical mode of treating the subject? Second, what order shall we adopt for considering the authors, if the latter method of treating the sub- ject be adopted, either in whole or in part ? Shall we follow the chronological order of the development of their ideas, or the logical order, or shall we adopt an order conformed to the nationality of the authors, or yet an order differing from all these, either wholly or in part ? These are questions of some importance. Attention to method and order is always important, though generally too much neg- lected. The only difference, indeed, between the scientific treat- ment of a subject and the unscientific — the vulgar, or, so-called, popular mode of treating it — consists in the method and order which prevail in the one, are wanting in the other — in the fact that the facts and ideas of the former are methodically arranged, or system- atized, while those of the latter are loosely and disconnectedly thrown together. Science is but the classification of knowledge, or systemization of thought. If history can ever be reduced to a Science, as many of the most eminent thinkers have been, of late, attempting to render it, it can only be by strict attention to method and order, in the presentation of its facts or events. Whether this can ever be ac- TG METHOD AND OKDER [Chap. V., complislied for the History of the World of Action, or not, the attempt to accomplish it is highly creditable to those master minds by whom it has been made. If such attempt can be made, with any propriety, or prospects of success, in regard to the world of action, Avith much more propriety, with much bet- ter prospects of success, may it be made, as it ought to be made undoubtedly, in regard to the world of thought, the history of which, in part, we are endeavoring here to unfold. If, indeed, the history of the world of action can ever be reduced, even approxi- matively, to the chai-acter of a Science, it can only be by making it a counterpart to that of the world of thought— by subordi- nating facts to ideas — by considering facts, as Cousin recom- mends,* only in so far as they represent ideas. § 2. HoAV then shall we decide upon theseTwo preliminary questions ? Which of these methods, and which of these orders shall we adopt ? Either might be the more correct, according to circumstances. And accoi'dingly, in preceding parts of this work, or of the series to which this particular work appertains, we have adopted the one or the other, or both, either wholly or in part, as appeared more appropriate under all the conditions and surround- ings of the subject to be considered. As to the itust of these two questions, oiv that relating to METHOD — the question whether we shall adopt the synthetical or analyticiil method of treating the subject, whether we shall give tlie main prominence to the ideas or the authors of those ideas- there can be no diiRculty in deciding or defining what course we are to adopt, for we shall adopt both, as there is obvious propriety in doing. So important are the ideas, and so eminently meritori- ous the authors, that they are both deseiTing of primary and par- ticular consideration. AVe shall, therefore, in the first place, particularly consider the ideas claiming attention, and, thereafter, in subsequent chapters, consider more particularly the authors by whom they have been respectively announced. AVe have adopted this course, in other parts of this series, in * See Cotisin's Introduction to History of Philosophy, Lecture VIII., p. 236. i5u.suiii. luUtiou of 1832, as translated I^' Linbcrg. § 2.] OF THIS WORK. 77 respect to ideas of no value and authors of no merit. Much more proper, surely it is, that we should adopt it, in respect to ideas of great value and authors of eminent merit. We have adopted this course in treating anti-Malthusianism, devoting an entire chapter, of many pages, to the exposition of its whole stock in trade of puerile and absurd ideas, and then another entire chap- ter, of still greater bulk, to the more particular consideration of the insignificant writers by whom those ideas have been urged.* This was certainly bestowing a degree of attention on ideas and writers of no intrinsic merit, which might appear wholly un- necessary, if it were not duly considered liow much more difficult it often is to expose the folly of fools, than to demonstrate the wisdom of the wise, and how prominent a part that folly plays in the world of thought as well as of action. The doctrine of Malthusianism itself is, at the best, of but small essential significance, as we have before seen, however val- uable may be, and undoubtedly are, many of the observations and conclusions to which it has incidentally given rise.f But anti-Malthusianism, which controverts the important and indis- putable truths of the Malthusian doctrine, which pitifully at- tempts to dispi'ove the valuable exposition which it has presented of the Laws of Population, is contemptible — is disgraceful to the human understanding. Yet upon this pitiful and contemptible system of thought, or rather of error, of stupidity intolerable, we have, in deference to folly, and the part it undoubtedly plays in the grand drama of human existence, bestowed the double mode of consideration — the synthetical and analytical — holding up to prominent view the whole train of its absurd arguments, and thereafter passing in review the most notorious, or most essentially noteworthy, of its exponents. If we have adopted this course, with any propriety, in regard to these pz^?««es of the world of thought, and their piti- ful ideas, with much more propriety, surely, shall we adopt it in * See Chapters 8 and 9 of Part V. of this Series. t For a full view of these observations and conclusions, see Part V. of this Series, and more particularly the X., or last chapter of that Part. 78 urETiioD AND ORDER Chap, v., regard to those giants of the intellectual world, those colossal intellects, that we are now about to contemplate. § 3. As to the SECONT) of the two questions, or that relating to the ORDER in which the authors, now about to be reviewed, shall be considered, it is not so easy either to decide, or to indicate, what course we are to pursue, as we shall not adopt either of the orders specially indicated, but rather a composite order, partaking some- what of the character of each, but not wholly that of either. "We shall not pursue strictly the chronological order, nor the logical order, nor yet an order AvhoUy conformed to the nation- ality of the different authors, but an order which has some re- spect to each one of these orders. Either of these orders might properly, under some circumstances, be entirely conformed to. But under most circumstances, as in the present, each one of these orders has some merit, some special propriety, which can- not be obtained without sacrificing, to some extent, the other orders. For many purposes the strictly chronological order of History, whether of the world of thought or of action, is the most proper ; for other purposes the strictly logical order Ls preferable ; for others, again, an order comforraed to nationality, or to Race, whicli is but a higher order of nationality. All of these orders will be blended in that which we are to pursue in regard to the authors now about to be reviewed. The chronological order, in the consideration of events, either in the world of thought or of action, ought undoubtedly to be somewhat observed under all circumstances, and strictly con- formed to, wherever overruling considerations do not ordain a different com"se. But we can not safely accept the extravagant assertion of Cousin, that, " In fact, every other order is an in- sult to humanity, a sort of philosopliical impiety."* This assertion may serve very well for a French philosopher, like Mr. Cousui, who hesitates not to bend and cut the facts to * Introduction to History of Philosophy, Lect. XII., pp. 375-C. Boston Ed., 1832. § 3.] OF Tins WORK. 79 suit his theory — shame the superficial idea of Hallam, and his brother Anglo- Saxons in general, in regard to that constitution : " The true Eii/jUsh Constitution is that admirable, unique, and infallible public spirit, beyond all praise, which guides everything, preserves every- thing, saves everything. That which is written is nothing."* After so brilliant a recognition of the great truth that the most fundamental laws of human society are precisely those which are not written, and are not of human design — those which, in other words, appertain to the silent and unseen forces of nature, which arc ever the greatest — it might reasonably be expected that this inilliant thinker would advance onward, to the discovery, that tiiDse laws are as fixed and inevitable as any of the laws of nature, and form a part of those immutable laws. But he does not do so . On the contraiy, we find him, in the spirit of the most con- tracted theologian, referring those laws to the arbitraiy decrees of a personal Deity — thus shutting the door to all fiirther human in- (piiry, altogether too soon, and, instead of attempting "to look ihiough nature up to nature's God," vainly and presumptuously attempting to look through God, in order to discover what nature is — a method which must ever put a stop to scientific advancement and progress in knowledge. How little, alas, is any one human mind permitted to discover ! How little is any one intellect, by the flashes of its own intuitions, however brilliant, able to light up the vast surrounding darkness of the unknown. The second of the three ideas involved in our Sixth main proposition, has been expressed, more or less distinctly, by vari- ous authorities, but by none so emphatically, appreciatively, and forcibly, as by those who have, also, not less emphatically ex- pressed the third of these ideas — Auguste Comte, and Herbert Spencer. AVhatever diiferences may exist between these two transcendent thinkers — differences which the latter, not very creditably to his judgment, has sought unduly to exaggerate — t * Same, p. 37. f See Preface to American edition of his "Illustrations of Universal Progress," Edition of 1865, and his letters therein quoted. 116 THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., in this, as well as in other important respects, they agree, to the great praise of both, in asserting that the laws which govern human society are but more diversified and complex ramifications of the univei-sal laws of nature to be studied in connection -n-ith all other natural laws, and that the science of Sociology rests, for its pedestal and support, on all anterior science. Not so clearly, as yet, has Mr. Spencer expressed himself, to this eifect, as has done Mr. Comte, who no longer lives, to correct, amend, or en- large his observations. But tliis is manifestly the drift and ten- dency of all his reasonings, as we may expect to find more clearly manifested in the writings which he has promised to the world, in the prosecution of his vast scheme of Universal Philosophy. But as both of these great thinkers will presently come under more pai-ticular consideration, in another chapter, it would be supei-fluous to consider their peculiar views more particularly here. § 11. The Seventh, and last of our seven main propositions, although compounded of several more particular ideas, is, never- theless, so homogeneous in all its parts, so manifestly all-adhering and logically inseparable, that it would be of little advantage to sever those more particular ideas from the general form of the more comprehensive truth to which they appertain, as the natural members of one common body. This comprehensive proposition, indeed, cannot properly be regarded as the expres- sion, so mucli of any one mind that has hitherto rendered its thought.", a,s of the general drift, and essential tendency, of many minds, if not indeed of all minds since the world began, uncon- sciously to themselves, as the great waves of human destiny roll onward — sweeping all things, that on them float, to the end which none can resist, none can very clearly foresee. It LS in regard to the great truth, or truths, embodied in this last propo.sition, that the march of mind may be, most appositely compared to the march of the separate divisions of the grand army of Napoleon, in the ever-memorable Russian campaign, to which we liave before had occasion to refer.* How many bold * See Chap. IV., § 5. 11.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 117 and brilliant thinkers have been marching on unconsciously, thiuugh centuries past, to deliver their thoughts, in concentration ii[iuii this little villiige of Beszenkicwiczi, so to speak, in this vast domain of human science, which they have been attempting, hitherto unsuccessfully, to subjugate to their dominion ! llow little do the gi'eatest thinkers often appreciate the full significance of their ovv^n thoughts, and words ! How often may the critical philosopher apply to the significant words of his fel- low-men the exclamation of Othello to lago, in the play, although under very different circumstances from those to which the remark of unhappy delmled Othello had application, " There is i)\L'aning in thy words !" Aye, he might often add, more meaning than thou art perhaps aware of — a meaning, a significance, of which thou dost not dream. How little did many of the greatest thinkers that ever lived, dream— how little did Adam Smith, Sismondi, John Stuart Mill, lUickle, Spencer, Corate, the great orator of Britain, Chatham, tlie great statesmen of America, Jefferson, Calhoun, and many of their illustrious disciples in political creed, imagine — how greatly would they be astonished, at being told, that the essential drift and tendency of their doctrines, and of all real progress in society, is TOWAKDS, TUE EVENTUAL TRIUMPH OF THE INDIVIDUAL OVER SOCIETY ! One transcendent intellect alone, appears as yet, to have towered high enough to look forward to this discovery. One mind alone seems to have been highly enough inspired to make this oracular announcement. One human brain alone seems to have been so touched with the genuine fire of an exalted poetry and philosophy as to be rendered capable of emitting this bril- liant and dazzling light, which throws itself far, very far in advance of all anterior lights. The highly favored prophet, who has been endowed to make this great announcement so far in advance of prevailing ideas as to be utterly incomprehensible, except to a very few, is Henry James, an American thinker of a highly in- spired metaphysical order, and by profession a theologian^ though of the highest and most advanced school of theology — or of Chris- tian theology, at least — the rationalistic Christian. In his collec- 118 THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., tion of rare and valuable essays on Moralism and Chi'istianity, Henry James utte]-s these oracular Avords — "This is the last great triumph of humanity, the signal for the complete inauguration of God's kingdom on earth — the triumph of the individual over society."* This triumph, of course, mankind will never actualize, or fully attain. He who even hopes it is but a philosophical dreamer and star-gazer. But it may be approximated, and with reference to the nearest possible approximation to this gi'and attainment, should all speculations and endeavors in Social Philosophy be shaped. It helps materially, therefore, to furnish us a chart and compass by which we may steer our course, if, indeed, it may not be regarded as the veritable pole of social geography, by which we are to calculate our direction and bearings, in our scientific explorations for human advancement. The mariner does not expect to reach the North Pole. But it is of inestimable value to him, nevertheless, to have a North Pole to steer by, and take his latitude and direction in stormy weather. Nor is it any less true that the brilliant idea in question, although it can never be attained or actualized, may, nevertheless, be of inestimable value, as a kind of intellectual Pole, or Polar Star, by which we may safely take direction, and steer our course, through the imcertain and often troubled sea of human endeavor. It may he worthy of a passing notice, as not a little I'e- markable, that the three ideas, of the many involved in our seven main propositions, which are the most valuable, the most suggestive, and tlio most in advance of commonly received opin- ions, are all the contributions of theologians, or of those who have spoken from the stand-point of theologians. These are the idea of Chalmers, as to the Collective Will of Society, as ex- pressed in our second main proposition ; that of Pe Maistre, as to the most fundamental laws of society, expressed in our sixt/i pro- position, and tiiat of Ileury James, now under consideration, and which may be regarded as the essential rendition, in brief, of our whole seventh proposition. It is true that De Maistre was not * Moralism and Christianity, p. 154. i^ 11.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 119 avowedly, or by profession, a theologian. But he has evidently (lidtight and written as a theologian, in the work from which we have quoted, and the evident aim of that work was to vindicate many of the tenets and bold assumptions of the Romish CMiurch. It is remarkable, too, that, while the author of the present Avork has found it advisable to shape the thoughts, as well as the A\()rds, of all the other authors whom he has undertaken to inter- pret, in order to condense their tlioughts into their most essential expression, these thoughts of these three illustrious authors have not needed any shaping of his, but have rather shaped, controlled, and powerfully modified his own. It is furthermore remarkable, tliat, while the thoughts of all the other authors whom it has liccn attempted here to represent, as particularly noteworthy, have been also the thoughts of the present author himself, and more repetitions, to his mind, for the most part, of ideas previ- oa;^ly entertained and arrived at, through his own spontaneous intuitions, these three grand ideas of these three preeminent tl linkers have alone struck him, as before unknown and unrecog- nized truths — have alone flashed npon his mind, as new and startling revelations, throwing light upon the patliAvay of inquiry, far in advance of the light of his own understanding, and of all anterior thought.* For this great service, which has been ren- dered to his own understanding, as well as to the cause of Science, Avith profound respect and gratification, he here acknowledges his obligations to these illustrious names. Nor is it, perhaps, any less remarkable, or worthy of note, that those tlu-ec preeminent thinkers have represented, respectively, tlie lliree different schools of Christian theology, as, indeed, of all tiicology — which, in its applications to every religion, naturally divides itself, like everything else, into three main parts, which * From this remark, it is perhaps due to the author to except the idea of Do Maistre. For that is essentially one of his own most fundamental ideas, revealed to his view unaided by the suggestions of any other mind — the idea as to tho fixity and necessity of the laws of mind, not less than matter. But the particu- lar expression which De Maistre has given to the general idea, has been to his thought eminently suggestive. 120 THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., ai'e substantially the same in all religions — namely, the Papistical or formalistic, the Puritanical or doctrinalistic, and the truly Orthodox, or rationalistic and practical — De Maistre, of course, representing the iirst, Chalmers the second, and Henry James the third of those schools. Should not these notable facts tend, in some degree, to rescue THEOLOGIANS from the philosophical, or rather, unphilosophical contempt, which too many philosophers of late have been disposed to throw upon theology, and theologians ? Or shall we, in re- spect to these three great ones, paraphrase the famous language of Pyrrhus, concerning the Romans, "These barbarians are by no means barbarous," and say that these theologians are by no means theological ? But no such subterfuge can rescue this class of philosophers from the merited criticism to which they render themselves liable, although, prominent among the class, stand such illustrious names as Comte and Buckle — a fact by no mcjins creditable to their sagacity, preeminent as it has proved itself in many important respects. Philosophers of this class, it appears — nay, Comte has openly avowed it — would ignore Theology altogether, would ignore all idea as to God, or the great primary and fundamental calse, from which all other causes spring. Would they, indeed? And pray, what sort of Philosophy would that be, which should have no Theological system to stand upon — neither theistical, atheis- tical, nor pantheistical ? But enough of this digi'ession. § 12. That the gi'and utterance of Henry James, here brought into prominent view, is truly expressive of the essential tenden- cies of the highest Civilization, and the highest Thought, will be readily apparent to the higher order of thinkers, who will dwell, but for a few moments, upon the idea. Much more apparent will it become to such, on a more thorough consideration. It must be apparent, to a veiy little reflection, that this is the essential significance of many of the most extensively received popular ideas, and most universally admired popular sentiments, that have currency among the most advanced races and nations of mankind. § 12.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 121 Consider, for example, the latest and most advanced popular idea, now universally accepted, professedly at least, among the American division of the great Anglican or Anglo-Saxon family, lliat " every man is a sovereign." "What is this, but a general, if not universal, popular recognition of the great truth in question, which, if stated, in its true import and full significance, in a ;-cientific point of view, men start back from, and disclaim ? So true it is, as we have repeatedly before had occasion to remark, tliat mankind are constantly in the habit of receiving and assert- ing truths, the fuU import and essential significance of which they do not comprehend, and cannot, without great difficult)^, be made to comprehend. What is this docti'ine, howevei', but an implied avowal of the essential tendency toward the triumph of the individual over so- ciety 1 Nay, may it not be regarded as an avowal that the indi- vidual has already triumphed over society — to a certain extent, in legal contemplation, and in the eye of essential justice and fundamental right ? If the INDIVIDUAL is the true sovereign, then evidently the society or its legal representative, the state, or collective authority of the society, is the true subject, whose proper function or business is to see that every one of the many individual sovereigns, who have concurred in appointing it, is not, in any respect, molested or disturbed in his sovereignty — in order to insure which end alone, most essentially considered, the true subject, or state, has any right to interfere with the sovereignty of any one individual. Tiie state has no right to interfere with the sovereignty of any individ- ual, except in so far as may be necessary to vindicate the co- equal and independent sovereignty of other individuals. In other words, every man has the right to do just what he pleases, pro- vided he do not interfere with the rights of other men, and will ])ay his fair proportion of the taxes necessary to maintain that collective force of the society, which may be necessary, to pro- tect individual sovereignty from outrage, violence, or wrong of any kind. This is the law, as it is even now received, throughout the mighty domain of Anglo-Saxondom — shamefully as it has been 6 122 THE MORE ADYANXED IDEAS. [Cliap. VI., violated of late in America, as we have seen in the audacious and heretofore unparalleled assumption of power by the state or gov- ernment, to compel individual sovereigns to commit murder and other flagrant crimes, against their will, in the prosecution of ag- gressive war, against their fellow-men of coterminous states.* It is veiy manifest that the doctrine of the inviolability of the person of every man, universally received in Britain, as well as America, is but another manifestation of the same ten- dency. The so-much extolled writ of Habeas Corpus, for vindi- cating the sacred right of personal security, with all that has been said in its eulogy, is but a recognition, in logical embryo, of the tendency toward the eventual triumph of the individual over society. So is, evidently, the idea that " every man's house is his castle," which has long ago passed into an Anglo-Saxon proverb. And who is so obtuse as not to read the same assertion in the immortal words of Lord Chatham — "The poorest man in his cottage may bid defiance to all the forces of the crown. It may be frail ; its roof may shake : the wind may blow through jt ; the storm may enter ; the rain may enter ; but the King of England cannot enter. All his power dares not cross the threshold of that ruined tenement." The late great war in America, the teal nature of which is so little understood by the superficialists to whom its consideration has been hitherto mainly consigned on both sides of the Atlantic, * This assumption of power is almost unparalleled in Anglo-Saxondom, though not, of course, in despotic Russia, Austria, or France, nor among the ancient semi-barbarous nations, mis-called civilized. It is to be remembered that the British government has never dared to assert the 'fright to compel her fiovereign citizens, or subjects, as they are miscalled, to enlist for foreign wars, except in the now exploded method of " impressment." It is to be remembered, also, that the Coastitution of the United States, impliedly, if not expressly, de- nies the right of the general goveniment to employ the militia of the several states, except "to repel invasion." Or rather it expressly delegates the right to use them only for thia purpose. And all "powers not expressly delegated are reserved to the states respectively, or the people." It was a great oversight, however, in the framers of the Constitution not to provide that the militia of no state sliall be compelled to march into another state, except on the request of the regularly constituted authorities of that state. Such a provision was necessary to assert distinctly the true Anglo-Saxon idea of liberty. § 12.] TUB MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 123 most essentially considered, was a great practical manifestation, lliough, thusfar, and to the outer view, unsuccessful, of the same ten- dency. It was by far the most decided and emphatic movement in tliat direction on any large scale that has ever occurred in human history. This is its most marked characteristic feature, to the philosophical and truly discerning' mind, though not its only marked feature. Taken altogether, that war affords, beyond all doubt, the most remarkable, the most instructive and suggestive chapter of equal length, in human history. Never before in the known history of the world were men fighting at cross purposes, on so large a scale. Never before were the upper and under currents of human aiFairs running in opposite directions with so great inten- sity and force. Never before were the apparent and real condition of things so widely different. Avowedly, and apparently too, to a certain extent, fighting for liberty, the successful party were in reality inflicting a most disastrous blow on that divine principle, u blow calculated indeed to be fatal, but not likely to prove so — because inflicted on a race that does not easily die, and does not readily part with its liberty, while it lives. Avowedly, to some extent, and not less apparently, fighting for slavery, the other and unsuccessful party were in reality fighting for liberty, and tluit, too, in the most marked, emphatic, and distinctly defined manner, that liberty has ever been contended for on so large a scale. The first great revolutionary war in America, niost essentially < iisidered, was an assertion of the idea that sovereignty does not reside in the government, or concentrated collective force of the -uciety, but in the society itself, or the people composing it. The -eeond or last war, most essentially considered, was an assertion, jv attempted assertion, thus far unsuccessful, of the more im- )oi-tant idea, which it is much more difficult to vindicate, or ren- ler theoretically or scientifically intelligible, even to those who lave long ago practically accepted it, and adopted it into their I'uramon proverbs — the idea that sovereignty does not reside in a iAKE MAJORITY of the society or people,' as vulgarly imagined, lOUt in at least something more than a bare majority, in something 124 THE MORE ADVAXCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., approximating a unjSJsIiiitt, if not alone in a uNANiinTT of the society, or, in otlier words, in tlie ■\vbole society, and in each in- dividual member of it. This was not, of course, the avowed significance or object of the war on the part of those who in reality represented this idea in the contest. Nor was its real significance thus understood gen- erally, if indeed by any who participated in it. How seldom do men understand the real significance of their own acts or words ! It requires the very highest effort of Philosophy to do that. The real significance of men's acts is nearly always far, very far, in advance of their existing ideas, or capabilities of comprehension. It should, however, be highly gratifying to the philosophic mind, to know how much of the real significance of this war was comprehended by many of those noble spirits who covered them- selves and the human race with immortal gloiy by their heroic efforts to vindicate the principle for which they fought. Tiiey did not know, indeed, that they were fighting to vindicate the great idea that sovereignty resides in the estjividual, and to ad- vance mankind toward the ultimate triumph of the iNDmcuAL over society. But they knew that they were fighting to vindicate the rights of bonorities, as guaranteed by State Sovereignties — to vindicate the idea that minorities have their rights as well as majorities — that the rights of the few are as sacred and inviola- ble as the rights of the many — that the iveak should be respected as well as the strong. This was a great and noble advance to- ward the ultimate and most radical idea toward which all true human progress is tending. This idea of state sovereignty, most essentially considered — this idea that a considerable minority of any entire political w- ganism, having of itself an integral political existence, like llu separate states of the American confederacy, has the right tcl arrest the action of the larger organism of which it forms a com ponent part, so far as that action may apply to itself, despite itf liability to great abuse, like everything else, it will readily be dis- cerned by the true Social I'hilosopher, lias a very important ten- dency in the right direction. It tends to block the wheels of gov- ernment, which have a constant tendency to run when they hav( § 12.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 125 no business. It tends to tie up the hands of legislation, which are constantly busying theiBselves with matters that woukl much Ix'lter be let alone. It tends to the denial of all government by tlu' collective force or political authority of society, which all ex- Itcrience has demonstrated to be but a " necessary evil," of which the more we can dispense with the better. It tends to transfer the motive principle of government from the public or collective force of society to the individual. It tends, in short, towards " the eventual triumph of the individual over society." This tendency, however, does not appear to have been dis- cerned even by the illustrious Statesman, who has been the most prominent apostle of this idea of State Sovereignty, the late John Caldwell Cidhoun. Still less has it been discerned by his disci- ples. By him and them it has been too much regarded as a mere question of pure constitutional right, of dry abstract constitu- tional law. It should, much more prominently, have been re- garded as a question of policy, of practical expediency, of funda- mental propriety and right. Instead of disputing with their superficial opponents upon the question whether the idea exists in the Federal constitution, as they have mainly done, they should rather have demonstrated that it ought to be there, if it is not, and that a revolution ought to be attempted, even at the cannon's mouth, if necessary, in order to put it there. They should rather Iiave demonstrated that the idea exists in the constitution of Na- ture and ought to exist in the Constitution of the United States. The principle of State Sovereignty in American politics, is to the rights of minorities what the writ of Habeas Corpus is to individual rights. It is the great bulwark of liberty. It is the great breakwater to despotism. It is the only bulwark, the only "hreakwater, that can prevent American liberty, under the great Confederacy now existing, from being, . within a comparatively ::hort time, swallowed up in a vast consolidated despotism, A critical analysis wiU not less clearly show that the essential tendency of many of the most eminent formal disquisitions on government and society, that have ever been written, is also in ihc direction indicated by the bold aphorism of Henry James 126 TUE MORE ADTAXCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI. , under consiJeration. Such is evidently the tendency of Rousseau's Social Contract, and of Calhoun's masterly disquisition on Gov- ernment. They both tend to the denial of all government that is not approved by something more than bare majorities, as b>j concurring majorities, or the like, which tends to secure some- thing like unanimity of consent to all binding political action, the further tendency of Avhich, it should be manifest, is towards the vindication of individual sovereignty, inasmuch as it tends to tie up the hands of government except as to those acts to which every individual gives his consent. Such is also the tendency of the work of Henry James on " Demoei8fcy and its Issues," one of the most valuable contribu- tions to Social Philosophy, in its purely political bearings, that has appeared in the English language. Such, too, is the. tendency of INIill's recent work on Liberty, of Buckle's social philosophy, as developed in his great work on the History of Civilization, and not less, also, of the whole philosophy of Herbert Spencer, so far as it has been as yet developed, in respect to its bearings on the Philosophy of Society. Nowhere, indeed, has the ultimate ten- dency of the highest civilization, in respect to the relations be- tween the individual and society, been better expressed than it has been by the last-named author, in his work on " The First Principles of a Ncav System of Philosophy." In the sixteenth chapter of this work, the chapter on Equili- bration, Mr. Spencer thus expresses himself on this head: "The conflicts between Conservatism, which stands for the restraints of society over the individual, and Reform, which stands for the liberty of the individual against society, fall within slowly ap- proximating limits ; so that the temporary predominance of either produces a less marked deviation from the medium state. This process, now so fiir advanced among ourselves that the oscillations are comparatively unobtrusive, must go on till the balance be- tween the antagonist forces approaches indefinitely near perfection. For, as we liave already seen, the adaptation of man's nature to the conditions of his existence cannot cease, until the internal forces which we know as feelings are in equilibrium with the external forces they encounter. And the establishment of § 12.] THE MOKE ADVANCED IDEAS. 127 tins equilibrium is the arrival at a state of human nature and social organization, such that the individual has no desires but 1 liose which may be satisfied without exceeding his proper splicre of action, while society maintains no restraints but those wliich the individual voluntarily respects. The progressive exten- sion of the liberty of citizens, and reciprocal removal of political restrictions, are the steps by which we advance towards this state. And the ultimate abolition of all limits to the freedom of each, save those imposed by the like freedom of all, must result from the complete equilibration between man's desires and the conduct necessitated by surrounding circumstances."* It will readily be perceived, by the critically discerning mind, that in the foregoing passage Herbert Spencer has expressed sub- slantially the idea of Henry James vmder consideration. But he has expressed it with more critical accuracy, with its proper quali- iications or limitations, and therefore with less striking senten- tiousness and epigram matical piquancy. The expression which Henry James has given to the idea is that of the highly inspired ]H)etical philosopher. The expression of Herbert Spencer is that of the calm unimpassioned critical philosopher. It will readily be perceived, from the discriminating and ad mirably just expression which the latter author has given to the idea, that " the triumph of the individual over society," as the highly wrought inspiration of Henry James has so strikingly ex- pressed it, does not consist, as to superficial readers might appear, in the unbridled license of the individual to do whatever he may please, regardless of the rights of society, or other individuals, but ill that happy harmonizing of his desires with the rights of all cither men which dispenses with the necessity of restraints, or co- . reive measures, on the part of society. That the essential tendency of the highest civilization, or, in other woitls, of the most complete development of man's nature, is in this direction, no profound and' justly discerning thinker can fail to see. Whether such a condition can ever be attained, in * See Spencer's First Principles of a New System of Philosophy, Ch. XVI., pp, 470, 471. New York Edition, 18G5. 128 THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., other words, whether man can ever become so highly civilized, or his natm'e can ever become so completely and generally developed, is very much to be doubted, nay, we should rather say, is hardly to be hoped. But, even if this condition should ever be attained, and however nearly it may ever be approximated, it is to be distinctly understood that man, as a member of human society, in which society alone he can ever attain his proper development, must ever be, to some extent, and to a large extent, under the influence of the society to which he is attached, under the powerfully reactive influence of the whole upon its parts, and that from this influence he can never be emancipated, either in point of fact, or in reference to a due regai-d for his welfare and the essential laws of his being. Human society, like the society of the planets, must ever be, not only in the aggregate, but in all its parts, under the dominion of two great and constantly active forces, the one cextkipetal, and the other cextru^lgae, the one conservative of order, the other of ijbekty, the one tending to cOManiNisM, and the complete merger of the individual in the society, the other to individualism, and the complete triumph of the individual over society. It is in the happy equipoise, or, as Herbert Spencer has expressed it, '• equilibration," between these two forces or principles alone that a harmonious state of human society can ever be realized. Neither of these forces can ever be abrogated. Among rude, imperfectly developed, or but partially civilized men, the centripetal or central force of society must be powerfully exerted. Among highly de- veloped, highly civilized men, the exertion of this force may be to a great extent dispensed witli. It is remotely possible that conditions of society might exist, among the most superior races of mankind, on a somewhat con- siderable scale, in which this central force of society, or its out- ward manifestation, might be dispensed with altogether; as we see illustrated, on a small scale, and for short periods, at the din- ner-table of gentlemen, which alfords us a practical illustration, on a small scale, of the triumph of the individual oter society. In the capability of dispensing with this central force of society alto- ;; 13.] THE MORE ADVANCED IDEAS. 129 ■.lotlier would manifestly consist the triumph of the individual over society. But this triumph does not consist in the abrogation of the in- ihience of society on the individual, of the whole on its parts, but in the absorption of that influence into the individual. It consists in that development and expansion of the individual which enables him to wield and to direct both the momentum of his own proper individuality and that of the society, and so accurately to describe t!ie orbit of his own personality, as not to interfere with those of other personalities — which enable him to comprehend, within him- self, and to control both of the two great antagonistic or counter- balancing forces which pervade all organic existences, and to be- come a sort of living universe within himself. It consists, in short, in tliat high development of man which exalts him, in some degree, to the character of a God. Quite evidently there is not much ground for hope that such de- velopment of man will ever become very general or extensively prevalent. Nevertheless, it is in this direction that we must look for indication of the real tendencies of the highest human develop- ment and attainment. God can only be, to the apprehension of mankind, the highest type of man. Of this truth, indeed, we find at once both recognition and happy illustration in the charac- ter we have been, perhaps wisely, taught to attribute to the most august and beneficent of all human reformers, noi whom we have been taught to regard as the incarnate manifestation of both God and man — the God-man. § 13. Thus have we completed, though imperfectly, a work of great labor and responsibility, that of condensing, into a few words, the essential significance of the latest, the largest and most developed thought of the human understanding, in regard to the Philosophy of Society. Thus have we condensed, into a single chapter, the essential significance of many volumes. In the chapters that are to follow we shall but find the ideas of this chapter more particularly developed, as they have been ex- hibited to view by the various writers whom it is proposed more particularly to consider. On most points we shall find the ideas 6* 130 THE MOKE ADVANCED IDEAS. [Chap. VI., announced in this chapter somewhat enlarged, and brought more distinctly into view, as more particular views have a natural ten- dency to do. On others, perhaps, we shall find that the announce- ments of this chapter are somewhat larger, more distinct and more emphatic, than is fully justified by the actual announce- ments of any other authority, that we shall therein consider, or may be able to cite. On some points, doubtlessly, the essential significance of the most developed thought has been represented, in the present chapter, as somewhat larger than is actually warranted by any anterior thought, that has, at least, rendered itself audible. But all that has been herein laid down is, so manifestly, the true and proxi- mate logical sequence of what has been actually expressed by an- terior thinkers, that the author may be excused — even while play- ing the part of the mere critical historian of the world of thought — for thus anticipating, somewhat, the actual manifestations of the human understanding. In former parts of the main work to which this appertains, in l^c third, fourth, and fifth parts, which treat respectively of the Political, Politico-Economical, and Malthusian systems of thought, all, of essential significance or value, that has been contributed to the Philosophy of Society, by those three schools of thought, has been amply considered. In the present work, all the later, and more advanced thought, whether anterior or posterior in mere chronological order, in its most essential rendition, is now oifered to the world. When the three other works, which have not as yet been published in the book form, nor otherwise than in dis- jointed fragments, shall have been formally published — if this should ever be rendered possible — the whole combined result of all anterior thought and research, in the Philosophy of Society, will be laid before the view of the scientific world. They will then be a])le to judge, more clearly and distinctly, what has been done and what remains to be done, in order to reduce this vast department of general knowledge into order and proper system. 'J'hcy will then be able the better to appreciate tlie more particu- hir contribuiions Avhich the author of the present work proposes to make, and which, he ventures to hope, will harmonize and S 13.] THE MOUE ADVANCED IDEAS. 131 systematize all anterior thought of essential value, and leave the Philosophy of Society, for all practical purposes, somewhat in the condition in which the labors of Newton left Siderial Miilosophy. CHAPTEE YII. A BRIEF RETROSPECT INTO THE WISDOM OF ANTIQUirT— AS MANIFESTED EST CON- FUCIUS AND SOLON. § 1. It has been well, said, by Rosseau, that, " the body poli- tic as well as the physical, begins to die at the moment of its birth, and bears in itself the cause of its destruction."* Nor is this observation any less true of systems of thought, than of corporeal systems. Of this truth we find striking illustration in the history of the Political system of thought in Social Pliilosophy, which, though it still lives and maintains its pernicious hold on the human un- derstanding, may be clearly ascertained to have begun to die more than two thousand years ago, and at the very moment it first as- sumed a well-defined shape, and may be said to have begun vigor- ously to live, both among the Mongolian and Caucasian branches of .the human family. The germs of its death, or, as we should rather say, the germs of a higher life, involving its death, may be distinctly discovered in the masterly brains of two of the gi-eatest lawgivers that the world ever saw — Confucius and Solon. These great ones may be said to have given the first weU-defined organic development to the Political system of thought in Social Philoso- phy among their respective races. Yet, at the same time, we may discover, from the very fundamental ideas of the one, and from one of the profound general remarks of the other, which has been transmitted to our times, that they both had the sagacity to pei'ceive, in some degree, at least, how superficial and imperfect was that system of thought — how vain was the attempt to con- trol the destinies of human society by the mere political authority of states, and that, in short, it is rather the man that forms and gives character to the state, than the state that forms or gives character to the man. * Social Compact, Book III., Ch. XL CONFUCIUS AND SOLON. 133 § 2. Of the Four Books -which constitute the main body of Chinese classics, a part of the first only is actually ascribed to Confucius, although nearly the whole of those four books is com- monly regarded as the result of his teachings, as the embodiment of his ideas, subsequently written out by some of his disciples, as were the teachings of Socrates and Christ. " It is the business of the first of Ihe four books," says Mr. Davis, in his valuable History of China, " to inculcate, that from the knowledge and government of one's self must proceed the proper economy and government of a family, and from the government of a family that of a province and of a kingdom."* It may readily be perceived that this fundamental idea of Con- fucius is the germ of a higher system of Social Philosophy, than that false and puerile one which regards the government of a state as the cause of the condition of its people, and in accordance with which we so often witness pernicious attempts to subvert the existing governments of the world in the vain hope of thereby improving the condition of the people. Nay, it is very manifest that it is the germ of the veiy opposite system, of the system which asserts that it is the people who are the cause of the con- dition and character of their government, and that it is vain and futile to attempt to change the mere government of a people, un- less you can first, or at the same time, change the character of the people. How does this wise and profoundly just idea of this ancient sage, so little known or considered among European nations, put to shame the school-boy philosophy of those pestiferous agitators of modern society who are constantly distracting the nations of Europe with their pitiful endeavors to reform society by merely changing the form of its government, and the nations of America by their not less pitiful attempts to make white men out of ne- groes, Caucasians out of Ethiopians, by merely changing their legal status in society, their mere political conditions. This highly valuable idea of Confucius has also this great merit, which so few reasonings on the philosophy of society pos- * Davis's History of China, Chap. IV. See, also, Martin's Chma, on same point. 131 coxFL'cius AND soLox. [Chap. VII., ses?, tliat it directs attention directly to the individual. It is here, as we .shall hereafter more clearly sec, that the key to the solution of nearly all the great problems of Social Philosophy is to be found. As the microscope reveals to us far more valuable and essential knowledge than the telescope, and as it is in the in- finitesimal, after all, that we must look for comprehension of the infinite, so it is, much more indisputably, true, that it is in the INDIVIDUAL that we must look for clear understanding of the phenomena of society, or reliable calculation of its destiny. The great obstacle to the progress of knowledge in Social Philosophy, hitherto, has been that vague genei-alities alone, or, for the most part, have been dealt in, instead of coming down to the particu- lar, simple, and familiar illustrations afforded by the considera- tion of the individual. If social philosophers had taken instruc- tion more from this first great teacher in Sociology, they would not have persisted in this unwi.=e course. They have been alto- gether too lofty in their speculations. Had they condescended to an humbler and simpler view of the great problems of society, they would have been much more likely to find their solution. Confucius has afforded the key to the solution of the whole busi- ncs.5, in the simple yet grand idea under consideration. If you would truly and effectually control the destinies of human society, he virtually tells you, look well to the individuals composing it. Would you improve society, improve the individual man. Can you not improve the man % Then you cannot improve the society. This is point number one, in the Philosophy of Society. It may be I'egarded also as point number two, and a great many more besides. Nay, the Alpha and Omega of the whole busine.-s is pretty nearly all comprised in this simple formula, deducible from this simple yet grand doctrine, inculcated more than two thousand years ago, yet how little heeded, especially by nations who con- sider thera.selves the wisest under the sun. As the well-read comparative anatomist is able, from a single bone or two of the- extinct mastodon, to reconstruct the entire skeleton, so the well-read and thorough Sociologist might, from the single idea of Confucius, construct, what, however, has never yet been constructed, the outlines of the entire Philosophy of Society. tj 3.j CONFUCIUS AND SOLON.' ' 135 llcraarkable it is that so great should be the significance of the doctrine of one of the very earliest teachers in Social Philosophy. Not very favorable is the fact to Comte's favorite and greatly overwrought idea of the steadily advancing progress of the human mind. Nor is it unworthy of note that Confucius, who treated exten- sively of both morals and politics, made morals the basis of poli- tics, in which he approved himself a far more profound Sociolo- gist than the over-estimated Aristotle, who, like a great many others of less note, preposterously made politics the basis of morals, as if men were to be legislated into virtue. It is veiy evi- dent that this subordination of politics to ethics is entjply in har- mony vrtth the idea already attributed to Confucius, though not directly asserted by him, that it is the man that jiakes the GOA'^RNMENT, NOT THE GOVERNMENT THAT MAKES THE MAN* an idea which, despite the boasted wisdom of the present age, mankind in general have not yet come to understand, nay, not even many of the self-esteemed most enlightened of mankind."}" § 3. Not less conspicuously in the mind of Solon, than in that of Confucius, may be detected the germ of death to the Political sj stem of Social Philosophy ; or, perhaps we should ratlier say, the germ of life to a higher system, destined eventually to root out and supplant that superficial, false, and pernicious system. It is clearly revealed in the famous remark of that great lawgiver, in reply to the question whether he had given the Athenians the best possible system of laws — " The best of which they are capable." How full of significance is this pregnant remark of the Grecian sage ! How does it, like that of the great Chinese sage, just now considered, put to shame much of the folly of the present age — that folly which is so constantly manifesting itself in vain, futile, * See pages 133-134 of this Chapter. f For a more thorough criticism of the views of the great Chinese sage, seo Chapter First, Part Second, of the mainAvork to which this appertains, in which the contribution of the Mongolian mind in general to the Philosophy of Societ}' is particularly coEsidered. 13G CONFUCIUS AND SOLON. [Chap. YII., and pernicious endeavors to give to all men tlie same kind of government, the same kind of laws. In this pregnant remark of Solon we fmd clear recognition of the important truth, that laws and governments must have reference to t!ie capacity of the people, for whom they are intended, to receive them, to use without abusing them — of the truth that all men are not fitted for the best possible laws, or system of government — that, in short, and most essentially expressed, it is the man that must determine the character of his government, rather than the govern- ment that mu?t or can determine the character of the man. Other sages of Greece have also recognized this important truth, as we find illustrated in the remark of Aristotle, in his elaborate though di.-jointed treatise on Politics, " Every legislator ought td estab- lish such a form of government as, from the present state and disposition of the people who are to receive it, they will most readily submit to and persuade the community to partake of."* But by none has the idea been at once so tersely, briefly, and pointedly expressed, or in such immediate reference to its practi- cal applications, as by Solon, in the remark here cited. For how many grave questions that have divided opinion, and convulsed society in modern times, for how many that still divide opinion and threaten to convulse society, does this vdse remark of Solon furnish a just response ! If this great lawgiver of antiquity liad arisen from the dead, and were consulted upon any one of many such questions, it is hardly to be doubted, by any sound and intelligent thinker, that he would make substantially, if not identi- cally, the same response that he is reported to have made concern- ing the laws of the Athenians. If Solon were asked, for example, whether the present govern- ment of France, which so many crack-brained republicans, as they style themselves, are seeking to undermine and subvert, is the best government for the 1 rench people, he would doubtlessly reply — " the best of which they are capable." If he were asked whether * Aristotle's Politics, as translated by Walford, Book IV., Ch. I. For a more particular notice of the views of ^Vristotle, and other Grecian sages, seeChapter II. of Tart II. of this series, or the Chapter on Grecian Sociology. § ].] CONFUCIUS AND SOLON. 137 the preseut constitution of England, which so many superficial reasoners are seeking to change, at least to the extent of rendering the right of suffrage universal, regardlessly of the existing con- dition of a large part of the population — is really the best possibleo tiovernment for the English people, he would undoubtedly reply — '• the best of which they are capable." If he were asked whether the existing status of the negro in American society, which has always been, ever since American society began, in some form or other, one o^ subordination io the white man, but which distempered ignorance has been disastrously attempting, of late, to revolu- tionize, is really a just or right condition — is, in other words, the best possible condition for the negro, as well as for all others con- cerned, if he should respond worthily of the Solon of antiquity, he would, beyond all doubt, reply — " the best of which they are capable." § 4. It may be objected to the remark of Solon under considera- tion, as here interpreted, that it discourages if it does not positively condemn all effort, by the intentional agency of man, to modify or improve his condition, or that of his fellow-man — that it -pro- poses to leave all human affliirs to the natural drifting of events, to the involuntary action of nature, so to speak, and, in the largest and most philosophical sense, most correctly to speak, rather than attempt to control them by the action of man, or the voluntanj action of nature, as manifested in the intentional and rational ef- forts of man. Undoubtedly the rfeiark, as here interpreted, is liable to this criticism, to some extent, and to a very gi'eat extent. Ikit it is not unqualifiedly liable to the criticism. The interpretation here given of this celebrated remark of Solon, and the right interpretation, does indeed disparage, and hold in light esteem, the efforts of man to modify the fundamental laws of society, or the laws of nature as manifested in human society, but it does not assert that they can be of no avail what- ever. The remark and the interpretation will alike stand the test of any criticism which they may provoke. They are simply expressive of a truth, that v/ill become more manifest the more it is controverted, a truth none the less important because it is so little recognized or understood. 138 CONFUCIUS A\L> SOLON. [Chap. VII., It is truth, which no flippant sophistry nor intolerable stupid- ity need attempt to assail, that all the efforts of man are insig- nificant, when opposed to the natural current of events, the inevitable drift of destiny. It is a truth, that as all that man can ever know is as nothing, compared with what he cannot know, so all that he can ever do is as nothing compared with what he cannot do. It is a truth, that it is but very little that man can do, at the best, by his own concerted and voluntary action, and that that little can only be done by attempting to aid or shape the course of nature, not by vainly and presumptuously attempt- ing to oppose it. It is true, and so the philosophy, which finds a partial expres- sion in the remark of Solon under consideration, inculcates, tiiat man, by his voluntaiy and intentional activity, can do but little, if anything at all, except by co-operating with the natural course of events — that his efforts are only of any real avail, when they conform themselves to the laws of nature, whether as mani- fested in external nature, or in man himself. The remark of Solon, rightly interpreted, does not inculcate the idea, that the efforts of man are totally insignificant, or incapable of avail, but only that they are totally insignificant and unavail- ing when they oppose themselves to the inevitable laws or facts of nature. It teaches, indeed, that when man attempts to dam up Niagara, or tm*n back the Mississippi in its onward course to tlie main, his efforts are totajh^ vain and futile. But it does not deny that they may be of son e avail in turning the waters of those mighty rivers to some account, or even in giving some new direction to their courses, to a very limited extent. It does not deny that his efforts may be of some avail when they merely at- tempt to raise levees against the inundations of the Mississippi, or to give some new direction, here and there, to its resistless current. This philosophy teache.«, indeed, that when human ingenuity attempts to convert an ass or a zebra into a horse, or a Negro or Mongol into a Caucasian, its efforts are futile, and ridiculously absurd. Hut it does not teach that all efforts to improve the equine genus, according to their respective species or varieties — §4.] CONFUCIUS AND SOLON. 139 whether horse, donkey, zebra, or quagga, which List appears to be but a modification of the zebra — are futile or unavailing-. Neither does it teach that all efforts to improve the human genus, according to their respective species or varieties, are futile or un- unavailing — whether those efforts be applied to the Caucasian, the Negro, the Mongol, or the Indian, particularly so called, who is evidently but a modification of the Mongol, and related to him as the quagga to the zebra, or vice vci'sa, rather, as the zebra to the quagga. For the Indian, as he is commonly called, in America, is evidently the true zebra of the human genus, wild and untamable. The remark of Solon under review, and the philosophy which finds partial expression in this profound remark, condemns the folly of attempting to cut the foot to fit the shoe, like the stupid Chinaman, or, in other woi'ds, to shape the man to suit the LAW, and recommends that we should rlather strive to cut the SHOE to fit the foot, or frame the law to suit the man. It inculcates that the foot of humanity has been shaped by the unerring hand of Nature, while the shoe of human invention, whether political or purely mechanical, has been shaped by the erring hand of man, who is at best but a second rate me- chanic. The philosophy in question, condemns, moreover, the school- boy folly of attempting to pluck the fruit before it is ripe — a folly of which so many juveniles in Social Philosophy are habitu- ally guilty. It recommends, on the other hand, that man should rather wait until, in the natural course of events, the fruit has ripened, or at least is on the eve of ripening, and that he should then step forwai-d, and gently assist the work of nature, or very slightly anticipate the natural course of events. It incul- cates that this much at least may be done by the voluntaiy and intentional agency of man, and perhaps some little more. CHAPTER VIII. A. CRITICAL REVIEW OF GUIZOT AXD HALLAM. § 1. The transit of more than two thousand years, wliich we make in passing from the highest thought of antiquity in regard to the Philosophy of Society, as manifested in Confucius and Solon, to the highest thought of the modern age, reveals mani- festation of some advance unquestionably in human ideas, but not of so rnuch advance as might reasonably have been anticipated. Very slight manifestations, indeed, of any such advance, in re- spect, at least, to essential or fundamental ideas, shall we be able to detect in the two illustrious savans who are to be particularly considered in the present chapter — Guizot and Hallam. As general disquisitions on Society, as expositions of the plii- losophy of histor}', in so far as exhibited in those portions of human society and history to which they relate, the History of Civilization in Europe, though more particularly in France, by Francis Pierre WilHam Guizot, and the History of the Middle Ages, by Henry Hallam, are undoubtedly deserving of a very high rank among the efforts of the human intellect. They far exceed any production of the kind that antiquity has transmitted to our times, not excepting the work of Aristotle on Pohtics, nor the far greater work of Polybius on General History. The great merit of these valuable works of Guizot and Hallam consists, mainly, indeed, in their method of dealing with history — in their distinguished advance towards what history should really be — in their subordination of facts to principles, of events to the ideas which they represent — in theu' tendency to portray the world of THOUGHT rather than that of actiox, to Avhich last- named superficial and vulgar view of human history, attention has been hitherto almost exclusively directed. Their great merit, in short, mainly consists in the fact that they are essentially, and to a very grejit extent, illustrations of the Piiilosophy of History, GUIZOT AND HALLAM. 141 without, however, claiming to be such — in the fact that they are really more successful efforts of this kind than many of tliose that have been avowedly and expressly shaped with reference to this idea — that they are really far more practical, and, upon the whole, more valuable contributions to the Philosophy of History, than the undoubtedly more profound works of Cousin, among the French, or Brucker, Tidemanu or Tennemann among the Ger- mans. In this respect they indicate a very decided advance of the human mind, and mark an epoch in human history, although, in point of happy and brilliant execution, their works very far fall short of the more recent and transcendent effort of Buckle, to be hereafter more particularly noticed. It is by reason of the marked resemblance, in these respects, be- tween the works of Guizot and Hallam, of the essential similarity in their methods of dealing with human history, as well as of the avowed similarity of their subjects of discussion, that they are here associated for consideration in the same chapter. § 2. Much, however, as we must extol these excellent works of Guizot and Hallam, in respect to their method of dealing with human history, in respect to the kind of facts, as well as ideas, to which they give main prominence, and in other less noteworthy respects, we cannot award to them the merit of having given any very distinct, bold, or emphatic prominence to any particularly valuable fundamental idea in Social Philosophy, or any such idea that has not been hitherto commonly received. The only idea of this character, indeed, that we can detect in their writings, is that which we have already attributed to Confucius and Solon. Not much to their credit must we adjudge, that they have added very little to the force and effect with which the idea has been asserted by those renowned .sages of antiquity. The idea is that which we may as well, at once, and once for all, designate as the true Copernican idea in Social Philosophy — the idea that it is the man that makes the government, not the GOVERNMENT that makcs the man — the idea, that it is man, and not his institutions, or, as some profound superflcialists are pleased to assert, his conditions, that is the prime cause of his social con- 142 GUIZOT AND HALLAM. [CIlJip. VIII., dition and general destiny — the idea, in short, and most compre- hensively expressed, that man is the true centre of the social uni- verse, around which all his institutions revolve, and that as in human history, and in universal history, facts should everywhere be subordinated to ideas, so in Social Philosophy, more particu- larly, all institutions, all laws, all ideas should be subordinated to the great paramount idea of man, and the congeries of ideas which he embodies and represents. This idea has not indeed been anywhere, as yet, clearly, dis- tinctly, and emphatically expressed, much less, so clearly, dis- tinctly, or emphatically, as it is here asserted. No writer or speaker appears hitherto to have had the boldness to make this assertion, if any one has had the discernment to recognize so fully its truth. Many approximations to the assertion may indeed be readily discovered. We have already seen this manifested in the sages of antiquity, in Confucius, Solon, and Aristotle. Still more decided manifestations of it shall we find in modern times. Nearly all the great thinkers of the present age evince, more or less dis- tinctly, some appreciation of the truth. In every direction, indeed, we find manifestations of the general approach of the human mind to the recognition of this grand and extensively revolutionary idea. As the various worlds composing the solar system, in their grand march through space, if they should, perchance, approach very near some other great world, or group of worlds, would, by the laws of Siderial Philosophy, give manifestations of their approach, by certain irregular movements and disturbances of the ordinary forces of gravity ; so the various leading and controlling minds, that compose the world of thought, by the extensively prevalent manifestations which they have lately given of a strong gravita- tion in this direction, clearly indicate that the human mind is nearly approaching this great truth, and will soon attain to its clear and distinct general recognition. The author of the present work, therefore, feels assured that he is but slightly anticipating the general movement of the human mind, when he steps forward, as he aims to do, in this leading enterprise of his life, to announce this great truth, in common with some others, somewhat more boldly, distinctly, and § 3.] GUIZOT AND nALLAM. 143 comprehensively, than any anterior thinker appears to have done. Ju the present work, however he is merely reviewing the thoughts of others, rather than attempting the communication of his own. Having drawn on his own thoughts, nevertheless, so far as to ex- press the idea in question, in its most essential and comprehen- sive significance, we shall be the better able to appreciate the actual testimonials to its truth, or recognitions of it, that have been hitherto afforded. In the j)receding chapter, having briefly glanced at some note- worthy recognitions of the idea in ancient times, we come now to consider the testimonials to it which the modern age has afforded, and, more particularly, in the present chapter, as it has rendered itself through two of its most eminent thinkers, the Frenc'araan Guizot, and the Anglo-Saxon Ilaliam. Very feeble indeed, timid, indirect, indistinct, hesitating, and equivocal, has been the rendition of the idea by both of these savans, even by Guizot, in wliose writings the idea very often crops out, though never very boldly, and still more so by Hallam, who, only once, very timidly asserts the idea, and afterwards shamefully abandons it, falling, most palpably and grossly, into the vulgar habit of regarding the institutions of a people as the real cause of their condition and cliaracter. § 3. The most valuable thoughts of the great French states- man, Francois Pierre Guillaume Guizot, or as we should render it in English, Francis Peter William Guizot, are doubtless to be found in his lectures on History, delivered at Paris, during the }'ears 1828, 1829, and 1830, and subsequently published in the l)ook form, under the title of " The History of Civilization fi'om the fall of the Koman Empire to the French Kevolution." It is of this work that we have already spoken, when extolling his merits in respect to his method of dealing with the facts of his- tory ; and it is in this work that we find the expressions of the great fundamental idea in Social Philosophy, which it is here sought to bring into prominent view. Somewhere in this work, Guizot has clearly, tersely, and forcibly enough expressed this idea, where he says, " Saving a powerful 144 GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. [Chap. VIII., reaction, governments are what the people make them." But where precisely, or in what connection, he uses this" language, the author is not able now to ascertain. Remembered from a read- ing of some years past, it has been of late diligently sought for in vain, and is here cited generally without any special reference,* Other expressions of the idea abound throughout the work, but none so terse or strong as this. In his fifth lecture, which treats mainly of the religious ele- ment in European society, Guizot justly says : " In addressing itself to the understanding, in determining the will, in acting by purely intellectual means, the government, instead of reducing, extends and elevates itself. It is then that it accomplishes the most and the greatest things. On the contrary, when it is obliged incessantly to employ coercion, it contracts and lessens itself, and effects vjery little, and that little very Ul.""}" Here, it may readily be perceived, is a faint and very imperfect recognition of the idea. It is but an argumentative recognition, however, at the most, not a positive or direct one, and even as such, it is but a faint and feeble recognition. It wisely enough asserts that government acts most effectively by addressing itself to the will of the men to be governed. But it does not penetrate deeply enough into causes, to discern and declare, that it must be that will, on which it should seek to operate, that has primarily operated upon itself — has moulded, determined, and created itself — that, in short, the government of a Society, in acting upon the Society, is in reality, for the most part. Society acting upon itself, or rather reacting upon itself, through the intervention of the government. This more profound and equally just idea is implied, nay, in- deed, plainly enough expressed, in the idea of Guizot, first quoted, " Saving a powerful reaction, governments are what the people make them" — the idea which the author of this work is not able precisely to locate in the writings of Guizot, Avhich has, * The author would be much indebted to the editor of "Notes and Queries," if he would ascertain and inform where precisely in this work of Guizot, or any other of liis traaslatwl works, this passage occurs — not the substance of the pas- sage merel}-, but the identical passage. t Ilistorj' of Civilization in Europe, as translated b3' William Ilazlett, Vol. I., Lcc.V.,p. 01 London Ed. of 184G. * § 2.] GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. 145 » to a certain extent become lost to his view, and which, like the lost pleiad, is more to be prized than all the rest. But how feebly and imperfectly must an author have apprehended and appreciated such an idea, to have asserted it distinctly, only once, among the many occasions for asserting it, which Guizot had, in the great work from which we quote. In his Sixth lecture, while speaking of the great influence which the people of France exerted on their government, at a period when they had the least legal influence, by means of political institutions, namely, under the reigns of Louis XIV". and Louis XV., he speaks somewhat more clearly and forcibly to the point under review. In explanation of this phenomenon, he very justly remarks : " It is because there is a force which can- not be enclosed by laws, which, when there is need, can dispense with institutions. It is the force of ideas, of the public mind and opinion. In France, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there was a public opinion, which was much more powerful than at any other epoch. Although deprived of the means of acting legally upon the government, it acted indirectly by the empire of ideas, which are common alike to the goveriiing and the governed, and by the impossibility which the governing felt of taking no note of the opinion of the governed."* In the Ninth lecture of his History of Civilization, Guizot again expresses the idea quite as forcibly and distinctly as in the Sixth. In this lecture, which treats mainly of Royalty, he argues, very rightly, that the extensive prevalence, if not univer- sality, of this form of government, proves its accordance with the laws of human nature, and the demands of human society, under many, if not most, of the conditions to which it is subjected. In the course of this argument he uses this eminently correct and noteworthy language : " Force plays a great part, and an incessant one, in human affairs ; but it is not their principle, their primum mohle. Above force and the part which it plays, there hovers a moral cause which decides the totality of things. It is with force in the history of societies, as with the body in the history of man. * Same work, p. 107, 7 146 GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. [Chap. VIII., The body surely holds a high place in the life of man, but still it is not the principle of life. Life circulates within it, but it does not emanate from it. So it is with human societies ; what- ever part force takes therein, it is not force -which governs them and which presides supremely over their destinies ; it is ideas and moral influences, which conceal themselves under the accidents of force, and regulate the course of the Society. It is a cause of this kind, and not force, which gave success to royalty."* Ad- mirably just language. In other words, the people are themselves the cause of that monarchical form of government, sometimes called despotism, and sometimes rightly, of which they so often complain. It is their follies that render such government necessary. Does not the whole history of the world prove this 1 Does not the late war in America demonstrate it '? Why complain of kings ? It is the people that create them. Why give mankind the best and freest government in the Avorld — if the freest be indeed the best 7 By their own folly and madness they will recklessly throw it away. Man is the architect of his own destiny. Let him, then, blame himself, not his neighbor, for his misfortunes. Let him lay the fault on the truly responsible party, in so far as there is any re- sponsibility in the case, on himself — not on his rulers, on his ill lot, on his stais. " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings."f § 4. In the Foux'th of his lectures on the History of Civiliza- tion in France, more particularly, which immediately succeed those on the History of Civilization in Europe, in the volume here quoted from, Guizot again expresses the same idea, with some degree of commendable clearness and force. He speaks, in this lecture, directly of the reciprocal influences of the moral and social states of society on each other, which, it may readily be perceived, is but speaking, in other words, and in more accurate, more philosophical parlance, of the reci])rocal influences of man, and his social ouganism, on each other. * Same work, p. 163. t Cassius to Brutus in the play of Julius Cajsar. § 4.] GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. 147 On this point, he says: "The moral state, then, must be acknowledged to be not only distinct from, but, to a certain point, independent of the social state. It should be seen that situations, institutions are not all, nor do they decide all in the life of nations ; tliat other causes may modify, contend with, even surmount these ; and that if the external world acts upon man, man, in his turn, acts upon the world. I would not, that it should be thought I reject the idea which I combat — fiir from it ; its share of legitimacy is great. No doubt but that the social state exercised a powerful influence upon the moral state. I do not so much as Avish that this doctrine should be exclusive ; the influence is shared and reciprocal ; if it be correct to say that governments make nations, it is no less true that nations make governments."* Here, too, Guizot speaks well, but not so well altogether as truth warrants and demands. In the necessary action and re- action of man and his government upon each other, this superior thinker is evidently inclined to give the order of prioi-ity and par- amount influence to the man, but he does not do this so emphati- cally and boldly as truth justifies, and the present exigencies of society, as well as the requirements of true social science, imper- atively demand. Very true it is that, to a certain extent, "governments make nations." But it is far more indisputably true, and to a far greater extent, that "nations make govern- ments." This latter, it should be constantly borne in mind, is the primary and paramount idea. For, most essentially and cor- rectly speaking, even in those instances and those respects, in which we may say that "governments make nations," it is the nation acting on itself through the agency of its government, — through the activity of the most superior portions of itself, of its most superior minds — that effects the end accomplished. The principal exception to this general remark is afforded by the in- stances of FOREIGN INTERVENTION, whicli has, doubtlcss, ever been one of the potent instrumentalities in the civilization and advancement of nations. Subject to this qualification, except in so far as the rulers of a * History of Civilization, before cited, pp. 348-9. 148 GUIZOT ANB IIALLAM. [Chap. VIII, , nation may be of foreign origin, the observation here made will hold good, that the action of government on the society or nation is but the secondary action, or reaction, of the society or nation upon itself. In such cases it is but the action of the more supe- rior portion of the society upon the more inferior, just as we see that the higher and nobler qualities of our individual nature often dominate over, and control, our lower and more ignoble qualities. Peter the Great civilized the Russians, as we commonly say. But Peter the Great was himself a Russian ; and the so called civilization of Russia by him was, in reality, but the Russian nation civilizing itself, through the highest energies with which it was endowed. Whether a nation can be civilized So rapidly, or to so gi'cat an extent, as were the Russians in this case, therefore depends materially upon the question whether it is capable of producing a Peter the Great — whether there is that much of in- tellectuality and moral force inherent in itself. We shall not be likely to hear of any Negi'o nation, for example, nor Mongolian cither, ever becoming so signally civilized as were these Russians, or in so short a time. The negro race has, indeed, produced its Toussaint L'Ouverte, a man of great merit, of whom his race may well be proud. But he was no Peter the Great. Every nation or race has its gi-eat men. But it is not every nation or race that has, or can have, a Peter the Great. § 5. The same great truth has been also recognized, and parti- ally or impliedly asserted, by this eminent authority, in his re- marks on the Feudal System, which it has been the common habit hitherto, in accordance with tlie superficial system of thought hith- erto prevalent in Social Philosophy, to regard as the cause of the distracted and unsettled condition of society then prevalent in Europe, but which he lias had the sagacity to discern, was rather the EFFECT of that condition of society — the effect which was truly referable to the existing condition of society in Europe, at that time, as its proper calsI'; — the natural outgrowth of the prevailing habits and ideas of the mkn at that time composing European society. § 5.] GUIZOT AXD IIALLAM. 149 Thus, in commenting on the futile attempt of Charlemagne, in the ninth century, to consolidate society under an extensive politi- cal system, by combining the principles of the extinct Koman government with those of the warrior bands and free tribes of Germany, he says: "He succeeded for a moment, and on his own account. But this was, as it were, a galvanic resurrection. Applied to a great society, the principles of the imperial adminis- tration, those of the warrior band, and those of the free tribes of Germany, were equally impracticable. No great society could be maintained. It is necessary to find its elements, on the one hand, in the minds of men — on the other, in social relations. Now, the moral and the social state of the people at this epoch equally resisted all association, all government of a single and extended character. Mankind had few ideas, and did not look far around. Social relations were rare and restricted. The horizon of thought and of life was exceedingly limited. Under such conditions, a great society is impossible."* Further on, in the same paragraph, he adds : " Small societies, local governments, cut, as it were, to the measure of existing ideas and relations, wei-e alone possible, and these alone succeeded in establishing themselves. "f Still more explicitly does Guizot express the same idea, in the commencement of his next lecture to that from which the fore- going extracts are taken, where, in recapitulating the views of the preceding lecture, as to the causes of the dismemberment of the empire of Charlemange, he says : " It seemed to me that the im- possibility of a sole and extensive society, in the state in which so- cial relations and minds then were, alone fully explains this great and so rapid metamorphosis ; that the formation of a multitude of small societies, that is to say, the establishment of _the feudal system, was the necessary consequence — the natural course of events."^ In view of the foregoing observations of the eminent savan un- der review, what judgment are we to pass upon the superficial * History of Civilization in France, Lect. XXIV ; or Vol. II., p, 291, of Edir tion before quoted, f Same work and page J Same work, Vol. II„ p. 293. 150 GUIZOT AND DALLAM. [Chap. VIII., idea, which has hitherto mainly controlled thought in Social Pliilo?ophy, that it is to the political institutions of a people we arc to look for the causes which mainly determine their well- being, and which, in its practical manifestations, is so often fouryi attempting to turn the world upside dowTi, in order to force the FOOT of humanity into one common shoe, politically, regardless of the form of national character, its natural environment, and the age of the society, as well as of the world, at the time such society finds itself developed on the stage of national existence ? § G. In passing from a review of the thoughts of Guizot, to a review of those of Hallam, we must be more than usually im- pressed with the tameness, if not positive timidity, which distin- guishes the ordinary style of Anglican thought from the Frankish. Cautious and even timid scepticism is the leading characteristic of Anglican thought in general ; bold, daring, and presumptuous DOGMATISM is that of the Frankish. Perhaps Anglo-American thought may be destined to strike the happy mean between the two, and present to the world a model style of thought. It is rather probable, however, that nature understands her business, in this respect, as in most others, and that, by deliberate and wise design, she has assigned to different nations and races of men, different styles of thought, and diflercnt orders of mind, as well as different general functions to perform in the general life of humanity, and the grand economy of universal being. It is rather probable that the division of labor, which we find to operate so advantageously in the ordinary industrial economy of society, is equally as beneficial in the grand economy of universal human life. It is rather probable that the ends of that grand economy are best subserved by assigning to different nations different orders of mind and character, which blatant ignora- muses are so constantly striving to ignore, and even to contradict Avith their petty twaddle about making all men alike by educa- ting them alike. It is doubtless by wise design, that the great nationalities, or demi-races, of the Caucasian family, who now compose the would of thought, the Teutonic, Frankish, and Aiiglo-Saxon, § 7."] GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. 151 or more properly Anglo-Teutonic, have been endowed each with its own peculiar and distinguishing style of thought, and order of mind. Germany is metaphysical, France mathematical, Anglo-Saxondom practical, Germany is profound, France exact, Anglo-Saxondom efficient. Germany cogitates, France experi- ments, Anglo-Saxondora executes. Great, earnest, deep-thinking, oracular Germany utters her grand oracles, like voices from the unfathomable depths ; subtle, ingenious, skilful France analyzes and dissects them ; grave, thoughtful, cautious Anglo-Saxondom passes judgment upon them, and decides how far they may be relied upon, or turned to useful account, either in the speculative or practical sciences. § 7. Let us not, then, presume to despise or to disparage any one of these different styles of thought, which respectively dis- tinguish these three great nationalities or demi-races of men, the greatest, beyond all doubt, that have ever yet illustrated the human family, not excepting the Hellenic or Eomanic. Let us not — we might almost venture to say — least of all, presume to despise the Anglican style of thought, because of its tameness, its timidity, its cautious and many-sided scepticism. Tiiese are its distinguishing virtues, not its faults. What, indeed, to the truly philosophical mind, are faults- at most, but the extremes of virtue ? Assuredly, at any rate, these plain and home-spun quaUties of the Anglo-Saxon mind, rightly interpreted, are rare and eminent virtues. They are the virtues that will yet enable the race to bear off the honors of pre-eminence from all the rest. Its knowl- edge indeed generally comes last, but when it comes, it is gen- erally turned to good account. If it is slow to learn, even that which is good and true, it is also slow to depart from it, when it has been once learned. It is, after all, to the true philosopher and philanthropist, the most hopeful of the nationalities. It is the great hope-field of humanity. It is the race " that tries all things, proves nil things, and holds fast to that which is good." § 8. It is the more remarkable, however, that the thoughts of Hallam should appear tame, in contrast with those of Guizot, 152 GUIZOT AXD HAI.LAII. [Cliap. VIII., because Guizot liimsclf is by no means one of the particularly bold, or daringly dogmatical thinkers of France. On the contrary, he is one of the most conservative, cautious, subdued, and least dogmatical, of all the philosophical thinkers of that country. Nay, he may be considered rather timid as a reasoner. In boldness of thought, as we shall presently see, he full3 far behind the Anglo-Saxon, Buckle. How happens it, then, that Hallam is to appear so tame in contrast with Guizot in our review ? Is it that he is a particu- larly tame or timid thinker, even for an Anglo-Saxon ; or is it that the general merit of his work is far inferior to that of Gui- zot ? Neither of these suggestions is correct. In vigor, independ- ence, and even originality of thought Hallam rises decidedly above the average of Anglican thinkers, rather than falls below it ; and in general merit, his work under review is superior to the corresponding one of Guizot. It is a more elaborate work, and one of superior artistic execution. In what, then, consists the greater tameness of the thought of Hallam in question ? It con- sists only in what relates to the particular idea under considera- tion — THE COPEKXICAN IDEA IN SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY, aS WC have already designated it. True to its instincts, and its legitimate functions in the grand economy of the world of thought, the Anglo-Saxon mind, as it renders itself through the grave, dignified, cautious, and sagacious Hallam, approaches this grave and extensively revolutionary idea, with great caution and timidity. Looking through his large and sagacious brain it catches a broad glimpse of the great idea, gravely and cautiously announces its observation, and then, as if alarmed at its own announcement, flatly contradicts it, and falls into the old habit of reasoning upon the Philosophy of So- ciety — the old and vulgar habit of regarding the phenomena of the Social Universe from the stand-point of the institutions, as the true centre of social gi-avitation, and the fundamental regu- lator of all social revolutions. § 9. In the Second chapter of his admirable woik on the * Middle Age, while making many just and excellent observations on the Feudal System, he makes this eminently just one : " If § 9.] GDIZOT AND IIALLAM. 153 the view that I have taken of those dark ages is correct, the state of anarcliy which we usually term feudal, was the natural result of a vast and barbarous empire feebly administered, and the cause rather than the effect of the gcnei-al establishment of feudal tenures."* Here we find a clear enough recognition of the true Copernican idea of Social Philosopy — the idea that it is the sociETr, or the MKN composing the society, that make the institutions, not the INSTITUTIONS that make the men, except, indeed, to a very lim- I ited extent, as the earth reflects back upon the sun the hght which it directly derives from him. In the Eighth chapter of the same work, however, which treats of English History, Hallam palpably departs from and contra- dicts the sound doctrine thus laid down in his second chapter. In speaking of the great advantages which the English people have long enjoyed, he says: " These advantages are surely not owing to the soil of the island, nor to the latitude in which it is placed ; but to the spirit of its laws, from which, through various means, the characteristic independence and industriousness of 'our nation have been derived."! What a melancholy failure of thought does our author here betray ! How shamefully does he retreat from the valid position which, but a little while before, he had so handsomely and creditably taken ! To have been con- sistent with himself, very manifestly he should have said the ad- vantages enjoyed by the English were owing to the spirit of the English people, from which, through various means, their ex- cellent laws, as well as the characteristic independence and in- dustriousness of the nation, have been derived. What a pitiful perversion of indisputable truth — which should have been the more obvious to Hallam, after his former partial recognition of it — thus to attribute the spirit of a people to the spirit of their laws, instead of attributing the spirit of the laws to that of the PEOPLE !" We have before had occasion, J and shall again, in the follow- * Middle Age, Chap. II., Part II., or page 123, New York Edition of 1857. ■}■ Middle Age, Chap. VIII., first page of chapter. I Chap. VI. of this work. 7* 154 GUIZOT AND IIALLA3I. [Cliap. VIII., ing chapter, to notice the admirably just and forcibly expressed counter idea of De Maistre, which is so admirably responsive to this weak observation of Hallam, that it is difficult to cite the one without citing the other also, as its legitimate antipode. "The true English constitution," says that profound thinker, " is that admirable, unique, and infallible public spirit, beyond all praise, which guides everything, preserves everything, saves everything. That which is wiitten is nothing." § 10. These two observations of Hallam are all that can be re- garded as particularly noteworthy in this part of our general work.* How tame and inconsiderable must we regard this little self-contradictory contribution to the Philosophy of Society, af- forded by the Anglo-Saxon mind, compared with that contributed by the Frankish, as represented by Guizot ! The first of the two observations is, indeed, highly creditable, but the last materially detracts from its merit by showing how imperfectly the idea was appreciated. Certainly the Anglo-Saxon mind has not acquitted itself very creditably in this instance. Speaking in military metaphor, we may say, the Anglo-Saxon mind, as it has rendered itself through the brain of Hallam, marched up bravely to take the height, which commands the whole field of thought in Social Philosophy, and, when it had barely reached the summit, became suddenly panic-stricken, and beat a hasty retreat. Our disappointment, as well as the general interest with which we contemplate the movement, may be com- pared to that which the military chieftain is destined often to experience. As a Peter the Great may be supposed to have con- templated the movements of his awkward Kussians, when he was training them to compete with the Swedes of Charles XII., and as a Washington must have regarded bis raw militia, when he was vainly striving to educate them to stand up against the ad- mirably disciplined British troops, so the philosopher who hopes on the Anglo-Saxon race, and calculates on their eventual de- velopment into the highest type of humanity, must regard this movement of the Anglo-Saxon mind. * For other noteworthy ideas of Hallam, of a less high order, see Part II., Chap. VI., of our general work. § 10.] GUIZOT AND IIALLAM. 155 But, whatever disappointment or chiigrin he may experience at the contemplation, let him not despair. Those awkward Kus- sians, after severe suffering and much rigorous discipline, at last vanquished the Swedes. Those raw militia of Washington, aided by the inatlmnaiically disciplined French, were, after all, enabled to triurapli over the British. And so, it is little to be doubted, the Anglo-Saxon race, slow as it is to apprehend, and rightly to apply, the most fundamental ideas, will attain them eventually ; and after much discipline, much severe training in the rigid school of experience, will come out triumphant. Learning from every other race whatever real truth it has to impart, borrowing from every other, whatever really useful expedient it may have dis- covered, and combining with these the suggestions of its own in- herent and excellent common sense, it will eventually, no doubt, take the lead of all other races or nationalities, and cany forward the human race to a much higher degree of development than it has ever yet attained. CHAPTEK IX. TIIE VALU.U3LE CONTBIBUTIONS OF DE MAISTRE AND CIIALMI-IKri TO THE Vlll- Losopin' or society outically coxsroEUED. § 1. DicsriTK the obvious points of difference between the two eminent savans'Avlio arc associated in this chapter for joint con- sideration, it is by reason of tlioir afrmilies of I'escmblance, rather than of contrast, that they arc so conjoined. The points of rcsenibhincc between thom arc much more marked and essen- tial tlian their points of dissiraihxrity. l)e Maislre, it is true, was of Romanic nationality — a sort of half Italian half Frenchman, by parentage and nativity an Italian, but writing, and t/unking, as we may say, in French — AY hilo Chalmers was an Anglo-Saxon. DelSIaistre was thoroughly a papist in his theological views — Chalmers as thoroughly a puritan. l)e Maistre wrote avowedly on the principles of Gov- ermncnt, in the work which it is here proposed to review — Chal- mer.s, avowedly on Political Economy. But they were both theo- logians, and intensely theological — using those terms in their narrow or more restricted sense — both religious enthusiasts, though of diilercnt styles of religion, both remarkable for their energy and power of thought, and both distinguished by the singular clearness and force Avith which they have respectively expressed two of the most essentially valuable ideas in the Philos- ophy of Society, thai have l)een as yet formally announced. In pronouncing De INIaistre a theologian, however, it should be understood that we speak cfc.sentially, and not literally. So speaking we are fully justiiied in so designating him. For al- though he was not by profession a theologian, but rather a poli- tician and diplomat, yet in the work Avhich brings him under review in these pages, he has evinced the most intensely theologi- cal spirit, in so far indeed as such a spirit is essentially dis{)layed in an overweening disposition to advocate a Theocracy founded on the arrogant preten^ions of the Pomish Church. A llilde- § 2.] 1)K MAISTKK AND CIIALMKKS. 157 brand or Loyola could hardly have approved himself a more en- thusiastic and bigoted advocate of those pretensions than Do Maistre has done in the work in question. The Keverend Thomas Chalmers is so extensively known as a clcr<.'yinan of the Estab- lished Church of Scotland, or of the ultra puritanical school of Christianity, that no particular remarks concerning his peculiar vocation in life are here requisite. How little soever so contracted a system of theology, so purely theistical a theology, as that advocated by either of these eminent tliinkers, may commend itself to the judgment of a true Philosophy, no true philosopher will despise the valuable truths which they have inculcated, merely because he may be compelled to reject their contracted a lews as to " the great first cause least understood." The true philosopher is ever ready to receive new truth from whatever quarter it may come, and it has been well said, that " a philosoplier will learn sometliing even from a fool, while a fool will not learn anything, even from a philosopher." The kingdom of Science is like the kingdom of Heaven, "to be received as a little child," with an humble and teachable s[)irit, ready to receive knowledge from whatever direction it may come. Too little perhaps has this truth been considered by many philosophers. Let us bear it ever in mind, and proceed to inquire what are the valuable truths in regard to the Philosophy of Society which have been presented to us by the two eminent authorities who form the subject of the present chapter. § 2. The Essay on the Generative Principle of Political Con- I stitutions, published in the French language in 1814, by Count Joseph De Maistre, and translated into English by an anony- mous author,* is one of the most remarkable productions of the human intellect. The work is distinguished alike for its exceed- ing brevity of language, and its vast voluminousncsS of thought. It comprises, with the Preface, only a hundred and seventy-llirce jicijcs, duodecimo, in largely displayed type, nearly half of the gross * See Boston Edition, or that of Litllo & Brown, of 1817, for the English translation. lo8 DE MAISTIIE AND CHALMERS. [Cliap. IX., amoiuit of those few pages, moreover, being occupied witli notes, mostly by the translator. Within this exceedingly small compass are compressed some of the rarest, most suggestive, and most com- prehensive thought^ on the Philosophy of Society that have ever been submitted to the human understanding. The voluminousness of thought, which we thus attribute to this work, does not consist in the number of its thoughts, but in their weight and compass. It is indeed a work of veiy few ideas, as well as words, but those are weighty ideas, and expressed with a clearness and force em- inently calculated to arrest attention and carry conviction. But the yet greater value of the ideas consists in their rarity, their originality, their opposition to common opinions that are erroneous, and their tendency to exert a powerful influence in turning atten- tion from an erroneous view of highly important subjects to a moi-e just view. The great leading and fundamental idea of the work is that which we have already expressed, in the sixth main proposition, laid down in our Sixth chapter, and there credited to De Maistre, that the most important and fundamental laws by which human society is governed are precisely those that are never written, ex- cept indeed in the minds of men. Around this great fundamental or central idea all the other ideas of the work are grouped — all other ideas, not purely incidental, which it contains, are but di- versified or more particular statements of this grand controlling idea. This important idea, so much opposed to commonly received opinions, must commcml itself at once to the acceptance of every rightly discerning Social Philosojiher. The inmicdiate application which De Maistre makes of this, the most fundamental, general, and comprehensive idea of his work, or, as we should rather say perhaps, its next most fundamental, general, and comprehensive idea, or proposition, may or may not be accepted by the Social Philosopher ; but the more remote application which he makes of it, or his third general proposition, and evidently intended as the conclusory proposition, or grand practical conclusion of the work, must be rejected by every true philosopher. The immediate application ^\•hich De Maistre makes of his main § 2.] DE MAISTKE AND CHALMERS. 159 fundamental idea takes a theological turn, and his second main idea, or somewhat less general one, is, accordingly, that the most fundamental laws which govern human society are of Divine en- actment ; and his design in publishing the work may be correctly stated, doubtlessly, in the words of the American translator, expres- sive of his own design, or hope in translating it, "that it may lead to a more just recognition of the Hand of God in the History of the World."* The more remote and ultimate application which he makes of his main idea takes a sectarian turn, and his third main idea, or still less general proposition, is, accordingly — to speak in accord- ance with the most comprehensive significance of his reasoning, in its most condensed form of expression — that the Divine enact- ments by which human society is most essentially governed, and by which alone it can be safely governed, are rendered through the religious establishments of the society or age, and, in the pre- sent age, consequently, through that artificially contrived eccle- siastical establishment known in history as the Church of Rome. He does not, indeed, so formally state this general aim of his reason- ings, much less the more particular application of it to the Romish Church. He was too skilful and judicious an advocate for that. But this is evidently the essential drift and tendency of all his reasonings. To his eye the Divine Presence is only manifest in the worldj under the foi'm of the august ceremonies of that venera- ble Church. His mind was evidently not expanded enough in its theological conceptions to comprehend that the Divine Presence is most probably manifest in every work of nature, or, in other words, in every work of the " Hand of God," and that every hu- man soul is a living temple of God, whose " holy presence" is constantly manifest therein. This last application of his main idea, or more correctly to speak, this third form of his most fundamental proposition, every true philosopher, whether sociologist, physiologist, or philosopher of whatever kind, must respectfully reject. The first application, * See Boston Edition of the work of 1847, Notice by the Translator, page 5. IGO DE MAISTKE AND CHALMERS. [Ch:ip. IX., or the second form of the most funJaincntal propo.-ition, the ?ocial philosopher may or may not accept, iudilFerently. It is obviously of no practical consequence to the social philoso- plier, whether the most fundamental laws that control the destiny of human society are to be regarded as of Divine enactment, or of some other kind, so long as it is conceded that those laws are be- yond human control, and are referable to some higher power than that of man. It is obviously of no practical, or, at least, imme- diately practical, consequence to his reasonings, whether we call those most fundamental laws of human society Divine laws, or simply laws of Nature — whether, in short, we adopt the Theistic, Pantheistic, or the Atheistic view of nature and its eternal laws. The Theist simply, and, as commonly understood, recognizes the Theos, or God, only in some particular things, whether de- velopments in external nature, or in man ; the Pantheist recog- nizes Him in everjthing ; the Atheist, in nothing. To the con- tracted view of the simple Theist, only a part of universal nature and of man, the most important part of nature, is really animated by the Deiiy. To the enlai'ged view of the Pantheist the whole universe is alive with God. To the dull and leaden view of the Atheist, there is no God anywhere discernible, and to him uni- versal nature is without a soul. In reference to the science of Sociology, it matters not which of tliese theological views we may adopt. In so far as the reason- ings of the Social Philosopher are concerned, it is a matter of in- diflerence what may be our theology or idea as to the true funda- mental and original cause or principle of motion. It is enougk for him to know that the part which man plays, as a controller or modifier of events, even in the economy of society and of his own individual life, is very small, as compared with that which is performed by the great unseen cause least understood ; nay, that even the part which he does play, or seems to play, or may be said — by way of contradistinction only — so to play, is not in reality his own, but that of the true original and fundaraentid. cause, acting through him as an instrumentality — acting through, him by secondwy and more complex laws, as contradistinguished from those primar?/ and more simple laws, which are commonly § 2.] DE JIAISTRE AND CHALMERS. IGl regarded as laws of nature ; that, in short, man, in all the utterances of his speech or reason, is but a noisy tongue, speak- ing out of the mouth of universal reason, and, in all the achievements of his industry and art, is but a little hand, dang- ling beside the body of universal nature. This is the great idea, the grand truth, which the reasonings of De Maistre, in the work under consideration, tend to bring dis- tinctly into view. Pie does not, indeed, by any means, so fully present this great idea, but he marches forward bravely and nobly towards it. He lifts, to a great extent, the veil of vulgar error and dull common opinion, which has hitherto obscured it and kept it out of sight. It is the expression, or approximative ex- pression, which he has given to this great truth, and the valuable contribution which he has thus made — unconsciously made — to- wards the great revolution that is to come in human thoughts, alike in Ethics and Sociology, that constitutes the great merit of his work under review. Let us see how he has acquitted himself in this respect, and what have been the actual testimonials of his superior intellect to this great and extensively revolutionary doc- trine. § 3. In the preface of his work, De Maisti'e lays down twelve propositions, of which some are liable to some important excep- tions, but which are, for the most part, unexceptionable and emi- nently just. They are as follows, omitting the interpolations, by way of amplification, in some places, of the American trans- lator : " 1. No constitution results from deliberation ; the rights of the people are never written, or never except as simple declarations of pre-existing rights not written, of which nothing more can be said than that they exist because they exist. " 2. Human action, in such cases, is so far circumscribed, that the men who act are only circumstances. ■'3. The rights oi the people, properly so called, proceed almost always from the concessions of sovereigns, and then it is possible 1G2 DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., to trace them historically ; but the rights of the sovereign and of the aristocracy have neither date nor known authors. " 4. These concessions themselves have always been prcceddil by a state of things which rendered them necessary, and whicli did not depend upon the sovereign. " 5, Although written laws are only the declarations of pre- existing rights, yet it does not follow that all these rights can be written. " 6. The more is written, the weaker the constitution. " 7. No nation can give liberty to itself, if it lias it not. Hu- man influence does not extend beyond the development of existing rights. " 8. Lawgivers, strictly speaking, are extraordinary men, be- longing, perhaps, only to the ancient world and to the youth of nations. " 9. These lawgivers even, notwithstanding their wonderful power, have only collected the pre-existing elements, and have always acted in the name of the Divinity. '•' 10. Liberty, in a sense, is the gift of kings ; for all nations were constituted free by kings. "11. There never has existed a free nation which had not, in its natural constitution, germs of liberty as old as itself; and no nation has ever successfully attempted to develop, by its fundamental written laws, other rights than those which existed in its natural constitution. " 12. No assembly of men can give existence to a nation. An attempt of this kind ought even to bo ranked among the most memorable acts of folly."* It will readily be seen that the ideas expressed in the foregoing propositions are too strongly and unipialiliedly laid down. This fact, however, does not at all militate against their substantial * Preface to work under review, pp. 11-] 7. § 3.] DE MAISTKE AND ClIALAIEna. 1G3 truth, while it tends more forcibly to press them upon the view. This is the merit of very energetic and intensely dogmatical writers, that they are impressive at the expense of accuracy and strict conformity to truth. This is eminently the merit of the writer under review. In the main body of his Essay, and in its tirst paragraph, he says, to the same point, and with less exceptionable accuracy : " One of the grand errors of an age which professed them all, was to believe that a political constitution could be written and cre- ated a pnbri ; whilst reason and experience unite in establishing that a constitution is a Divine work, and that that which i^ most fundamental and most essentially constitutional, in the laws of a nation, is precisely what cannot be written."* It is in illustration only of the same idea, that he makes the observation on the English Constitution, so often before quoted : " The true English Constitution is that admirable, unique, and infallible public spirit, beyond all praise, which guides eveiy thing, preserves everything, saves everything. That which is written is nothing." f Further on, in the same work, he expresses the same idea, in yet different language somewhat, but with so much clearness and emphasis as to merit quotation with all its imperfections, and de- spite tli^ overdrawn intensity of expression which characterizes all the remarks of this energetic, though evidently embittered writer. In Section 9 of his Essay, he says : " The more we examine the influence of human agency in the formation of political insti- tutions, the greater will be our conviction that it enters there only in a manner infinitely subordinate, or as a simple instru- ment ; and I do not believe there remains the least doubt of the incontestable truth of the following propositions : " 1. That the fundamental principles of poUtical constitutions exist before all written law. " 2. That a constitutional law is, and can only be, the devel- opment or sanction of an unwritten preexisting right. * See same work, paragraph 1. f Same work, Section 7, p. 37. 164 DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., " 3. That that which is most essential, most intrinsically con- stitutional, and truly fundamental, is never written, and could not be, without endangering the state. "4. That the weakness and fragility of a constitution arc actually in direct pi'oportion to the multiplicity of written con- stitutional articles."* The foregoing quotation, like those already made, and more clearly perhaps than any of the others, brings clearly into view, at once, the merit and demerit of the author under review. For, while it shows him thoroughly animated with the great truth, that HUMAN AGENCY — evcn in so far as it can be regarded as any- thing more than the mere agency of uxiveksal nature, acting by secondary laws, and through human instrumentality — enters, only to a very limited extent, into human institutions, and that all written laAvs are, for the most part, only affirmations, or more formal distinct and explicit assertions of preexisting unwritten ones — while it shows all this, very clearly and emphatically, it shows also that he is animated with an unneccssaiy and unwise hostility to written laws This is certainly a very great error, or a very unjust prejudice. While it is certainly true, that written laws avail but little, and are of real efficacy only in so far as they are but aifirmations, or more emphatic and explicit assertions, of preexisting unwritten ones, it is as certainly true that the written laws cannot do any harm, may indeed do some good, and are, in short, of some little advantage. But this hostility of De Maistre to written laws, his evidently bitter prejudice against them, only betrays, in part, his intense liomish Catholic sympathies. The Romish Church can find no security except in uncompromising hostility to that which id written. This hostility, De Maistre, one of its great pi'o/ane apostles, if we may so speak, manifestly betrays throughout his whole Avork under review. But this error we may well excuse, in our admiration for the great utterances of real truth which he has given forth. * Same work, pp. 41-2. § 4.] DE MAISTRE AND CnAOIERS. 1G5 With one quotation more we must take leave of tliis brilliant writer, and may well afford to do so, for there is nothing more of much value in his little book, than what is contained in that, and in those already made. In Section 28 of the book, he says : " Everything brings us back to the general rule — Dian can- not create a constitution ; and no legitimate constitution can he twit- ten. The collection of fundamental laws, which most essentially constitutes a civil or religious society, never has been written, and never will be, a jiviori. It is only when society finds itself already constituted, without being able to say how, that it is possible to make known, or explain, in writing, certain special articles ; but, in almost every case, these declarations or explanations are the effect or cause of very gi'eat evils, and always cost the people more than they are'worlh-"* § 4. The most essentially valuable contribution which the Rev- erend Thomas Chalmers has made, to the Philosophy of Society, is comprised in what constitutes the essential contribution to that Philosopy which Malthusianism has made, and as such has al- ready been noticed in a former Part of this general work.f IMalthusianism, indeed, is mainly indebted to Dr. Chalmers and to John Stuart Mill for the valuable contribution which it has thus made ; or, rather, that contribution has been made mainly through them. That contribution, which we have heretofore designated as the grand conclusory idea of Malthusianism, and which may indeed be regarded as constituting the grand conclu- sory idea of all Social Philosophy, and certainly the highest practical attainment that it has yet made, consists in the mo- mentous assertion, variously made by both those two eminent authors, and reiterated, in many different forms, by Dr. Chal- mers, THAT, IN ORDER TO EFFECT ANY PERMANENT AMELIORATION OF HUMAN SOCIETY, IT IS NECESSARY TO ELEVATE THE MORAL STATUS OF MANKIND. * Same work, pp. 89-93. How heavily loaded with notes is the little book under review, may be seen in the fact that the brief quotation here made occu- pies, in part, four pages of it, the remainder of the pages being occupied with notes. t Part v., which treats of Malthusianism. 166 DK MAISTKE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., It would be useless repetition to dwell upon this great idea here, or the various noteworthy and emphatic assertions of it which Dr. Chalmers has made. They have been amply set forth in Part V., Chapter V., of this general review, which it is hoped will shortly be before the public, although not comprised in the present publication. Brief reference was there made, moreover, to another idea of Dr. Chalmers, intimately related to that just announced, but having more immediate relation to the DIAGNOSIS OF CAUSES, which, it was there stated, appertained rather to a higher and more advanced system of Social Philoso- phy than Malthusianism constituted, of which Dr. Chalmers was one of the most distinguished apostles, and which would be more particularly considered in a subsequent Part of the work.* It is to the consideration of this idea that we now come. Nor is it proposed to notice again, in this place, any of the valuable reflec- tions of Dr. Chalmers, except those which have immediate ref- erence to this idea. This idea, which has been already developed, to a considerable extent, in the Sixth chapter of the present publication, is ex- pressed in the assertion there made, that it is the collective WILL OF society, AND OF EACH PARTICULAR CLASS IN SOCIETY, THAT DETERMINES ITS CONDITION. This idea, which, very mani- festly, must be received with very important qualifications, is, nevertheless, and despite its qualllications, one of immense value, and, rightly understood, of indisputable truth. § o. On the very threshhold of the idea, or rather of the con- sideration which we propose to give it, we have, however, to en- counter a veiy great apparent contradiction between this idea, s»» highly estimated, of Dr. Chalmers, and that of De IMaistre, which we have just now, and in this very chapter, so much lauded and esteemed. After having represented man as a mere part of the general frame-work of nature, we come now to represent him as invested with the attributes of God. After having regarded him as es.sentially nothing, we come now to regard him as virtually * Part v., Chap, V., § 23. § 5.] DE MAISTKE AND ClIALMKHS. 167 everything— SO far, at least, as liis own immediate destiny is con- cerned. This startHng paradox need not, however, in the least degree, disconcert us. Truth everywhere presents, to the vulgar view, a tissue of paradoxes. Hence a great deal of the world's con- troversy. Hence we so often find contracted reasoners disputing and disagi-eeing, by putting one idea in opposition to another, both of which the comprehensive reasoner or true philosopher ac- cepts and harmonizes. Hence, again, the chief mission of the true philosopher is to harmonize discords. For to his view it is manifest that all opinions, however contradictory, are, to a cer- tain extent, true. There is no great difficulty in explaining the paradox which we here encounter, and which De Maisti'e himself has incidentally expressed, with his characteristic brevity and sententious dogma- tism, when, in alluding to the beautiful reflections of Plutarch, in his Banquet of the Seven Sages, he says that they " could not be more justly applied, than to the fox'mation of political constitu- tions, where it may be said, with equal truth, that man does everything, and does nothing."* The words of De Maistre would have been less intensely epigrammatical, indeed, but much more explicit and correct, had he said — ivliere it may he said, with equal truth, that man seems to do everijthing, and, in keality, does nothing. The paradox presented by the counter ideas of De Maistre and Chalmers, or the assertion that man is essentially nothing, and yet ostensibly and virtually everything, in so far as relates to his own immediate destiny in this world, is readily enough explained by remarking that both the ideas are true, though only in a certain sense, or when viewed from a certain stand-point. Regarded in a physical sense, the idea of Chalmers is true, regarded in a meta- physical sense, that of De Maistre is true. Viewed from a human stand-point, in the ordinaiy acceptation of that phrase, the former idea is correct, viewed from a higher or superhuman stand-point, the latter idea is correct. Looking at human affairs from the *See work before quoted, Sec. 10, p. 45. 168 DE MAISTRE AND CIIALMEUS. [Chap. IX., plane occupied by men, meaning thereby ordinary men, and the generality of men, the idea of Dr. Chahners is substantially just, that man is virtually everything — that his apparently creative WILL determines his destiny in this life. Looking at them from the jilane occupied by Gods, or the higher order of beings, celes- tial intelligences, if we may assume that such exist, the idea of De Maistre is as indisputably true that man is virtually nothing — that his body is but a part of the body of universal nature, and his mind but a part of the universal intelligence — that nis will, so called, is but an extenuation of the universal will, and that what he seems to do of himself is, in reality, but the action of the great vital forces of universal being, which find their highest known expression in the activities of his own rational existence. § 6 . The paradox is thus obviously enough explained. The fact that the collective wiU of society determines its social condi- tion, or that the individual will of every one determines his condi- tion and destiny in life, is not at all inconsistent with the yet more fundamental idea that man himself, with all the power of ms will, so called, Avith all his desires and activities, moral and intel- lectual, as well as physical, is a mere puppet, moved Avith and by the grand machinery of the universe. The indisputable power of the human will, in its own pitifully contracted sphere of action, does not imply any such absurdity as fPvEE-avill. Nothing is free. Everything is under the dominion of law. The will gov- erns the act, indeed, as we may say in common parlance, but God governs the will, or some power higher than that of man, and of which man is but the agent.* Man is undoubtedly the immediate architect of his own for- * "Were we autborized to deal with sectarian ideas here, we might quote the highest Chrii^tian authority in support of our text. St. Paul, one of the most eminent of all the sacred writers, perhaps the most eminent, somewhere says, " It is God that works in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure." It is true that this same great teacher, feeling the difficulties involved in this, his own gieat assertion, somewhere else says, "Shall we make God the author of evil? God forljid." Very good. But who shall presumptuously undertake to say that there is any evil, except in a relative sense, except in relation to the limited and contracted views, aims, and desires of man? § G.] DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. 1G9 tunes in this life, subject, however, to some important qualifica- tions, and his fortunes may be said, in accordance with the idea of Dr. Chahners, to be creatively implied in his will. But in thus achieving his own fortunes he is but an agent — a mere instrument. God, or Nature, if we |>refer so to speak with the atheists, " the great first cause least understood," by whatever name we may elect to call Him, is the principal. Man, through the crea- tive and quasi-divine energies of his will, is, indeed, the imme- diate cause of his social welfare and general destiny in this life ; Tout a power higher and greater than that of man, and of which K«5n, himself, is the mere instrumentality, is the original and fun- damental cause of his action and destiny. Man is, indeed, to a certain extent, and in his own little con- tracted circle of activity, a creator ; but he acts only by dele- gated power. He is no absolute originator, or essential self- creator. Yet he woiild be, if the partially creative energies of his will were, as commonly understood, free, or self-created. Abso- lute free-agency, or absolute free-will, and self-creation, are con- vertible terms. If man were capable of creating his own will, then he would be, to that extent, and to a very momentous ex- tent, a self-crkator. But this is absurd and impossible. God himself cannot be a self-creator, or therefore a .free agent — much less man. The human mind cannot affirm of God, or the genesis of God, any other postulate than that which is generally ac- cepted — that he is a self-existent being. To say that He is self- created would be to assert the self-evidently absurd proposition, that He either acted when He had as yet no existence, or that He created Himself when He was already created. God himself is not, therefore, a self- creator, or, what amounts to the same thing, a FREE AGENT. Leibnitz seems to have been one of the very few who have had the discernment to detect this great truth, to deny the free agency of God, and assert its impossibility. The more deeply one thinks, the further he penetrates the mys- tery of universal being, the more will this delusion as to free- agency, or free-will, on the part of either men or Gods, vanish be- Ifore his view, and the universe appear to him, in the realm of 170 DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., mind as well as matter, everywhere to be under the dominion of law. This is undoubtedly the true view. There is no free- agency, no free-will, anywhere to be discovered. Everything is under subjection to law. Every event, in the moral or material universe, is the necessary consequence of all its antecedents. Should the true secret of the universe ever be disclosed to human view, it will, beyond all reasonable doubt, be found to rest upon a series of mathematical propositions. Should the grand mystery of universal being ever be fully explained to us, we shall, doubt- lessly, find that God and nature, or mind and matter, and man, who is but the blended extenuation of both, could not be other- wise than precisely what they are, or ever may be, under all the circumstances surrounding them — that they could no more be otherwise than could the square described upon the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle be otherwise than precisely equivalent to the sum of the squares described upon the other two sides. The in- tegral and differential calculus of this mathematics, however, as manifested in the complex activities of the human mind, must ever prove too abstruse to be comprehended by any but the highest intellects. § 7. Having thus sufficiently explained the paradox, presented by the apparent antagonism between the two great ideas of De Maistre and Chalmers, let us proceed to consider, more minutely and particularly, Avhat is the precise significance of the idea of the latter, and what is the expression which he has given to the idea. Bearing in mind the more fundamental, and far more general, more comprehensive idea of the former, we shall be the better able clearly to appreciate that of the latter. The two ideas, like all other mutually qualifying, or intimately related ideas, are most advantageously considered together. BearintT in mind, then, that the most fundamental laws by which human society is governed, in the aggregate, as well as in the individual indeed, arc precisely those which are never written ; are precisely those with the enactment of which, by their own voluntary and intentional activity, men have nothing to do ; are precisely those, in short, which they find written in their § 7.] DE MAISTRE AND CHArMERS. 171 hearts or minds, without knowing how tliey got there, and of which thoy take cognizance by a sort of blind instinct — bearing in mind, moreover, that even in those laws which men do, by. their own voluntary and intentional activity, enact, or seem so to enact, they are, in reality, but the instrumentalities through which the more fundamental laws of Nature, or of nature's God, act and assert themselves, let us proceed to consider how this more funda- mental, and, perhaps we may say, most fundamental idea, is qualified, by the more particular and more immediately practical one announced by Dr. Chalmers. Keadily enough may we discern that the qualification is not at all in antagonism with the fundamental idea. Readily enough may we discern that the latter, and more particular idea, is en- tirely in harmony Avith the former and more general one, as are the various branches of every general truth in harmony with each other, and with the main truth. The assertion of Dr. Chalmers, that the collective will of society determines its condition, is but another mode of asserting that the condition of society is deter- mined by the character of the society, by the general disposition, or, in other words, the general will, which it finds itself to pos- sess — which it finds itself to have derived from its inherent natural propensities, and the force of all its anterior and surrounding cir- cumstances. For the general character of society determines its col- lective or general will — finds its expression in that will, or, in other words, in those habits, tastes, and dispositions, which are but the diversified and manifold manifestations of its collective will. To say, therefore, that the collective will of society determines its condition and destiny, is but to assert, in different words, that the manifestation which universal nature, or universal being, makes of itself in man, and in the different races and societies of men, is such as we find expressed in the collective wills of the different races and societies of men. The diversities of human character, will, or mind, are precisely analogous to the diversities of soil, climate, and other natural con- ditions ; and, in fact, to a very great extent, vary in accordance with the variations in those natural conditions. As, in different parts of the globe, we find those natural conditions to be different, 172 DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., SO, ill different parts or cllvislons of the human family, we find different general characters, habits, or wills. But those different natural conditions do not create themselves ; neither do these dif- ferent general characters, habits, or avills of men . The former are but the manifestations of Universal Nature in its purely physical aspects. The latter are but the manifestations of the same Uni- versal Nature in its psychological aspects. The different soils and climates of the globe, it is true, yield their diverse and appropriate fruits. So do the different national characters of men. " By their fruits ye shall know tlieni," was wisely spoken of both the ma- terial and spiritual world. But there is no free agency in either case. It would be about as wise to say that the soil and climate of a country are free agents, and self-created, merely because they creatively determine the character of its flora, as it would be to say that the "will of man, or the collective mill of any ^ociety of men, is free, or self-created, merely because it creatively de- temiines, as indisputably it does, the condition and destiny of men in this life. There is, therefore, no essential conflict between the idea of De MaLstre that man is essentially nothing, and that of Chalmers that he is virtually everything, in respect to his agency, or the part he plays, in determining his fortunes and destiny in this life. It is his \viLL — not indeed his merely momentary, or capri- cious will, desiring this or that, without any regard to reason, and without any fixed or definite purpose, but his settled and deliberate will and purpose — that will to which the Avhole conduct of his life is, in the main, conformed — it is this will that immediately determines his condition and destiny in life. But this will is not properly his own — not any more so, at least, than is any other part of his being, than is the shape of his body, the color of his hair, or the complexion of his skin. It is but a manifestation of Universal Nature, or of nature's God, in him, with which he has nothing to do, except to recognize the fact that such is his will, and to move forward, as he nalurally and instinctively does, to act out the suggestions of this will. What he emphatically resolves to do, even as an individual, but much more by far, what he era- § 7.] DE MAISTUE AND CHALMERS. 173 phatically resolves to do, as a mass, as any entire society, or any large class of any society, that he will assuredly do, in the main, and in the long run, provided, of course, it be conformable to reason, and within the ordinary bounds of human possibiliiy. But this resolve is no other than that which the laws of his being, under all the circumstances which surround and have surrounded him, constrain him to make — is no other, indeed, than the con- densed result of all those laws. With the quasi-attributes of a god, in the little sphere of his own activity, he avills and it is DONE. But the true God, that impels him, who governs and directs his will, is unseen, isenslirouded in a mystery not to be pene- trated by mortal vision, sits enthroned, amid the grandeur of uni- versal nature, incomprehensible to man, and describable to him, only as " the great first cause least understood." The collective will of society does, indeed, determine its destiny. But that collective will is but another name for the combined re- sult of all the laws of nature, in so far as they relate to man, and to that particular society of men. As the different races and nations of men do not give themselves their different colors or physical configurations, neither do they give themselves their dif- lerent characters, dispositions, or collective wills, although these characters, dispositions, and wills are, in some respects, more modi- iiable by circumstances than the purely physical characteristics, whence mainly springs the delusion as to free agenqj, in respect to those moral characteristics. Men do not create the complexion of their skins. Neither do they create the complexion of their characters. The complexion of the three great divisions of the human family, the white, yel- low, and black races, in respect to the color of their skins, is not more dissimilar than is the complexion of their respective charac- ters. The collective wills of these ditferent races, corresponding with their different general characters and dispositions, arc dif- ferent, and so is the general condition of society among them. Whatever that collective will may be, that avill determines the destiny of the society, and, to a great extent also, of the individ- ual. This is all that the idea of Dr. Chalmers asserts. It does not, indeed, fully assert so much, at least not distinctly or avow- 174 DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., ediy. But we are asserting his idea here, in its full and most en- lai'ged logical import, and to an extent to which he does not appear to have discerned its applications, and perhaps would hardly have dared to apply it if he had. But he is a poor phi- losopher who cannot safely carry forward the idea of an illus- trious predecessor beyond the narrow confines within which it was fii-st timidly asserted. § 8. The assertion of the idea which Dr. Chalmers has made is restricted, in its application, to the two main classes of society, the laborers and capitalists. It is not so enlarged as to embrace the ichole of society, on the one hand, or as minute a portion of it as the individual, on the other. Very obviously, however, the idea admits of both applications, although it may be, and un- doubtedly is, Avith diminished force, in so far, at least, as its ap- plications to the individual are concerned. Dr. Chalmers con- siders the idea only in respect to its eiFects upon the ivages of labor, and the profiU of capital. It is the collective will of the labor class, he very justly maintains, that determines the wages of labor, and it is the collective will of the capitalist class, that determines the rate of profit — the former by its agency in regu- lating the supply of labor, through its greater or less restraints on population, and the latter by its agency in determining tlie supply of capital, by its gi'eater or less restraints on expenditure, or un- productive consumption. If a people have such low ideas as to the dignity of life, such a low standard of comfort, such a despicable collective will in respect to their style of living, as to be willing to live on a few handfuls of rice per day, as in Plindostiin, then they will multi- ply their numbers in accordance with such low ideas, and the consequence will be that men will be worth, for the purposes of raw labor, only three pence per day ; such will be the rate of wages for raw labor, and the laborers will have oidy a few handfuls of rice per day to subsist on. If their collective will be such as we find it in Ireland, such that they are content to live on a few potatoes, then they will multiply their numbers accordingly, and the rate of wages will be so low that the common laborers will be § 9.] DE MAISTRE AND CHALMERS. 175 only able to procure a few potatoes for their subsistence. If, on the other hand, the collective will of the great body of the peo- ple be such as we find it in England, such that they Avill not live on anything less than beef and potatoes with a mug of ale per day, then the numbers of the population will be multiplied, or rather restrained, accordingly, and the wages of labor will be so high as to enable the laborers to have their beef and potatoes with their mug of ale per day. Such is the reasoning, and the veiy just reasoning, of Dr. Chalmers, somewhat more explicitly stated than he has stated it himself, in regard to the most important point for the welfare of society, the wages of labor. His reasoning is similar, though not so obvious and readily intelligible, in regard to the profits of capital. But it is time that we should consider this eminent author more particularly, on this important point, and hear from him in his own energetic words. § 9. The valuable work of Dr. Thomas Chalmers, " On Polit- ical Economy, in connection with the Moral State and Moral Prospects of Society,"* in which are embodied his valuable con- tributions to the Philosophy of Society, and which has been be- fore critically and somewhat thoroughly examined, as before stated, is most essentially a disquisition on Malthusianism, rather than on Political Economy. It may be most coi'rectly, as well as most essentially described, as a masterly demonstration of the futility of all expedients for the improvement of the condition of society, or rather of the poorer classes of society, which look merely to an enlargement of wealth, or the means of subsistence. It may be defined, in other words, to the same purport, as a ^triumphant refutation of the Politico-Economical school of Social Philosophy. In opposition to the superficial, sensuous, and grossly material views of this superficial and contracted school of Philosophy, he nobly asserts the great idea, which has been already so repeatedly set forth in the pages of the present work, that it is to an elevation of the moral status of the people * See Part V., Chap. V, 17G DE ilAISTIlE AKD CHALMERS. [Chap. IX., alone, tliat we can safely look for any permanent or reliable im- provement even on their mere material condition, or, as John Stuart Mill has expressed the same idea, it is only to remedies that " operate on and through the minds and habits of the people." It is while asserting that great idea, in various forms, in the course of his great work under consideration, that he incidentally, rather than directly, asserts the kindred idea now under particu- lar consideration, and which is, in truth, but the most fundamen- tal idea, or the same idea most fundamentally and essentially expressed. It is the collective will of society, and of each par- ticular class of society, that determines its condition and destiny. Therefore, and consequently, it is only by elevating that collec- tive will, or the ideas from which it results and which compose it — it is only by remedies addressed to that collective will — that we can accomplish anything permanently efScacious towards im- proving the social condition of mankind. This latter idea, in strict logical significance, is but a resultant, or coroUaiy, from the formei-. Yet it is the latter idea which Dr, Chalmers has more clearly discerned and most emphatically as- serted, while he seems to have only faintly discerned the former or more fundamental one, and has only feebly and somewhat timidly asserted it. Thus do we find again veiilied the observation which we have so often before had occasion to make, in the present pages, that mankind, in their progress towards the truth, in their advance in knowledge, always attain first the more superficial ideas, and afterwards advance, step by step, to the more funda- mental. § 10. The first distinct trace of the great fundamental idea in question, which may, indeed, be regarded as the great tap-root of the true Philosophy of Society, Dr. Clialmers presents to our view, in his Tliirteenth Chapter, wliich treats of emigration, that fruitful topic of speculation and declamation, on the part of su- perficialists, as to the po.s.sibility of evading the indi.E MAISTRE AKD CHALMERS. directly or indirectly, by their errors either of commission or omission, elect rather those unwise or corrupt men, and those unwise or corrupt principles that eventually bring down destruction on their own heads, of their own choice, and through their own folly. They are but philosophical recognitions and expressions of the great truth which has found its poetical rendition in the memorable words of Cassius in the play of Julius Caisar, " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves that vre are underlings. " They are but philosophical recognitions and expressions of the great truth which speaks to all nations, and to all men, whether individually or collectively considered, who are complaining of the faults of their government, or of their untoward fortunes, or hard lot in life, and admonish them, in the oracular words of Holy Writ — "pnysiciAN, heal thyself." CHAPTEE X. SISIIONDI AM) MILL— THEIR MOST ESSENTIAL CO!\TIlIBUTION TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIETY BROUGHT PEOSHNENTLY INTO VIEW. ^ § 1. Among the eminent contributors to the Philosophy of Society, whom the present century has produced, the two authors whose names comprise in part the caption of the present chapter, hold a deservedly prominent place. It is true that they have both written avowedly on Political Economy only, in those works in which their most essentially valuable contributions to that Philosophy have been rendered. But they have both risen above the low and contracted views of the mere Political Economist, and have both evinced a disposition — indeed, in some respects amenable to cen- sure — to exalt the mere science of Wealth, or Political Economy, as it has been commonly called, into the science of Sociology, or the science of Society in its largest and most comprehensive im- port.* Mill, in his work on Political Economy, has risen to the dig- nity of a Malthusian, of which he has approved himself one of the most meritorious exponents, nay, has risen even above that higher school of thought ; and Sismondi has not less risen above the views of both the Malthusian and Political Economist, although, upon the whole, not so valuable a thinker as his illustrious compeer. Mill has, indeed, entitled himself to give, and has prepared us to expect, something more than a mere treatise on Political Economy, in the valuable work which he. has presented to the world on that science, by the very title which he has prefixed to his work — " Principles of Political Economy, with some of their Applications to Social Philosophy," — and most creditably has he answered the expectations inspired by that title. Sismondi, while avowedly * For a criticism on both Sismondi and Mill, for this censurable disposition which thej' have manifested, see Part IV. of the series of which the present work is but the sixth part, or that which treats of the Politico-Economical System. 182 SISMONDI AND MILL. [Chap. X., writing on Political Economy only, has attacked that school of Social Philosophy — in so far as the Political Economists may be said to constitute a school of Social Philosophy — in its most vul- nerable point. He has expo;^ed the main fundamental error of that school of thought, and has, in short, completely subverted it, at the same time that he supposed he was advancing and pro- moting it. In this he has rendered a valuable service to the Philosophy of Society, and has, at the same time, inflicted a most disastrous, though well-merited blow, upon the pretensions of Political Economy, as aflfording the basis for a true system of Social Philosophy. In this double fact is exhibited, at once, the merit and demerit of Sismondi, the points in which he is entitled to commendation and liable to censure. § 2. Sismondi has clearly discerned, and emphatically an- nounced the great fundamental error of fixing attention on Wealth, rather than on Man, as do the Political Economists — in making "Wealth the primary object of consideration, and Man only a secondary object — in thus attaching more importance to the mere incident than to the principal, to a mere abstraction than to the true reality. Tliis is the great merit of his writings on Politi- cal Economy, which, most correctly defined and entitled, indeed, should be regarded as Disquisitions against Political Economy, or, at least, criticisms upon it. But he has committed the error of supposing that he was thus reforming Political Economy, instead of actually subverting it, in reference at least to the ends which he proposed, and to which he far more wisely directed his atten- tion, lie has not evinced the discrimination to discern that he was thus essentially directing his attention to the far more com- prehensive .science of Sociology, or to the Philosophy of Society, in its largest sense, to which the science of Political Economy is but an appendage, having, however, its own proper and important, tliougli subordinate and restricted province. Sismondi does not seem to have discerned that Political Econ- omy properly concerns itself only with the laws of wealth, and tliat the practical application of those laws to their true end — the promotion of the welfare and happiness of man — appertain to a § 2.] SISJIONDI AND MILL. 183 higher science, to the science of politics or statesmanship, in its largest sense, and to the yet higher science of Sociology, of which politics is itself but a subonlinate science, although of a higher grade, in subordination, than mere Political Economy. He does not seem to have discerned that the Political Economist who undertakes to concern himself with the proper applications of the laws of Wealth to the best interests of Men, although, indeed, undertaking a noble concern, and the true ultimate end, with reference to which all Political Economy should be prosecuted, transgresses, nevertheless, the proper province of his own peculiar science, as would the chemist who should undertake to make the laws of mechanical motion an appurtenance of his appropriate science, or the physiologist who should unnecessarily concern him- self with the laws of pathology, and even of therapeutics. And this is the demerit of Sismondi or the aspect in Avhich he is liable to censurable criticism in his wi'itings on Political Economy. Sismondi, therefore, was wrong in censuring Political Econ- omists for fixing their attention on Wealth, rather than on Man ; for that is precisely their very business — the very province of their science. But he was right, very right, and in a high degree commendable in asserting that they were censurable for supposing, as they seem generally to have supposed, that they were thus ac- complishing the great end to be aimed at by Social Philosophy, or even by mere statesmanship, when they were bestowing their at- tention merely on the abstraction called Wealth, and were learnedly expounding, in the abstract, the laws which regulate its produc- tion, distribution and consumption — for supposing, in short, that any very important progress toward the true ends of Social Phi- losophy could ever be made by a system of thought that fixes its attention primarily on Wealth, rather than on Man himself, in reference to whom, alone, Wealth has any utility or essential significance. Sismondi does not, indeed, so clearly or broadly assert this idea. But he so nearly approximates it, that, for most practical purposes, he may be regarded as having asserted it. In dealing with Sismondi, in this respect, as in dealing with Dr. Chalmers, De Maistre, and other illustrious authorities, we take the liberty 184: siSMoN'Di AND MILL. [Chap. X., of rendering his thoughts according to their most enlarged sig- nificance, and full logical import. In doing so, the author re- spectfully submits, that he is less liable to censurable criticism than those authoi-s — by far the greater number, if he mistakes not — who are for ever seeking to restrict, contract, or contort the views of others, in order to afford themselves a broader margin for cavillings, exceptions, and criticisms, and in order, as it would seem, that they may appear the more original, and all the more wise than their predecessors. Entertaining a very different disposition — setting out in his scientific and philosophical labors, from the veiy commencement, with the diametrically opposite policy — ambitious to coincide with anterior reasoners, as far as reason will allow, rather than to excite controversy with them — aiming at the abnegation of self, and the exaltation of humanity — fully impressed with the idea that what we most want in Science, and especially in this, the highest and most complex of all the Sciences, the Scienck OF Sociology, is a grand combination of efforts, a grand group- ing of many ideas into one consistent and harmonious system — the author is rejoiced to find other and eminent thinkers coinci- ding with his main fundamental views, or even approximating coincidence. Animated with this spirit and this purpose, he may be excused, it is hoped, for enlarging, ratlier than restricting, the views of his illustrious predecessors in this realm of thought — especially when he takes the pains, by ample quotations from those predecessors, of their own tlioughts in their own words, to afford opportunity, for every inquirer into these pages, to judge for himself how far, if at all, he has so enlarged the import of the ideas of those emi- nent authorities whom he quotes, and on whom he relies, in part, for the maintenance of that, at once, more enlarged and more consistent system of thought, which he proposes to introduce. Jt is to Sismondi that the author appeals, or rather refers, in vindication of his Third main proposition, as laid down in the Sixth Chapter, which asserts, substantially, that it is man him- self, and not his Government, nor any institution that he has devised, not his Wealth, nor any creation that is the work of his § 2.] SISMONDI AND MILL. 185 hand, that forms the true main object of scientific contemplation and regard, in every plan i'or the improvement of human society, or of the social condition of mankind.* AVhile the reasonings of many eminent thinkers all point in this direction, all tend to this conclusion, Sismondi is the only one, that the author has encoun- tered in his researches, so far at least as is now remembered, who has directly asserted this idea, or rather partially asserted it, with so much directness, and emphatic distinctness, as he has done. It will readily be seen, however, from the quotations we are about to make from Sismondi, expressive of his most essential renditions of this idea, that he has asserted it from the stand- point of the mere Political Economist, and consequently, not, by any means, with sufficient breadth and compass of thought. Not having been elevated quite enough, in his views of Social Philos- ophy, to discern that Political Economy is but a subordinate sci- ence to that Philosophy, and to the higher Science which it cradles, and towards which his own reasonings unconsciously tended — the Science of Sociology — not having discerned how very low and grovelling are the essential aims of the whole Polit- ico-Economical school of thought, he has not been able to divest himself of that contracted view of the real interests of human Society, which seems to be fundamentally and radically ingrained in all the reasonings of that school. For, although strongly tend- ing towards a higher system of thought, although unconsciously yearning for such a system, and although uttering truths that rose above the average level of the contracted viev»'s of the Politico- Economical system, he belonged, nevertheless, essentially, or at least fundamentally, to that system. The valuable idea which we here accredit to him was but a prominent and commanding ele- vation, rising above the average level of his views of the Philoso- phy of Society — a sort of isolated peak towering above the dead level plain of Political Economy, to which nearly all his reason- ings are fundamentally conformed. But let us proceed to ques- tion him more closely, and to consider his views on the point under consideration, as presented in his own words. * See Chapter VI., § 3. 186 SISMONDI AND MILL. Chap. X., § 3, The principal writinss of Sismondi — or of John Charles Leonard Simonde de Sismondi, as his biographers present his name to us in full — that have any direct relation to the Pliiloso- pliy of Society ai'e his " New Principles of Political Economy," first published in 1819, his "Disquisitions on the Constitutions of Free People," first published in 1836, and his " Disquisitions on Political Economy," first published, in the vohime form at least, in 1837, all in the French language. It is with the last of these works, containing bis latest and most mature thoughts, that it is proposed here to deal, although the ideas which it presents do not ditfer essentially from those of his foi-mer publications. Tlie most condensed and forcible expression of the essential idea which Sismondi constantly labors to illustrate in this work, and which it is here sought to bring into prominent view, is to be found, however, not in this work itself, but in a conversation which he had with Ricardo, the English Economist, at Geneva, in which he is reported to have exclaimed, " What, is Wealth, then, everything, and Man absolutely nothing !"* In this exclamation Sismondi strikes to the very heart of the Politico-Economical mode of regarding the interests of human society. This is just their very mode of reasoning, their domina- ting aim, their radical idea, graphically sketched, and presented to the view, by one stroke of the philosophic pencil of Sismondi. With them AVealth is everything, and Man absolutely nothing. With them the great question is not, how shall men be enabled to enjoy wealth — how shall they be enabled to possess a just and proper measure of those material comforts which constitute ^vealth — but it is simply how shall wealth be increased, or how, at most, shall wealth be regulated, without any reference to the question how far such wealth is to be really conducive to human good. It is against this false view of Politic il Economists that Sismondi has very justly levelled the shafts of his invective, and directed the powers of liis reasoning. Jiut let us inquire how he * See Enj^lish work, entitled, Political Economy and Philosophy of Goveni- ment, a Series of Essays from the works of Sismondi, p. 43. London Edition, 18-17. § 3.] SISMONDI AND MILL. 187 lias expressed himself, in reference to this point, in the more for- mal disquisition above referred to. In the Introduction to his Disquisitions on Political Economy, or Etudes sur L'Economie Politique, he says : " What, then, is tlieend of human society? Is it to dazzle the eyes by an immense production of useful and elegant commodities ; to astonish the mind by the empire which man exercises over nature, and by the precision and rapidity with which inanimate machines execute human work 1 Is it to cover the sea with vessels and the land with railroads, distributing in every way the products of an in- dustry forever increasing in activity ? Is it to give to two or three individuals in a hundred thousand the power of disposing of an opulence which would give comfort to all those hundred thou- sand ? In this case, we have, without doubt, made immense prog- ress, in comparison with our ancestors. We are rich in inven- tion, rich in activity, rich in scientific power, rich especially in merchandise ,• for every nation has not only enough for itself, but for all its neighbors. " But if the end which society ought to propose to itself, in favoring labor, and securing its fruits, should rather be to secure the development of man, and of all men ; to spread with a benefi- cent hand through the whole community, though in different pro- portions, the fruits of the labor of man, those fruits which we call wealth ; if those fruits, which comprise moral and intellectual as well as material benefits, ought to be a means of improvement as well as of enjoyment, is it sure that we have approached our ob- ject? Is it sure that in searching after wealth, we have not for- gotten the order and regulation of the house, and of the city, Political Economy?"* This passage, one of the most suggestive, pregnant, and valua- ble of all that Sismondi has furnished us, illustrates well his merit and demerit as a contributor to Social Philosophy, the truth and the error which his writings present. Most justly does he question the propriety of making the mere multiplication of com- * Etudes sur L'Economie Politique, Introduction, p. 19. Brussels Edition of 1837. 188 SISMONDI AND MILL. [CllUp. X., modities the main end of human society, and recommend that atlenlion gliouhl rather be directed to jikn, and tlie improvement oi" MEN. IJut he commits an error — an error tending to the con- fusion of ideas, in regard to the proper functions of the various social sciences — in suggesting that it appertains to Political Economy to concern itself directly or otherwise than incidentally alone with the improvement of men. Society ought, indeed, to propose to itself the noble end which Sismondi suggests, and that should be regarded in the largest sense, as its true end, or one of its true ends. But it should not seek to accomplish this end through the science of Political Economy ; for such is not the proper function of that science. It matters not what may be the philological import or original mean- ing of that term, on which Sismondi lays too much stress. It has come to imply a different idea. It has come to imply the com- monly received title of the Science of Wealth — of the science which treats of the laws of wealth, meaning thereby the natural laws of wealth — the natural laws in accordance with which wealth is produced, distributed, and consumed. This has come to be regarded, by the most approved thinkers, as the proper prov- ince of Political Economy, or of the science that has by common usage received that appellation ; and there is a propriety or neces- sity in that understanding of its proper function being strictly ad- hered to.* To aim directly at the improvement of mkn, or to aim directly at trendering the natural laws of wealth subser- vient to that end, appertains to the Tuekapeutics of Social Science, whereas Political Economy constitutes simply its Pjiysiology. § 4. Another criticism on Sismondi may be important here, the more especially as it will serve to bring more fully into view the * Of all the Economists, Nassau William Senior has most clearly and justly appreciated, and adhered to the true and proper function of Political Economy. He is the oounterpart or antipode of Sismondi in this respect. Perhaps we should rather say he is the antidote to Sismondi — to his diseased or distempered propen- sity to regard Political Economj- as the science of society. See the valuable work of Senior on Political Economy, in illustration. ;; 4.] SIS3I0NDI AND MILL. 189 wliole truth wliich he has but partially expressed. For this is tlic Lireat utility of criticism, that it tends more cleaidy and distinctly, by t"he contrast of views which it affords, to bring the real truth into view, and to impress it on the mind. In asserting the great truth, that the end which human society should propose to itself is the development of man and of all men, Sismondi does not ap- pear to have fully apprehended, by any means, the utility of this end, its vast significance and importance. In short, he seems to have discerned its utility simply as an end, without discerning also that it is, furthermore, a means to an end — a necessary MEANS to the very end which the Political Economists aim at, and with such an all-observing intensity of interest as to have pro- voked the just censure of Sismondi. He does not seem to have discerned the great truth, that, in developing man, as he recom- mends, we adopt the most sure bieans of developing wealth — that it is to the moral or intellectual nature of man that we must look for the security of his merely material interests — that, in short, MAN himself is the true fountain of wealth, and that it is by digging deeply into him that we most surely and most abundantly augment the supplies of wealth. This is the great truth which the author of the present work desires, here and elsewhere, to bring into clear, distinct, and prominent view, but which it may readily be perceived Sismondi has but partially and imperfectly expressed. This truth does not assert merely, as Sismondi has asserted, in the passage above cited, and as he merely asserts in all the other passages which it is proposed to quote, or nearly all, that wealth should be con- sidered only with reference to the gr-sat end of promoting the good of MAN, but that man himself should be considered with reference to the mere end of promoting wealth, with reference to the mere preliminary object of providing his means of subsistence — thus making man, as we have before said, " the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last," of all that concerns his social well-being or destiny of this life.* This great truth declares that if we would secure the very instru- * See Ante., Chapter II., § 4. 190 SISMOXDI AND MILL. [Chap. X., mentalities which we propose to employ for the good of man, we must direct our attention primarily to max, not less than ulti- mately. Do we wish to secure wealth for man, in order thereby to improve his condition, to elevate his moral and intellectual status ? Then we must look to man himself, aim from the begin- ning, by whatever means possible, moral or physical, to elevate his moral and intellectual status. Do we wish to secure good government for man, and that, too, in order to improve his condi- tion, to elevate his moral and intellectual status, which, Sismondi very justly reasons, should be the great end of human society? Then we must look to man himself, and aim, from the beginning, by whatever means possible, moral or physical, to elevate his moral and intellectual status. For by such means only can we make good government possible for man. Thus do we reason in a circle, and thus must we reason, in order to reason correctly. For all truth Ls circular — all motion is circular, moral as well as physical. The beginning and the end of all things is the same. Man is the end of all human improve- ment, and he is also the beginning of it all. lie is the true source alike of his moral and material prosperity. Let this great truth be really received and fully appreciated. It is high time that it had been. Often enough has it been asserted vaguely and imperfectly — loosely and disconnectedly. But it has never as yet been asserted as formally, emphatically, and authoritatively, as it should have been. Often enough has it been poetically asserted, and in the language of sentimental philosophy. But it has never as yet been scientifically asserted, or in the language of a truly z'ational or critical philosophy. Wie may be the less surprised, therefore, that it has not as yet been scientifically recognized, or systematically acted upon — nay, even reasoned upon. Nor is the great truth, thus incidenttdly expressed, inconsistent at all, as might appear, with the assertion just before made, that I'olitiad Economy, strictly speaking, has nothing to do, otherwise than indirectly, with the business of improving men, or with " the development of man, and of all men," as Sismondi has ex- pressed it. Political Economy, rightly understood, is a pa-sivc science, not an active one. It properly concerns itself only with §4.] SISMOXDI AND 311 FX. 191 the explanation of plienomena, not with the production of phe- nomena. If it has aimed at production, even of wealth, as it has done, almost all absorbingly, it has so far transgressed its true function, which is simply to explain the phenomena of pro- duction, and not less, also, those of distribution and consump- tion, lis proper office is simply to explain laws, natural laws, the natural laws of Wealth. It has nothing to do with the creation of laws. It has nothing to do with endeavors outside the laws of nature — if indeed the endeavors of man can be so regai-ded — it has nothing to do, at any rate, with the endeavors of man, by his own voluntary action, by his own laws, which ai"e properly, indeed, but secondary laws of nature, to influence the production of wealth, or its distribution, except simply to explain how such attempts will operate — what will be their probable effects — how far will they really tend to good, or to the end proposed. Assigning to Political Economy this function alone, restricting it to this, we yet accord to it a vast and varied and eminently in- tricate field of thought. Even thus restricted, it will be found a highly useful and noble Science, one of vast importance, and in- dispensable to the labors of the true Social Philosopher. With- out the knowledge which it is the office of Political Economy to impart, the Social Philosopher would not know how to advise on many important questions. Without such knowledge he might, under some circumstances, give eminently disastrous advice to mankind, who ought always to look to him for advice, instruc- tion, and guidance. For the Social Philosopher is the true King, to whom mankind should ever look for the guidance and direc- tion of their political, and, in a yet larger sense to speak, their social interests. Unhappily, it is too true, mankind are but little disposed to look in this direction for instruction or guidance, but little quali- fied, indeed, to do so, but httle qualified to appreciate either the counsellor, or the cor.nsel they would be likely to obtain from him. Much more prone are they to seek the advice of the shallow demagogue, the charlatan, the knave, or any one rather than the philosopher, or truly wise man. Occasionally, indeed, they take higher direction, as when they stumble upon the recognition of 192 SISMONDI AXD 3ULL. [Chap. X., an Antonine, au Alfred, or a Washington. But this is not often. Nevertheless, such men have more to do with the government of the world than is commonly supposed. Although too often ex- cluded from the world's august ceremonials, they may be com- pared, as Lord Bacon has beautifully done,* to the images of Brutus and Cassius at the funertd of Junia, of which, being ex- cluded from the procession, Tacitus splendidly says, eo ipso prcc- fulgehant quod non visibantur — for that very reason, because they were not seen, they shone with preeminent lustre. The silent and unseen forces of nature are greater than is ap- parent to the sensuous view. They are, indeed, ever the greatest. Nor is this, perhaps, less true of the moral than of the material world. Although the knaves and fools ostensibly govern the woild, for the most part, yet the counsels of the wise and good have really more to do with the world's government and destiny than may readily be believed or be apparent to superficial obser- vation. Let not the prosecution of knowledge or true wisdom, there- fore, be neglected. The teachings of true wisdom are not wholly lost. " Nothing is lost," says Carlylet — nor is the observation any less true than beautiful. But let us proceed with our en- deavor to rescue from loss, to preserve, and make manifest, the valuable thoughts of Sismondi. § 5. In the Litr eduction to his Disquisitions on Political Econ- omy, a few pages in advance of the passage just now criticised, he thus defines Political Economy, and thereby justifies the very same criticisms already pronounced upon his views : " That science has always had, and ought always to have, for its object, men collected together in society. Economy, according to the proper sense of the word, is the regulation of the house; Political Economy is the regulation of the house applied to the city. These * See Advancement of Learning, Book I. t See his Heroes and Hero- Worship. Lecture on the Hero as Poet, and par- ticularly in reference to the father of Burns, of whom he beautifully saj'S, that bis life was not lost, " for Robert was the outcome of him. " § 5.] SISJIONDI AND MILL. 193 are the two grand primitive associations that are the ol)jects of the science. All pi'oceeds from man, all should have relation to man, and to man united by some common tie."* Undoubtedly all should have relation to man ; and in so far as Political Economy may properly concern itself with any- thing more than the simple explanation of the laws of wealth, in so far as it may properly, or incidentally, concern itself with the ul- timate tendencies or applications of those laws, it should conform its reasonings to the suggestion of Sismondi in this passage. To that extent, undoubtedly, it has hitherto been greatly in error, except in the instances afforded by Sismondi himself. Mill, and a few others, who have manifested the commendable and justly ap- preciative disposition Avhich is here manifested by Sismondi. The strong disposition of Sismondi to direct philosophical at- tention to MAN himself, rather than to the mere abstraction called WEALTH, is again manifested in the following passage, from the Second Essay of the work under review : " If, instead of con- sidering abstractly wealth, production, consumption, exchange, we penetrate more deeply into the organization of society ; if we carefully inquire what it is tiiat produces, what it is that con- sumes; if we discriminate with a view to ascertain in whose hands the exchangeable commodities are to be found ; if we seek to know whether they are always those who have need of com- modities to exchange ; if, in fine, we have constantly before our eyes men, in their diverse%onditions, and not wealth, and still less the essence of wealth abstractly considered, we should not be em- barrassed with the difficulties or contradictions which we have ourselves created, we should not see any impossibility in the fact that extreme abundance may exist by the side of extreme indi- gence, and we should not deny, against the evidence, that the en- cumbrance of the markets and the very excess of production may become a cause of general suffering."! But it may readily be perceived that, in this passage, Sismondi proposes to consider man only in a politico-economical point of * Introduction to Etudes surL'Economie Politique, p. 3. Brussels Edition, 1837. f Etudes sur L'Economie Politique, Essaj^ II., pp. 79, 80. 9 194 SISMOXDI AND 3III.L, [Cliap. X., view, or with reference to explaining certain abstruse problems in Political Economy, as " the possibility of a imiversal or general glut" of the markets of the world, which Say, and some other economists have denied. He does not, hov/ever, always take such a contracted view of this paramount object. In his Fourth Essay, or that on the Expulsion of Cultivators, he speaks more nearly to the true point, where, in reference to the saving upon labor, as he terms it, by throv/ing men out of employ- ment, in order to procure cheap products, Avhich he notices in dif- ferent countries, he says : " While the Chreraatistic School* de- sires to save upon men in order to obtain wealth, we hesitate not to say that we ought rather to sacrifice wealth in order to have men. They will have a fine time in demonstrating to us that every one of the innovations which we have repudiated is more advantageous in that pecuniary point of view Avhich we will again repeat ; if it diminijhes the number of happy individuals, of in- tellectual and moral individuals living on a given space, it is bad ; and it is in this- point of view that we have combated, that we shall always combat that industrial system which has put human life at a discount. Nor can we let escape this occasion for making manifest anew how false is that system in even ad- mitting the barbarous supposition that we ought to calculate only profits and losses for nations, and not the life or happiness of men."t In the very first sentence of the Essay last quoted from, he more explicitly defines his idea of Political Economy than in either of the passages already quoted, which definition, indeed, should more properly have preceded our last quotation. " We have endeavored," says Sismondi, " to make intelligible the op- position of the two doctrines, the one which we name Chrematis- tics, or the increase of wealth, the other Political Economy, or the regulation of the house and city. The first proposes for its * This is the title by which he designates the school of Political Economy which he opposes, and whose leading idea, as he rightly asserts, is merelj' the increase of loeallh. t Same work, Essay IV., p. 111. § 5.] SISMONDI AND MUX ' 195 object to produce much for a good market, the second to dis- tribute labor and its products in a manner to assui'e the utmost possible welfare."* Neither one of these objects, it is again respectfully submitted, is the true object of Political Economy, rightly understood. Its object, we repeat, is, strictly speaking, simply to explain the natural laws by Avhich these two objects are to be attained. In so far, however, as Political Economists may transgress this proper limit of their scientific investigations — in so far as they may misapprehend that proper limit, and so transgress it — in so far as they may excusably, as Avell as naturally, be impelled be- yond the mere diagnosis of phenomena, the mere explanation of the modes or processes by which wealth is naturally produced, distributed, and consumed, and aim at ultimate ends, aim at the applications of those laws, with a view to the attainment of desir- able ends — so far it is undoubtedly true that the aim of Sismondi is right, and that of Political Economists in general, or of the Chrematistic School, as he is pleased to designate it, is wrong, or at least ill directed, delusory, and of but little signilicance. In his Fifth Essay, while descanting on the advantages of the British nation, and its deplorable destitution, in spite of its high civilization, its freedom, its religion, and its wealth, he thus de- plores that false system of reasoning which he so justly attributes to the Political Economists, in their ultimate aims, which loses sight of men, and looks only at wealth ; " Moreover, it is not the moral sentiments that are in default. It suffers from the effects of that inoui-nful theory "which it lias adopted for the increase of wealth, that mournful theory which has caused it to forget men for the sake of commodities." t Further on in the same Essay, and in the same strain, he thus bewails the same sj-stem, in regard to Ireland. " It is not, then, wealth that is wanting, nor knowledge, nor industry, nor example, nor (he encouragement that can afford great proprietors, nor the highest civilization and the protection of laAvs. The traveller * Same work, p. 1-iO. f S.uuo work, p. 1G9. 19G SISMONDI ANT> MILL. [Cliap. X-, who regards onlj things is everywhere struck with admiration : he who concerns himself with the kind of men experiences alto- gether either indignation, or the most dolorous jiity." * In illustration of the same idea, the opening words of Sismondi's Eighth Essay may be also worthy of quotation, where he makes this eminently just observation : " We have said, and we shall not cease to repeat, the prosperity' of a nation is to be estimated not by the mass of wealth accumulated on its territory, but only by the amount of happiness which that wealth distributes to all who compose the nation," — to which totally unexceptionable and eminently just observation, he adds this questionable one as ah'eady before shown — " The true aim of Political Economy is to assure such a distribution of wealth that all may profit by its advantages, although some may be more favored than otiiers." t This is the true aim of Sociology, or of the Philosophy of Society, or a part, and no trifling part, of its true aim, in which it should cheerfully accept any suggestions that the Political Economists may have to make, although, as before said, in mak- ing such suggestions they are assuming the office of something more than the mere Political Economist — that of the Social Philosopher. Not less worthy of citation and special consideration is the following passage in the same essay : " We have endeavored in the preceding essays to make intelligible the fatal consequences of those systems, which, without depriving the poor man of his liberty, yet leave him to struggle with the rich, and do not assure him any guaranty against an adversary' too strong. It behooves us not loss to make known the consequences of the system of slavery, a system tlie most gross, barbarous, and mournful in its effects, but which is only the application of tlie same principle, ' that states are enriched by producing more and spending less ; that they are enriched by all that they can save on the lal)or of the hand ; that they are enriched by extracting from laborers tlie most work possible for the least pay possible ;' that is to say, of * Same, p. 181. t Same work, p. 262. § G.] SISMONOI AND MILL. 197 the false doptnne that it is not man and the good of man that izovei'nments should aim to increase, but wealth." * § 6. The foregoing quotations are all, except the first, from Sismondi's " Etudes sur L'Economie Politique," and have been carefully translated from the original edition of 1837, by the author of the present work, which has appeared to him prefer- able to citing the original French, inasmuch as there are many English readers who do not read the French readily, or without some difficulty, if at all.f Two passages from another work, or article of Sismondi, on Landed Property, and translated by another writer, appear worthy of citation here, although substan- tially but repetitions of the same idea already so copiously illus- trated. But so important is this idea, so little has it been hitherto heeded in the reasonings of men, so difficult is it to induce men to take the really true view of things, tliat the author is unwilling to let slip the occasion of bringing to bear, in further illustration of his own ideas in part, the impressive and emphatic language of Sismondi, as contained in those passages. Will not the nations hear and heed these impressive words of Sismondi ? " The existence of civilization, the safety of the human race in this our ancient Europe, are closely bound to the triumph of this true Political Economy, both in public opinion and in legislation, to the development of that science which has for its object man, and not wealth, which asks how this wealth can be employed for the happiness and virtue of all, not how it can be indefinitely increased.";); That is precisely, or almost pre- * Same, p. 265. t iNIr. ]\Iill, in his work on Political Economy, however, quotes largely from Sismondi, in his own original words, a method from which the author of this work respectfully dissents. Difficult enough it is to induce men to read the truth, especially valuable truth, even in their own language. To expect them to tug at a foreign language, in order to get hold of it, is altogether out of the question. J See Revue Mensuelle d'Economic Politique, Februaiy, 1834, and transla- tion of same, in Political Economj'^ and Pliilosophj^ of Government, &c., of Sis- mondi, an English work published at London in ISi?, p. 158. 198 STSMosoi AXD MILL, [Chap. X-, cisely, the very science which the author of the present work pro- poses to inaugurate ; although he would not tei-m it Political Economy. But of that science, it is obvious to his mind, Sismondi takes too contracted and superficial a view — a view altogether too Politico-Economical merely. To the same point, but a little further on, in the same article, Sismondi speaks very well and impressively. " To endeavor to understand what there is yet to be done," he saj'S, '• to enable us to form some clear and simple ideas on the economy of the social state, we will fix on that condition among men which the new science has caused to deviate least from its former organization, that of cultivation We will look at the chreraatistic mode of considering it. We will afterwards ask what true Political Economy ought to do for it ; and though this be of all questions the most simple and the most clear in either form of this science, yet we shall soon see how different is their oV>ject, how opposite is the advice which they give ; and in treating of agriculture, we sball have occasion to set before us all the difliculties of the social state, which are aggravated by making wealtli the sole object of consideration, and which can only be removed by fixing our at- tention on men and not on things."* In this last passage, Sismondi comes more nearly up to the precise point, or the full measure of the idea which the author of the present work is solicitous to engraft on tlie thought and mind of the world, than in any of the preceding passages. He here loudly asserts that tlie difficulties of the social state can only be removed by fixing our attention on men*, and not on things. This is indisputably true. Hut little real progress will be made in So- cial Philosophy until we cease fixing our attention on the mere outward covering of man, in accordance with what Carlyle would doubtlessly term mere " Clothes Philoi;ophy,"t and fix it on man hiuiself — until we cease wasting eur strength on such abstract questions as how is wealth to be increased, or even distributed or consumed ? or how is good government to be secured for man- * Same, pp. lo8, 159. t See Carlyle 's Sartor Besartus. § 7.] SISMONDI AND MILL. 199 • kind, and direct it immediately to man himself? — until we so re- model our formulas of thought in Social Philosophy, that, in- stead of taking such shape as in those questions, they will rather be conformed to such questions as these — What kind of men have we to deal with here or there, and how far and in what way can they be improved ? — how far are they calculated to acquire wealth, to actualize a just distribution of it, and to use without abusing it ? — how far, moreover, are they calculated for good government, or rather for free government, so called, which seems to be the constant aspiration of the human soul ? — how much liberty are they qualified to enjoy, or how much can they use without abusing, to their own disadvantage or that of their neighbors 1 § 7. It is in accordance with such questions as these that the idea in question suggests, in part, the remodelling of thought and investigation in Social Philosophy. This is, as before said,* what we may regard as the Copeknican Idea of Social Philosophy ; and until thought and investigation in that philosophy shall be conformed to this idea, we shall make about as little real progress in it, as was made in Siderial philosophy until the Copernican idea of Astronomy had been definitively established and adopted. This, we again repeat, is the Coperxican idea of Social Phi- losophy. "What is the Newtonian idea, which the author of the present work is not less solicitous to engraft upon the thought and mind of the world, will be developed in a subsequent work, or the Seventh Part of the main work to which the present apper- tains. It will thus be seen that the author does not and cannot claim entire originality for the idea thus heralded to the world as the Copernican idea of Social Philosophy, however exclusively origi- nal it may have been with him. He is glad that he cannot. Pie gladly accepts the approbation, though but partial approbation, of such high and justly approved authority as Sismondi. Nor is he by any means thft only autliority that might be cited in support, * See Chapter VII. 200 SISMONDI AND MILL. [Chap. X., but only the most emphatic one, and the one who has moreover spoken most explicitly to the point. No real truth, no highly important truth, at least, is entirely or exclusively original with any one mind. Tlie Copernican idea in Astronomy had been before distinctly conjectured by Pythagoras, and partially approximated bj; other astronomers. Sismondi is but the Pythagoras of the idea in question — nay, he is but one of many Pythagorases. But he has been the most plainly spoken, at least, of those who have fallen under the observation of the present inquirer. It has been made sufficiently manifest, liow- ever, that he has but imperfectly attained to the idea, and has not fully compassed it. More ample demonstrations will be necessary in order to establish it. These the present inquirer proposes hereafter to give. The Egyptian astronomers knew that two of the planets, Mer- cuiy and Venus, revolved around the sun. But this discovery did not bring them to the full recognition of the great Coperni- can idea that they all revolved around the sun. Neither will the discoveries and demonstrations of Sismondi, valuable as they are, be sufficient to demonstrate the great truth, which he only partially approximates, that MAN is the true CENTRE of THE Social Universe, and that around HIM eevolves all HIS DESTINY. n. OF JOHN STUART MILL. § 8. The most essentially valuable thought wliich this eminent philosopher has contributed to the Philosophy of Society, is tliat which has been ah'eady so often before quoted that it may almost appear useless tautology to re})cat it here. It is that announced in his chapter on Popular Remedies for Low "Wages, which asserts that "No remedies for low wages have the smallest chance of being cffiicacious, which do not operate on and tlirough the minds and lial/its of the people."* It requires but a little enlargement of this assertion to render it expressive, in the most comprehensive form, of one of the * Sec Princi])le.s of Political Economy, Book II., Chap. XII., § 4, or Vol. I., p. 114, of P...stoii Ed., li^iH. § 8.] SISJIONDl AND MILL. 201 most important fundamental truths in Social Philosophy, The circumscribed asseition of Mr. Mill in the foregoing passage is nut any more true than is the more extensive and'eomprehensive one, that no kemedies fok any of the ills of human society HAVE THE SMALLEST CHANCE OF BEING EFFICACIOUS W^IHCII DO NOT OPERATE ON AND THROUGH THE MINDS AND HABITS OP THE PEOPLE. The former is, indeed, but a partial and imperfect ex- pression of the latter, and logically involves it. It may readily be perceived that this assertion of Mill, either in his own restricted words, or in the more comprehensive ones in which we have rendered it, is not only entirely in harmony with that of Sismondi, which we have just now been consider- ing, but that it is, in reality, only the assertion of the same idea in a more special form, and in more immediate reference to its practical applications. To assert, as Mill does, that remedies for sociiU or economical ills should be addressed to " the minds and. habits of the people," is evidently but to assert, in other words, and in a more definite, particular, and practical form, that they should be addressed, to the people themselves, or yet in other words, to MAN. Many similar assertions to this, in various forms, and in refer- ence to different phases of the social condition, are to be found in Mill's valuable work on Political Economy. But as they have been extensively quoted and. critically commented on in another work, which although not as yet before the public, it is hoped, may yet before very long be enabled to make its appearance, it would be unnecessary repetition to reiterate them here, the more especially as that unpublished work forms but a part of the Series to which this appertains, and in logical order precedes it. In the author's elaborate work on Malthusianism, as yet unpublished, and forming the Fifth Part of the Series, of which this is but the Sixth Part, he has somewhat thoroughly considered and illu.5- trated the valuable contributi<»ns of John Stuart i\Iill to the Phi- losophy of Society. For thuse contributions, as there and else- where asserted, are essentially Malthusian, and embrace what may be regarded as the most essential contribution of the ]\Ialdiu- sian fechool of thought to that Philosophy — which contribution, 9* 202 SISMONDI AND MILL. [Chap. X., as there and elsewhere repeatedly a?serted, is among the most valuable that have ever been made. For, as there and elsewhere stated, although the diagnosis of causes which Malthusianism pre- sents is veiy meagre and imperfect, its therapeutics is admirable and almost exhaustive. As the alchemists, although aiming at a very vain and frivolous idea, the philosopher's stone, nevertheless incidentally made highly important discoveries in chemistry, so the Malthusians, although aiming at the comparatively small, if not trivial idea, of merely restraining population within proper bounds, have made some of the most important discoveries, or rather suggestions, in the Philosophy of Society. Of those discoveries, or suggestions, which may be all embraced in the grand aphorism, so often before asserted in these pages, in one foi*m or other, til\t the moual STATUS OF MANKIND MUST BE ELEVATED, John Stuart Mill haS been one of the most distinguished and valuable exponents. This is the condensed essence alike of Malthusianism and of John Stuart Mill, most essentially expressed, in reference to their most essentially valuable contributions to Social Philosophy. So highly important, so preeminently important, is this idea, that although it more properly appertains to the anterior work on jMalthusianism than to this, which mainly aims at heralding only the more advanced ideas, than any which appertain to that school of thought, yet we cannot forbear here also repeating the idea. We should, indeed, present a ver}^ inadequate view of the Present Status of the Philosophy of Society, which the present work aims to give, if we did not present, if we did not bring prominently into view, this important idea. For this idea does not belong to the past only, but to the present, to the future, and to all time. It no longer appertains to ^Malthusianism alone, but to the Philos- ophy of Society. Into that, august philosophy it is henceforth to be incorporated, and will endure so long as man endures, or until his career on this planet terminates. Thanks to John Stuart Mill I — not less than to the Peverend 'J homas Chalmers ! — for the important part he has played in con- tributing to bring this great truth prominently into view ! Plow dillicult it is, alas I to effectuate this end — to bring the truth, § 9.] SISMOKUl AND UUJ.. 203 more especially the most essential truth, the most important truth, before the human view ! — in such a manner at least as to render it appreciable and rivet it in the human mind ! Ably has Mill contributed to this end, as may be seen in the pregnant passage here cited, as well as in many others not deemed necessary to be cited. And yet it is evident, from the immediate context of this passage, that his views are essentially Malthusian, and that the idea is promulgated by him with reference only to the contracted aims of the mere Malthusian. Thus, immediately following the passage quoted, in reference to " the minds and habits of the people," Avhich he so justly says must be operated upon, in order to remedy low wages, he con- tinues : " Whilst tliese are unaffected, any contrivance, even if successful, for temporarily improving the condition of the very poor, would but let slip the reins by which population was pre- viously curbed ; and could only, therefore, continue to produce its effect, if, by the whip and spur of taxation, capital were com- pelled to follow at an equally accelerated pace. But this process could not possibly continue for long together, and whenever it stopped it would leave the country with an increased number of the poorest class, and a diminished proportion of all except the poorest, or, if it continued long enough, with none at all. For ' to this complexion must come at last' all social arrangements which remove the natural checks to population without substituting any others."* § 9. In other respects also, as well as in respect to the idea above considered, the views of Mill bear a near resemblance to those of Sismondi. Like him, although not with the same degree of earnestness, he deprecates the undue importance generally attached by Political Economists to the increase of production, and recommends attention rather to improved distribution. Thus, he says, in the Seventh Chapter of his Fifth Book : " The ob- servations in the preceding chapter had for their principal object to deprecate a false ideal of human society. Their applicability * See work before cited. Same Book, Chapter and page. 204 sisMOXDi AND 31ILL. [Chap. X., to the practical purposes of present times, consists in moderating the inordinate importance attached to the mere increase of pro- duction, and fixing attention upon improved distribution, and a h^rge remuneration of lalx)r, as the true desiderata."* In some other respects his views transcend in sagacity, or a just discernu-cnt, those of Sisniondi. For Avbile Sisraondi, like nearly all French thinkers, belongs to the school of Social Philosophers, who, speaking at once most essentially and sententiously, aim at the complete merging of the individual in the society, Mill far more justly belongs to the school whose aim, most essentially ex- pressed, is to secure the eventual triumph of the individual over society. This is manifest, not only from the whole scope of his rea- sonings in the work on Political Economy, but also, and still more so, from those of his later work on Liberty. Nevertheless, in the Fifth Book of his Political Economy, which treats '• Of the In- fluence of Government," he lays down, with singular justness and perspicuity, some of the many important qualiiications of this idea, or the Laissez Faire doctrine, as it is designated by Political Economists, to which their doctrine is subject. §. 10. This disquisition on the most essential contribution of Mill to Social Philosophy should not, perhaps, be closed without noticing the somewhat more than faint trace, discoverable in his writings, of an eminently valuable idea, never as yet so pi'om- inently set forth as to warrant us in accrediting it to any au- thority, although more nearly approximated in full, as we shall hereafter show, by the great American statesman, Daniel 'Webster, than by any other. The idea is that the most essential natuue OF THE EVILS OK BAD GOVERNMENT IS UNCERTAINTY. Faint recognition of this idea, partial approximations to it, arc indeed to be detected in very many reasoners. But the recognition of Mill is somewhat more explicit than the average of such recognitions. He says, in one of his chapters on Taxation : " Over-taxation, earned to a sufficient extent, is quite capable of ruining the most * Same, Vol. II., p. 318. § 10.] SISMONDI AND MILL. 205 iiuliistrious commiinity, especially when it is in any degree ar- bitrary, so that the payer is never certain how much or how little he shall be allowed to keep."* In this passage, however, Mr. ]\Iill does not show any more just perception of the essential mis- chief of UNCERTAINTY, in the action of government, than does Adam Smith, Avhom he quotes in the same chapter, and who says, " The certainty of what each individual ought to pay is, in taxa- tion, a matter of so great importance, that a very considerable de- gree of inequality, it appears, I believe, from the experience of all nations, is not near so great an evil as a very small degree of un- certainty. "t Neither Adam Smith nor Mr. Mill has had the boldness to assert the truth which they have thus feebly expressed, so tersely as it may be expressed in the sententious aphorism : — It matters not what the tax may be, provided only it be certain and fixed, so that we may know what it is, and that it is not to be capriciously or suddenly raised. So stated, indeed the aphorism would not be strictly true, but would need one important quali- fication, namely, that the tax be not so great as to paralyze industry, by leaving it no margin for profit, and, consequently, no motive for exertion. But so stated, it wouid be more likely to arrest attention and awaken some more just ideas as to the true Philosophy of government and society in the stolid brain of the world. The unqualified and exaggerated statement of principles has this utility, that it tends to bring them into recognition, when otherwise they would remain unrecognized. This has been the case, no doubt, with the important principles involved in Malthu- sianism. If Malthus had stated those principles with their proper qualifications — if, in other words, he had stated them with entire correctness, it is veiy questionable whether they would have been particularly noticed, or would have influenced materially the course of human thought. But, stated in the exaggerated and * Same work, Book V., Cb. VII., § 7. t Wealth of Nations. Book V., Ch. II. 2()G Slt-MONDl AND Mll.L. I'.ighly overdrawn manner in which he has stated them, they have been forcibly impressed upon the attention of mankind, and, by the controversy, discussion, and investigation to which they have civen rise, have vastly improved the thought of the world in re- gard to the Philosophy of Society. CHAPTER XI. OF COUSIN AND BUCKLE, AND THEIR MOST ESBiilNTLVL CONTRIBUTION TO SOCUL PHILOSOPHy. § 1 . In coming to question these two great thinkers, we come to strike a higher and grander note in the vocalism of thought than any we have as yet sounded in our special examination of illustrious authorities. In these two transcendent geniuses, the human intellect towers into the majestic, the grand, and the pre- eminent. Not only is the particular thought presented to view by their reasonings more important, but it is associated alto- gether with a higher and grander system of thought — clearly and distinctly appertains to a higher and grander system. In communing with these transcendent thinkers, we almost forget, indeed, that we are communing with men, and feel as if we were holding converse with a higher order of beings. As between Sismondi and Mill, and as between Guizot and Hallam, so, likewise, a near resemblance exists between Cousin and Buckle, both in respect to the character of their thoughts and the stand-point from which they are developed. Both have writ- ten essentially on the Philosophy of History, and both have evinced some misapprehension of the essential character of their own writings, by the titles which they have respectively bestowed on them. Cousin has entitled his work, here to be considered, " Introduction to the Plistory of Philosophy," when it should rather have been entitled, Introduction to the Philosophy of His- tory. Buckle has entitled his, " History of Civilization in Eng- land," when it should rather have been entitled, Philosophy of History, as illustrated rao\je particularly in the Histories of Eng- land, Scotland, and Spain. Both have subordinated facts to ideas. Both have questioned history to ascertain what ideas it represents. Both have thereby rendered their works essentially disquisitions into the Philosophy of History, and have, moreover, rendered them splendid illustrations of what human history should be. 208 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Clu\p. XI., lioth sugge-t, as do, indeed, Guizot and Ilallam, already noticed, the propriety of thi'owing aside such windy, verbose, and inconse- quential histories a;^ those of Livy, Gibbon, and JNIacaulay, nay, as even Tacitus, Hume, and Prescott, and substituting in their stead Cousin and Buckle, and histories conformed to their mode of considering the phenomena of human development. One important diiference is noticeable and noteworthy, between Cousin and Buckle. Cousin is more purely philosophical in his mode of considering the development of humanity, or rather more exclusively absorbed with ideas. Buckle is more practical, and deals more with facts. The diiference in this respect is, indeed, precisely what we might expect to find between a Frenchman and an Englishman, and illustrates well the characteristic differences between the two nationalities. Cousin is entirely carried away with the ideas — with his theory — presents but a meagre an-ay of facts, in illustration of the ideas, and shows a constant disposi- tion to shape the facts to suit the theory, rather than to shape the theory to suit the facts. Buckle, on the contrary, although far bolder in thought than is common Avith Anglican thinkers, dis- plays a commendable caution in dealing with his theorj', and, while he brings forward, prominently and often grandly, his ideas, he does not fail to sustain them with an ample array of facts. He thoroughly baptizes his ideas with facts. Nay, he pours forth a flood of fiicts delightfully refreshing to the thirsty mind, and all the more appreciable, impressive, and interesting, because exhib- ited to view in illustration of the idea or principle which they represent, or, at least, seem to represent. Cousin is too metaphysical, deals too much with the higher ideas. Buckie confines himself far more to the realm of the physical, and deals almost exclusively with the more practical ideas. Upon the whole, his is a far more valuable, more labori- ous, and more meritorious work. Both are, however, emmently valuable works, the one for the higher order of minds, the other, only for the highest. The work of Cousin presents an eminently philosophical view of the Philosophy of History — that of Buckle an eminently practical view of that Philosophy. i^ 2.] COUSIN AND UUCKI.K. 2 § 2. In bestowing such high praise on these two transcendent geniuses, we should not, perliaps, omit all retercncc to their obvi- ous faults, although our object here is not so much to present a general criticism upon them as to note their specially valuable contributions to Social Philosophy. Cousin, like nearly all Frenchmen, is altogether too dogmati- cal, and, what is scarcely less objectionable, altogether too mathe- matical. Like nearly all Frenchmen, he carries his mathematics into the domain of Ethics and Sociology, where it is utterly out of place, at least so far as human observation and human rea soning are concerned. A striking exemplification of this mathematical exactness, as well as dogmatical audacity, Cousin affords us in many of his startling annovmcements, and particularly in that where he says, " The government of this world is perfectly just ; prosperity and misfortune are distributed as they ought to be ; prosperity is awarded only to virtue ; misfortune is inflicted only on vice. I speak generally, and saving exceptions, if such there be."* Doubtlessly, this observation of Cousin is true, in that enlarged and transcendental sense in which the poet sometimes speaks, in that sense in which Pope has spoken, where he says, " This much is sure — Whatever is, is right." But for all the practical purposes of human life how grossly false is the assertion ! What a mockery of the truth does it present ! How does it appear be- fore the notorious truth, which finds its poetical expression in the famous line — " Man's inhumanity to man makes countless mil- lions mourn," or that great truth which finds its expression in that other not less famous exclamation of the great poet — " that estates, degrees, and offices Were not dei-ived coiTuptly ! And that clear honor Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! " Had Cousin merely asserted that there is a constant tendency in human affairs to the ultimate triun)ph of justice, despite in- numerable violations of the principle — had he merely asserted, * Introduction to Ilistorj' of Philosophy, as translated by Linberg. Lecture IX., p. 283. Boston Ed., 1832. 210 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [CllUp. XI., that, for the most part, on the general average, and in the long run, " prosperity is awarded only to virtue, misfortune is inflicted only on vice," he would doubtlessly have made an unexception- able observation, and announced an important truth, not gener- ally received, or, at least, duly estimated. No such gi-ave or vital error can be imputed to Buckle. He never outrages common sense. If not so transcendcntly great a thinker as Cousin, he does not even so far transcend the bounds of propriety. Although he is bold and dogmatical, far more so than might be expected of an Anglican mind, his dogmatism sel- do!!i if ever transcends the bounds of propriety any farther than a philosopher may excusably do, when strongly urging important truths not commonly received, or strenuously endeavoring to overthrow long established and widely prevalent errors. The only error that it is proposed here to note in Buckle is of this kind. It consists in the disrespect, bordering on contempt, with which he generally, if not habitually, speaks of the clergy, or priestly order of society. While attacking the errors of which they may justly be regarded as, in a large degree, the shelter and refuge, if not, indeed, the school and nursery, he is altogether too unqualitied in his censure and denunciation of that order. In iiis indignation for their errors, and the wrongs of which tlicy have been guilty, he seems to lose sight of the great truths which they have represented, and the great benefits which they have conferred. The evils which the priestly order of society — of Christian society, as well as of every other — have inflicted, are obvious enough. The far greater evils from which they have saved us are not so obvious. Of these Buckle does not appear to have taken due estimate. Nay, had he even attentively scruti- nized the list of distinguished contributors to Science, and the cause of human advancement, his attention must have been ar- rested by names that would have tended greatly to mitigate the severity of his censure against this order. For, among a multi- tude of others, he would have discerned, in conspicuous letters, the illustrious names of the lleverend Thomas Mallhus, and the Kcverend Tliomas Chalmers. § 3.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 211 § 3. The resemblance between Cousin and Buckle does not consist alone in the general cliaracter of their works, here spe- cially referred to, but also in the specific ideas, of essential value, which they have contributed to Social Philosophy. Both have given distinguished prominence to one and the same great funda- mental idea in that Philosophy — the idea already often before an- nounced in these pages, and wliicli has been laid down in our Sixth Chapter, as the Fouutu of the Seven main fundamental propositions that have been heretofore, in one form or other, dis- connectedly thrown out by eminent minds. This idea is that Avhich substantially asserts that, " It is the Natural Environ- i\iENT of man, mainly in respect to climate, soil, and geographical configuration, that primarilij determines, to a great extent, if not exclusively, or mainly, his real character, and therefore, second- arilii, determines the character of his political institutions and social condition." This is the only idea of vital importance in Social Philosophy to which Cousin has given prominence. Buckle, however, has given distinguished pi'ominence not only to this idea, but to the not less important and intimately related one, already noticed in De Maistre,* as to the paramount importance and supremacy of NATURAL LAAVS in human affairs, or, to speak witli more definite meaning and philosophical accuracy, as to the paramount impor- tance and supremacy of the primary laavs of nature, in human affairs, as contradistinguished from the merely secondary laavs of nature, which the laws of man, so called, constitute in part, and to which so much undue importance is attached by superficialists and juvenile philosophers. Nor is the resemblance between these two illustrious authors confined only to their agreement in giving distinguished prominence to the influence of natural environment on human destiny. It is observable also in their failure to recognize the importance, we might say, the still greater importance, at least the more funda- mental importance, of Race, or that inherent predisposition Avitli which a man or nation of men is born into the world. * See Chapter IX. 212 COUSIN AND r.UCKLE, [Chap. XI.^ § 4. Victor Cousin, one of the most brilliant lights that lias ever illuminated the world of thought, in his Lecture-s, entitled Introduction to the History of Philosophy, delivered at Paris in 1828, with his characteristic terseness, boldness, and dogmatical emphaticness of speech, says: "Yes, gentlemen, give me the map of any country, its configuration, its climate, its waters, its winds, and the whole of its physical geography ; give me its natural pro- ductions, its flora, its zoology, and so on, and I pledge myself to tell you a priori what will be the quality of man in that country, and what part its inhabitants will act in history."* Nowhere has the important truth in question been expressed with more emphasis, with less qualification, or in a manner more calculated to arrest and fix attention than in these emphatic words of Victor Cousin. The only criticism to which they are justly liable — except in regard to the somewhat arrogant assumption of the ability to predict, a 2'>riori, what the character of a people will be, from its complex natural surroundings, after the pretentious manner of the quacks in phrenolog}^ — is that they omit all ref- erence to the more fundamental and paramount influence of Kace, or Ethnological Influences. A philosopher makes a poor exhi- bition of his fagacity when he tells us that he is able to predict, a priori, nay, that he can even explain it, a posteriori, from the mere physical geography of the two countries, " what will be the quiflity of man," in such a country as sublimely mountainous Switzerland, or monotonously level Holland, without any regard to the primitive quality of the men settling in those countries — with- out any regard to the question whetlier tliey are of the white race, the yellow-skinned race, or the black race — without any regard, -in short, to the question whether they belong to the horse type, the zebra type, or the donkej) type of the human genus. Couj-in would have a lively task in attempting to demonstrate, that a colony of Guinea negroes, or North American Indians, can- toned among the Alps for a tliousand years, or even two thousand, would exhibit the same state of society that we now find among * Introduction to History of Philosophy, as translated bj' Linbcrg. Lecture VIII., p. 210. Boston Edition of 1832. l'^ 4.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 213 the hardy, intelligent, and virtuous Switzcrs — that thej would liave built the fine city of Geneva, and be making the finest chro- nometers of the world. This oversight is the more remarkable in Cousin, even than in Buckle, in whom we have to note the same highly culpable omis- sion. For Cousin was one of ttie very deepest of thinkers — a deeper thinker by far even than Buckle, although, and perhaps on that very account, in part, not uniformly expressing himself witli so much circumspection and propriety. Cousin was highly meta- physical, and of the very highest school of metaphysics. He was of that school which subordinates matter to mind, which gives pre- eminence to mind in everything — nay, which has some faint rec- ognition of the great idea of the homogeneousness, the sameness, the oneness, so to speak, of the intelligent principle, of the identity of the Divine and human, of God and man. This idea is conspicuous in nearly all the writings of tins transcendent genius, althougli moi-e especially in his psychological writings. All his writings are, indeed, to some extent, psychological, although his Elements of Psychology are more especially so. Cousin does not, indeed, fully assert the idea of the identity of the human and Divine, nor does he very boldly assert it in so far as he asserts it at all* For he is guilty of the common folly of imputing something to the personality of man, not recognizing fully the grand truth that man is but one of the manifold phases of Nature, or of Universal being — but a part of one and the same grand machinery. He merely asserts that our reason is not our own, and plainly intimates, although lie does not so directly assert, that it is but an extension of the UNIVERSAL REASON. Strange that he had not the sagacity to discern that our passions, oar wills, not le.'s than our bodies, are no more so. But perhaps he did not deem it prudent or wise to indicate all he saw. Perhaps, indeed, it would not have been wise or prudent to do so. He wrote and spoke in the earlier pai't of the NINETEENTH CENTURY. The philosopher may speak some- Avhat more plainly in the latter part of the century. The human mind has advanced a step or two within these few past years. Demigods have spoken in these latter days- Conspicuous among 214 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. Cluip. XT., thorn sfjind Victor Cousin and Henry Thomas Buckle — pre- eminent Victor Cousin. § 5. Strange, it must appear, that impressed, even to a partial extent only, as Cousin evidently was, with the identity of the hu- man and Divine, with the idea that man is in reality and not in mere name — not in mere sectarian cant — the offspring of Deity — that his nature is the Divine nature, not indeed in its highest type, but only in one of its infinitely various types, all harmonized into one grand and consistent Unity — strange it must aj)pear, that, discerning all this, he did not attach more importance to the influence of Ethnology, of Eace, or of that Divine nature with which a man, or a nation of men, is bom into tlie world. If man does indeed come into the world animated wilh Deity, surely that which lie thus brings with him into the worP must play an important part in hLs action and destiny here. If, as Cousin eveiy where intimates, and seems to believe, this Divine principle is paramount, then this influence which a man brings with him into life, this portion or type of Divinity which he has within him, must be of paramount importance, as it is undoubtedly of most fundamental importance, in moulding his destiny in life. The superlicial idea, which even some g;reat philosophers still persist in adhering to — apparently even Cousin and Buckle — that Race, or natural inherent predisposition, is of but little influence on national destiny — that it is of subordinate influence to physical causes, as Buckle maintains — nay, that it is but the mere creation of external causes or conditions of some kind or other, as Herbert Spencer ridiculously asserts — this superficial idea is virtually but the idea that matter is paramount to mind. It is but the grossly sensuous idea that mind is a mere appendage of matter, rather than matter a mere appendage of mind — that mind is, forsooth, as some P'renchman has a.^serted, a mere " secretion of the brain," rather than the counter idea, which is much more philosophical, or at least philosophically plausible, though hardly less false, perhaps, that matter is a mere effusion of mind — the brain a mere ex- crescence of thought. It belonjis to the same low and vukar school of thought. As § ().] COUSIN AND DUCKLK. 215 such it comports veiyAvcll wilh the low and sensuciis fumlamcntiil ideas which doiuinate, i'or the most part, in Anglican thought. Hut it is altogether out of place in that higher system of meta- physics and fundamental {)hiIosophy which dominates in German thought, and of which Cousin is one of the most brilliant expo- nents, and one of the very few that France, still more sensuous than England, though not so superficial, has ever produced. II. HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE. § G. Of all the eminent thinkers who have attempted to educe (»i-der out of the chaos of human history, who have endeavored to .subordinate facts and events to the ideas which they represent niid from which they spring, who have undertaken closely and ciitically to question history, in order to ascertain, as far as pos- sible, what it signifies, and to classify and systematize events ac- cording to the ideas which they signify, or appear to signify, Henry Thomas Buckle is, beyond all question, the most illustrious and eminently meritorious. Others may have been more learned, others have been more profound, but none have been, no one has jiroved himself, at once so learped, so profound, so just, and so practical. He has struck the happy mean between the intensely philo- sophical, and altogether too condensed, too abstract view of human di;velopment, which Cousin presents, and that excessively diffuse, bewilderingly miscellaneous and almost totally inconclusive, if not meaningless view, which Macaulay, Gibbon, and historians of that old, and we may hope now antiquated, school present. He has presented to the human race, at one and the same time, one of the most splendid productions of the human intellect, and one of the most valuable works ever deposited in the archives of human science. It is not, however, for the purpose of dilating on the general merits of this matchless production of genius and learning that we here bring it under brief review. Our object is merely to empha- size, and bring more distinctly and prominently into view the valuable ideas in Social Philosophy which it represents, with some 216 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Clmp. XI., incidental criticisms on its omissions, or im^ierfections of rca.soning in regard io that philosophy. § 7. The most fundamental idea of Cuckle's great work on the History of Civilization, its most general and comprehensive idea, is, that human actions, not less than the movements of the ex- ternal or material world, are governed by fixed and regular laws. It is the idea, somewhat differently stated, of " moral neccs-ity," so called, as contradistinguished from "free agency," as com- monly undei'stood. This momentous idea, so extensively revolu- tionary in Ethics and Criminal Jurisprudence, not less than in Theology and fundamental Sociology, is now cropping out in every direction, from the higher plane of thought into which the human mind has been uplifted by the slow upheaval of centuries, and is grandly conspicuous in the reasonings of Buckle. It is tlie same idea which we have already noticed in De Maistre, and shall have occasion presently to notice in Comte and Spencer. It is, in short, the Copekxicax Idea of universal Psychology, as we have already designated another and less general, less fundamental idea, the Copernican Idea of Sociology. It is the great revo- lutionary idea to which all reasonings will have to be ultimately conformed, alike in Theology, Ethics, fundamental Sociology, and Criminal Jurisjirudence, before we shall be able to reason cor- rectly on any of those extensive domains of thought — nay, before we shall be able to uegix aright with our scientilic labors or in- vestigations. Just as all investigations in Astronomy were incon- clusive and barren of results, before the Copernican idea liad been adopted, so have all investigations and reasonings, hitherto, in Theology, Sociology, and their subordinate domains of research, been inconclusive, unsatisfactory, and barren of results, because they have not been conformed to this great truth, which finds one of its most comprehensive, extensive, and practical illustrations in the reasonings of Buckle. § 8. Until this great idea of the fixity and uniformity of human actions, or i-athcr of the laws of mind, as well as of matter, from the joint and complex union of which human actions solely origi- S 0.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 217 nate, shall have been adopted, let it be i-epcatcd, no important results can be attained either in speculative or practical Sociology — nay, we shall not be able even to begin aright our investiga- tions. For here again we have to note the momentous truth — so often before coming into view in these pages, or rather in the scries to which these appertain — that the most fundamental truths come last into view. Yet these are the very truths, without the knowledge of which Ave cannot even begin aright our scientific reasonings or investigations. Hence it follows, startling as the jiaradox may appear, that the last thing we learn in any science is liow to begin our studies. Hence also follows the yet larger truth, that we have to finish our work before we know rightly how to l)(>gin it — a truth, alas, of which we find but too melancholy an illustration in the conduct of life. For it is only when we have finished our earthly career, it is only at the end of the longest hu- man life, that we come to learn, and forcibly to realize, how we ought to have begun it. Paradoxical and startling as may be the assertion, this is the truth — subject, of course, to some important qualifications — the last thing that we learn in any science is how to begin our studies in relation to it. For when we have learned this, then do we loam that little or nothing remains for us to learn, or rather that Ave can ever learn. For, still more startling as the paradox may ])c, it is, nevertheless, true, in the main, that when we have learned how to begin our studies, then do we discover that they are at an end, or for the most part at an end ; that is to say, in otlier words, then do we discover that we have gone as far as we can possibly go — that we have attained the utmost limit of our Unite poAvers — that we have reached the ultuvia tiiule of the hu- man understanding. § 9. Such is the paradoxical laAV of mental progression. When Ave have attained the most ftindamental truths attainable by hu- man intelligence, Avhen we have thus learned, and for the first time, how to begin our investigations in any science, then do we learn that we have reached the utmost limit of human investiga- tion, that we can go no further, that we can only go back, and 10 218 COUSIN AND BUCKT.E. [Chap. XI., recast, or more correctly systematize our views — oftentimes com- pletely reverting our former ones. The last thing that we discover in any science is generally, if not universally, some fundamental truth which is an ultimatum of the human understanding, and which admonishes us that we can go no further in that direction. No science is ever duly organized or systematized until it has attained to some such ultimate truth, and has been constructed or reconstructed accordingly. The attainment of these ultimate truths generally discloses, in clear view, the ver}' limited extent of human intelligence, and, still more, of the powers of human achievement. They generally make manifest how httle we can know, and how much less we can do. Hence it is that true philosophers, the really deep thinkers, who have attained these ultimate or most fundamental truths, are al- ways distinguished by humility and moderation of purpose. They are too strongly impressed \ni\\ the feebleness of human effort, either to know or to do, to admit of their being otherwise. Hence it is that when we come to ascertain the most funda- mental truths in Social Philosophy, we come to discern how little — how next to nothing — it is that human agency" can do, of its concerted design, or voluntary effort, so called, towards con- trolling or modifying the course of human events. For then we come to learn that human affairs are governed by fixed and in- evitable laws, not lets than the affairs of the external world — by the fixed and inevitable laws of mind and matter, of psychology and physiology — by laws as fixed and inevitable, however much more complex and various, as those which wheel the jolanets in their spheres. § 10. It is only the mountebank, the charlatan, the rjuack, or, at best, the dreamy, visionary, and puerile philosopher, that aspires to accomplish anything, nay, that dares even hope to ac- complish anything for human society, beyond that necessary in- fluence, indeed, which the diffusion of knowledge, or correct opinions, gradually and in process of time produces, as seed cast upon the ground spi-ings up and yields a vegetation that, in course § 10.] COUSIN AXD BUCKLE. 219 of time, reacts upon and modificp, to some extent, the soil in which it grows. Ask the mountebank, the superficial prattler about social re- form, nay, even the amiable visionary, like Robert Owen, or the transceuflental lunatic, like Fourier, what they propose to do for human society, and they will promptly display their superlicial knowledge and reasoning, by telling you of the wonderful things they are going to accomplish, if society can only be prevailed upon to swallow a box or two of their wonderful pills, charged with the true el'ixi?' of social life. Ask an Owenite what it is that he proposes to do, and he will tell you he proposes radically to reform human society and hu- man nature itself, by a radically different system of education, by one conformed to " the all-glorious science of the influence of circumstances over human character" — nay, so radically to reform human character, " that not an inferior human being shall be formed, at maturity, to walk the earth, or disturb the universal happiness of man, or his progeny, in whatever country or clime he may be found."* Ask a Fourierite what it is that he propose^ and he will tell you he proposes to bundle up the whole human family into a mul- titude of small packages, not to exceed 810 each, all to be en- closed in one common workshop, of many and various different compartments, and that thus he will actualize for men on earth that harmonic state which has been long enjoyed by the " har- monized planets," but which, by some ill luck or other, has been hitherto denied to tlie denizens of this less favored orb.f Ask the true Social Philosopher what it is that he proposes to do for human society, and he sorrowfully replies — Nothing — Nothing, at least, except to explain law^s — to explain laws, tl;e undei'standing of which, ^once established in human minds, w'iil in- deed become new laws of themselves — necessary laws — laws hav- ing as necessary and inevitable an influence on human affairs, as * See Robert Owen's Book of the New Moral World, Part II., Cli. IV., p. 59, First American Edition, 18i5. t See Fourier's Passions of the Soul, as translated by Morrell, 220 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Chap. XI., a new planet introduced into the solar system would exert upon the existing ari'angements of that system. § 11. This is the idea, for the most comprehensive, enlarged, and extensively practical expression of Avhich, hitherto, Social Philosophy is indebted to Henry Thomas Buckle — the idea of the fixity and regularity of the laws which govern human affaii'S. He does not, indeed, like Comte, deliver over human society entirely to Physiology, thus rendering Sociology but a convertible term with " Social Physics," but he justly delivers it over to laws not less fixed and regular, however much more complex and various — to the conjoint influence of the laws of Physiology and Psycholog)'. This is the great merit of Buckle. It is his most fundamental idea, and his most valuable, most VTnexceptionable,'and unquali- fiedly correct idea. His somewhat less fundamental or more par- ticular fundamental idea is not so unexceptionable, not so correct. It is that which we have just now observed so conspicuously mani- fest in Cousin, namely, that it is the natural environment of man alone which determines his action and destiny. Buckle, like Cousin, thus takes notice only of the fundamental PHYSICAL influences that operate on man, but not of the fundamental PSYCHOLOGICAL ones. He does not notice the important influence, in truth, the paramount influence of Race, or those psychologi- cal TENDENCIES with whicli a man, or nation of men, comes into being. In other words, he notices only the influence of the out- ward surroundings of man, and takes no notice of man himself — totally ignores man — as a fundamental cause, wlien he is, in truth, the most fundamental of causes. He forgets, as have all, or neai'ly all, who have hitherto reasoned on these momentous themes — nay, even those who have had the sagacity to recognize the important influence of Pace — that mind has its own inherent vitalities, forces, and tendencies, not less than matter, — and that the individualized as well as composite types of mind ai*e as various as those of matter — differing from each other, so far as the utmost capacities of psychological analysis, of psychological chemis- iry, so to speak, have as yet gone, as do the various elementaiy phys- ical substances — diiFcring as widely as do the fund amental metals § 12.] COUSIN AN!) BUCKLE. 221 — as widely as do iron, lead, platinum, mercury, silver, and gold. He forgets the great truth which finds its expi'ession in the grand words of Milton, the full import of which the great poet himself perhaps did not fully recognize — " The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." If the mind is thus its oavn place, has it not also its place in the grand economy of causes or influences operating to deter- mine the social destiny of man ? If the difterent minds, or rather orders of mind, that appear in the world, are, in themselves, as diflferent as are the fundamental metals of the material world, is it not a great error to omit all estimate of the fundamental dif- ferences between them ? Is it not preposterous, nay, ridiculous, to suppose that the iron of the mind can be converted into silver, its lead into mercury, or its platinum into gold, By different ma- terial conditions ? Is it not quite as preposterous and ridiculous as to Suppose that the iron, lead, or platinum of the material world can be so changed or modified ? § 12. The reasoning of Buckle on this point is not less illogical and inconsistent than it is essentially superficial and defective. It is illogical on its own face, and inconsistent with itself — thus show- ing, again, and as so often before shown, how slow and apparently reluctant is the human mind to march up to the whole truth, how it shirks and dodges before it will dare advance right on to the truth, and boldly clutch it. We find this propensity here illus- trated in one of the boldest and greatest of thinkers. Buckle virtually admits the influence of Race, or, most essen- tially to speak, of psychological influence, on human destiny, not less than physical influence — nay, he lays it down explicitly in his premises or fundamental propositions, and yet totally ig- nores it in his inferential reasonings, or practical applications of these fundamental propositions. Hear him, for example, in the very first chapter of his great work : " And as all antecedents," he says, "are either in the mind or out of it, we clearly see that all the variations in the results — in 222 COUSIN AND BUCKLE, [Chap. XI., other words, all the changes of which history is full, all the vicis- situdes of the human race — their progress or their decay, their happiness or their misery — must be the fruit of a double action ; an action of external phenomena upon the mind, and another action of the mind upon the phenomena. " These are the materials out of Avhich a pliilosophic history can alone be constructed. On the one hand, we have the human mind obeying the laws of its own existence, and, when uncon- trolled by external agents, developing itself according to the con- ditions of its organization. On the other hand, we have what we call Nature, obeying likewise its laws ; but incessantly coming into contact with the minds of men, exciting their passions, stimulating their intellect, and therefore giving to their actions a direction which they would not have taken without such disturb- ance. Thus Ave have man modifying nature, and nature modify- ing man ; while out of this reciprocal modification all events must necessarily spring."* Excellently well said. No one could have expressed it better. Thus has Buckle laid down, in brief outline, the two great funda- mental ideas, that lie at the foundation of the whole Philosophy of Society — the ideas of man and his environment. Had he strictly adhered to both of these two fundamental ideas, in all his subsequent reasonings, he would have presented a wholly unex- ceptionable view of the Philosopliy of History, which is obviously but one phase, the di/nainical phase, of the Philosophy of Society ; 01-, perhaps we should rather say, one aspect of the dynaimcal phase. But he has not done so. Unconsciously to himself, very evidently, he has dropped out of view one of these ideas — the idea of MAN himself, or of those fundamental psychological eokces that are enveloped in man, Avhich find tlieir scientific designation in the term Race, or Ethnological Influence. This omission is tlie great error of his work. It is this omis- sion from the consequences of which he is constantly embarrassed in his endeavor to explain the phenomena of History. Tlius we find him repeatedly emphasizing the fact that the English mind is * Ilistory of Civilization, Vol. I., Chap, I., p. 15, New York Edition, 18C3. ' § 12.] COUSIN AND DUCKI.E. 223 inductive, ami the Scotch dedactive,* which he feebly attempts to account for by the only modifying influences which he funda- mentably recognizes, that of external agencies, but evidently with- out fully satisfying even himself. Thus we find him, too, as before noticed, t greatly embarrassed to explain the marked difference between the course of events in Spain and Scotland, notwith- standing the resemblance which he asserts in their physical sur- roundings, and in their mental proclivities in respect to " super- stition," which he attributes to that resemblance in physical surroundings. Surely Mr. Buckle could not have experienced any difficulty in explaining these diverse phenomena, if he had only recognized the manifest truth, impliedly laid down in his own premises, that Scotchmen are, by nature, different from Eng- lishmen, and Spaniards different from both — just as John is, by nature, different from William or Thomas — -just as a horse is different from a zebra, or donkey, and as gold is different from lead, or iron. Does not this mode of explaining the variations in question follow, indeed, from Buckle's own premises, as laid down in the passages just quoted ? If, as he says, " we have the human mind obeying the lawy of its own existence, and, when uncontrolled by external agents, developing itself according to the conditions of its organization," has not the mind of John or William, or Tliomas, if you please, the laws of its own existence % — has not the mind of Scotchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards, respectively, its own peculiar laws ? — has not, in a yet wider import, the mind of Hindoos and Europeans respectively, nay of Ethiops, Mongols, and Caucasians? Can we expect that a horse, zebra, or donkey will be anything else than a horse, zebra, or donkey, no matter what may be the climate or other physical surroundings in which he may be placed % Wonderful, indeed, is the modifying influ- ence of climate on some forms of animal life. Wonderful is the difference between the Arabian horse and the little Shetland pony. But that little Shetland pony is a horse, in spite of his diminu- * See particularly Vol. I., Chap. V., pp. 177-8, New York Edition, 1863. t See Chap. VI. 224 coupix AND BUCKLE. [Chap. XI., live size, and nothing more nor le.ss than a horse. You can make nothing else out of him but a horse, except indeed by crossing him with a donkey or zebra. Do we expect to make gold out of lead ? Or do we expect to make a philosopher out of a fool, or a fool out of one of Nature's own nobility ? Has not Nature her nobility, and also her innate plebeianism ? Is not one man as superior to another as gold to lead or iron ? And does not this diversity extend itself to nation- alities and groups of nationalities ? What, indeed, is diversity of Race or nationality but individual diversity of character ex- tended to nationalities and races ? What is a nation but aa enlarged family ; and what is a Eace but a group of such families ? Does any one doubt that distinc- tive peculiaiities distinguish certain families, in every society, who have long intermarried within certain genealogical circles ? And why should not such peculiarities extend themselves to a nation, or a gi-oup of nations, as the Teutonic, Celtic, or Sclavonic, which we designate as different races? What, indeed, is a nation, most essentially considered or defined, but a group of mankind, that has long intermarried within a certain circle of affinities ? As smaller circles of affinities have their distinctive peculiarities and diversities, why should not also the larger ones? § 13. It would be supei-fluous to quote any of the many preg- nant passages which Buckle affords, illustrative of the great in- fluence which external circumstances, or Physical Geogi-aphy in its largest sense, exerts on human character and destiny. It would be merely to repeat substantially what we have already cited from Cousin,* who has, in the passage so cited, expressed the idea as comprehensively and forcibly as it admits, only too much so indeed, or too unqualifiedly, as we have before re- marked. Some passages, from this brilliant author, expressive of the more general and more fundamental idea, of which this is but a more particular and less unexce[)tionable statement — the idea as to the regularity and fixedness of the laws which govern human * See § 4 of tliis Cbaptcr. § 14.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 225 actions, we oannof, however, refrain from quoting here. It will l)e ?ecn that they are entirely in harmony with the ideas of Con- fucius, Solon, Guizot, Plallam, and De Mai.stre, already noticed, and that they are only more emphatic, more copious, more en- larged, and, at the same time, more particular, more practical expressions of the same great ideas. It will readily be seen how the reasoning of this gi*eat philosopher, in common with that of those other illustrious sages, rebukes the folly and presumption of those little minds that aspire to regulate human affairs by merely human laws. It will readily be seen how it rebukes the restlessness of those pestiferous little busy-bodies — who, like the little waggle-tails that inhabit the mud-puddles are for ever switching and fiirling around in the muddy pools of political legis- lation, thus stirring np the effluvia that too often tend to vitiate the health of society, and who vainly imagine that their petty little performances ai'e seriously to affect the great movements of the world. § 14. In the opening words of his Sixth chapter, Buckle says : *' I have now laid before the reader an examination of those con- spicuous circumstances to which the progress of civilization is commonly ascribed ; and I have proved that such circumstances, so far from being the cause of civilization, are at best only its effects, and that although religion, literature, and legislation do undoubtedly modify the condition of mankind, they are still more modified by it."* This, it may be seen, is identically the idea of Hallam, in almost identically the 1same words, as to the Feudal System, that it was the effect rather than the cause, as commonly supposed, of the distracted condition of European society, while it flouri.^hed. To the same point Buckle says, in the preceding chapter to that just quoted from, in reference to the rulers of states, Avho are commonly supposed to effect so much for society, " Such men are, at best, but the creatui-es of the age, not its ci'eators."t To the same point, he says, in his chapter on Spain, "To * Vol. I., Ch. VI., p. 209, New York Edition, 18G3. t Same, p. 197. 10* 22G corsiN axd buckle. [Chap. XI., seek to cliange opinions by laws, is worse tlian futile. It not onlv fails, but causes a reaction which leaves the opinions stronger than ever. First alter the opinion and then you may alter the law. As soon as you have convinced men that superstition is mischievous, you may with advantage take active steps against the classes who promote superstition and live liy it. But how- ever pernicious any interest or any great body may be, beware of using force against it, unless the progress of knowledge has pre- viously sapped it at its base, and loosened its hold on the national mind."* What a lesson and rebuke does this passage admin- ister to certain shallow politicians in America, who, by their reck- less disregard of the wisdom it suggests, have deluged their countiy in blood, and overwhelmed it with debt! It is to the same point precisely that he speaks, when he says, a little farther on in the same chapter : " No reform can pro- duce real good unless it is the work of public opinion, and unless the people themselves take the initiative. "t Eminently just and true is this assertion, and entirely in harmony with all that we have before laid down as worthy of acceptance in Social Philos- ophy. Entirely in accordance it is with the great idea so promi- nently dwelt upon by Sismondi, although only in a Politico-Eco- nomical point of view, and which we have designated as the Copemican Idea in Social Philosophy, that it is to man himself that we must look, primarily and fundamentally, in all our reason- ings and endeavors in regard to the improvement of the social condition. "What a rebuke, too, does this passage read to many of the restless reformers or revolutionists of the world! If the people must themselves take the initiative in all reforms, why constantly seek to excite them to insubordination, or precipitate them into crises that may compel them to revolution, or violence of some kind, against the existing order of society? It is very seldom that any real good comes of such endeavors, or any good that fully conij)ensates for what it costs. For all truly great reforms wo * Same, Vol. II,, Ch. I,, p. 91. t Same, p. 103. § 15.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 227 must await the gradual maturing of the harvest of those more cor- rect ideas which the superior intellects of the world have sown in the popuUir mind. We must wait until the fruit is ripe before we shake the tree, in order to gather in the crop. § 15. The foregoing passages, it may readily be discerned, do not so directly or immediately illustrate the idea that human affairs are governed by uniform and fixed laws, as the idea that they are governed by deeper and more fundamental laws than those of positive human enactment. But indirectly they illus- trate that idea. For it is precisely because those laws are uni- form and fixed, or, in the same sense that the laws of nature, as commonly understood, are so — it is precisely because those laws are but ramifications of the fundamental Laws of Nature, that they lie beyond the reach of control by human legislation, and in reality determine that legislation, to a much greater extent than they are determined by it. Nowhere has this important truth, so little understood, or generally entertained, been more clearly or admirably expressed than it has been by Buckle, not only in the passages already quoted, but more especially in this, where he says: "The truth is, that every institution, whether political or religious, represents, in its actual working, the form and pressure of the age. It may be old ; it may have a venerated name ; it may aim at the highest objects ; but whoever carefully studies its history, will find that, in practice, it is successively modified by successive generations, and that, instead of controlling society, it is con- trolled by it."* It is but in illustration of the same idea, from a practical stand- point, that our author says, in the very next page : " But the aristocracy of Scotland little knew the men with whom they had to deal, still less did they understand the chai'acter of their own age. They did not see that in the state of society in which they lived, superstition was inevitable, and that, therefore, the spiritual classes, though depressed for a moment, were sure speedily to rise * Same, Vol. II., Ch. III., p. 183. N. Y. Edition of 1869. 228 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Chap. XI., again. The nobles had overturned the Cliurch ; but the princi- ples on which Church authority i.s ba.'-ed remained intact. All that was done was to change the name and form. A new hiei'archy Avas quickly organized, Avhich succeeded the old one in the atfec- tions of the people."* § IG. This great idea, which the author of the present work is solicitous to stereotype, if we may so speak, in common Avith some others, upon the mind of the world, cannot surely need any fur- ther illustration or vindication than is afforded by the following passage, and the last that it is proposed here to quote from this preeminently great thinker, and admirably just delineator of truth. Speaking in reference to the undue expectations, which were entertained by many, from the downfall of Popery in Scot- land, he says : " But what was forgotten then, and what is top often forgotten now, is, that in these affairs there is an order and a natural sequence, which can never be reversed. This is that every institution, as it actually exists, no matter what its name or pretence may be, is the effect of public opinion, far more than the cause, and that it can avail nothing to attack the institution unless you can change the opinion. "■!■ Here again we find the gi'eat truth expressed by Hume coming into view, that "all governments are founded in opinion." So consistent is truth, so do many concurring Avitnesses testify un- consciously to the truth of some new system of thought, long be- fore ideas have been sufficiently developed or matured to organize that system, or to comprehend it in all its bearings. § 17. Before taking leave of this great and eminently instruc- tive reasoner, it may not be amiss to pass one other criticism upon his reasonings, somewhat more fundamental than either of those already pronounced*— a criticism the more important because it must tend to bring into vjew a gieat truth, almost totally unre- cognized as yet, even among our greatest thinkers, despite the fre- quent symptoms discernible of an unconscious gravitation towards « The same, p. 184. t Same, p. 182. § 18.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 229 it. That criticism is, that he does not appear to recognize the identity of the hiws of Man and the hiws of Nature. He adheres to the old notion of an antagonism, or, at least, essential ditTercnce,- between man and nature, which is but a counterpart, or rather a mere extension of the stupid old idea in Theology of an antago- nism, nay, a constant antagonism, between God and man. Buckle has shown a great advance, indeed, beyond vulgar and commonly received ideas, in distinctly recognizing the truth that human actions are governed by laws not less fixed and regular than those Avliich govern the external world ; than those, in short, which he, in common with the superficial reasoners, styles, par excellence, laus of Nature. But he has not advanced quite far enough to discern that those laws — the laws which govern human actions — are themselves laws of nature, and that the true desig- nation of the one class of laws, as contradistinguished from the other, is to be found in styling the one class, the primary laws of Nature, and the other, the secondary laws of Nature. We shall presently see that Comte has come to the distinct recognition of this great fundamental truth, although he has not so distinctly or lucidly expressed it as might be desired. Herbert Spencer, too, as we shall presently see, has very nearly attained to th-e same idea, notwithstanding the weak and puerile views expressed in his Social Statics, Avhich may appear incon.-istent with that higher and grander system of reasoning to which this great truth leads, and specimens of which he has abundantly exhibited in other of his reasonings, on the Philosophy of Society. § 18. Not only is it true, as Buckle has so splendidly illus- trated, that human actions are governed by laws not less fixed and regular, however much more complex and modifiable, than those which are commonly styled Laws of Nature, but those laws are themselves laws of nature, forming but one branch or division of those eternal laws. The movements of human society are but a part of the movements of the universe, of the movements of uni- versal nature. Those movements are regulated partly, and to a very great extent, nay, to the greatest extent, by far, by t!ie primary laws of nature, just as are the movements of all organic 230 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Cliap. XI., life, and partly by the sccondan/ laws of nature, wliicli tlic po- called voluntary or intentional activity of man, and the laws of man, commonly go called, constitute. All the legislation of man, and all the adjudications of man, taking the form of binding law in human society, are most essentially considered but secondanj laws of nature. And here we may detect one of the most fundamental distinc- tions, as it is the most truly philosophical one, between the Science of Political Economy and the Science of Politics, Avith the whole system of jurisprudence, which it comprehends. Political Economy is founded on the primary laws of nature, rightly con- cerns itself only with the pr{7nar>/ laws of nature, while Politics, with its handmaid Jurisprudence, is founded on the secondary laws of nature, or the laws of nature as they manifest them- selves through the reasonings and so-called voluntary activities of man. And here again we discover renewed justification of om* criti- cism on Sismondi, in respect to his misapprehension of the true province of Political Economy, and his dispot^ition to consider it as a science which rightly concerns itself with the modifications which the legislation of man may produce on the natural laws of wealth, or with the voluntary endeavors of man to insure any particular distribution of wealth. For, in so doing, he was endeavoring to make Political Economy concern itself with the secondary laws of nature, when its true office is to concern itself > only with the 2vimary laws of nature — when it is, rightly con- sidered, the mere physiology of Social Science, not, to any extent, its tiierapeutics. § 19. Great as is the advance which Buckle has made in reasoning on the Piiilosophy of Society, let it be again repeated, he has shown a serious lack of discernment in not advancing still farther, in not advancing to the discovery that the laws which govern human society, even the positive laws enacted by its formal legislation, are, in themselves, laws of nature. To this truth, with all its kindred and intimately affiliated truths, the human mind must advance, before it can organize a sound or true system § 20.] COUSIN AND lircKr.E. 231 of Social riiilosophy, or Philosophy of any l-cind. To this truth, and to all those great kindred truths, it is evidently lending, and to thcni it must ultimately attain, and at no distant day. The old idea as to an antagonism, or even any essential differ- ence, between man and nature, nay, between God and man, will have to be abandoned, and we shall have to come to the clear and distinct recognition of the identity of all substance, except t!ie two grand fundamental and elementaiy ones — mind and MATTER. These are the only two essentially different substances, discernible to man at least, in universal nature. These are the two great principles, the male and female principles, from the mystic union between which has been born all organic life. The former of these principles finds its grandest expression in the name of God, to which all men, in one form or other, render homage. The other lies open to the view in every sensuous form. Man, like every other organic being, is but a product of the mystic union between these two principles. He is only tlie highest product, or highest known product, to which that union has ever yet given rise. In his intellectual or psychological nature he represents the one principle, in his physical he represents the other. His mind is but an extension, or rather extenuation, of the mind of God. His body is but an extension, or attenuation and refinement, of matter. § 20. We may exclaim against these ultimate fundamental postulates, and fancy that they are profane. We may call them Pantheism, Spinozaism, or, if we please, the doctrines, substan- tially, of the Sooffee philosophy of Persia, regarded as infidel, of course, by the Mahometan Doctors of Divinity. It will only show, perchance, that Pantheists, Spinozaists, and the Sooffee j)hilosophers of Persia, have been hitherto deeper thinkers and more correct metaphysicians than ourselves. For to this com- plexion it must come at last, in spite of alt our attempts to blind- fold or to hoodwink our reason, and in spite of "all that saint, sage, or sophist ever writ," to the contrary. The human reason will eventually assert its divinity, by coming to the recognition of its divine origin and nature, to the recognition of its essential 232 COUSIN AND BUCKLE. [Chap. XI., divii)ity, and the identity of tlie human and Divine, not less than the identity of man and all the other forms of nature. May we not indeed already detect in the grand and holy faith of Christi- anity a partial and imperfect recognition of this truth, and accept the character and life of Jesus, as a beautiful allegory, if not, in- deed, an actual manifestation, of the substantial identity of the human and Divine ? "NVe have said already, that, if the true secret of the universe should ever be disclosed to human view, it would probably be found to rest upon a series of mathematical propositions.* May we not carry forward the suggestion yet a little farther, and venture to assert that the universe may be illustrated, in its fundamental relations, by the right-axoled triangle, of which God repre- sents the square described upon the htpothenuse, while man and nature respectively represent the squares described upon the other two sides? Thus, although the august form of God, if form we may venture to assign to Him, is totally unseen by human vision, yet his dimensions may be taken by the infallible calcula- tions of mathematics. For we have the dimensions of man and nature, or rather of man and the remainder of nature, Avho com- prise the two smaller squares of the right-angled triangle. The dimension of God we may know, therefore, for it is, by the hypothesis, precisely equivalent to the sum of these two squares — is precisely equivalent to the conjoint dimensions of man and nature. § 21. It would be both interesting and instructive, to draw more largely from the pages of liucklc than it has seemed accord- ant v/itli tlie aims of the present work to do. Kegretfully we take our leave of him, and still more regretfully at the thought that he htus so soon taken leave of the world. Ilis career was sorrowfully brief, though transcendently brilliant. Like a new and unexi)ected visitant of our Solar System, from the unknown realms whence come the comets, like a comet of extraordinary magnitude and splendor, he blazed upon the world, unannounced, in his transcendent work on the History of Civilization. But while the world looked on, with admiration and wonder, expect- ♦ See ante, Chap. IX. § 21.] COUSIN AND BUCKLE. 233 itig to see liim sliine witli yet greater splendor as he advanced to ] lis perihelion, and hoping to enjoy long the brilhant light of his penius, as he should slowly, and in the ordinary course of nature, retire towards his aj^helion, his career was suddenly arrested, and the light of his genius extinguished, leaving the world again to mourn the brevity of human existence, and admonishing it most impressively how insignificant is the part that any one mind is permitted to play in the grand economy of universal being.* * Henry Thomas Buckle died at Damascus in Maj', 1862, aged only 40 years, and only some four or five years after the publication of his immortal work. CHAPTER XII. OF COilTE AM> SPENCER, AND WHAT THEY HAVE DOXE FOR THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOdETY. § 1. At the head of the cohiran of most advanced thinkers, or, rather, of most enhirged thinkers, in Social Philosophy, stand undoubtedly Auguste Ccmte, and Herbert Spencer — the one a Galilean, the other an Anglican author, and each illustrating well, as do most of the authors already contrasted, the character- istic differences betv/een the two ordei"S of thought which respect- ively distinguish the two nationalities. These two are among the latest, as they are among the most advanced, or most enlarged thinkers, that have thrown light upon this, the highest and most diversified field of Philosophy. Unlike the other writers who have been considered, Comte and Spencer have addressed their reasonings directly to the Philosophy of Society, Avhile the otiiers have only incidentally thrown out their valuable ideas. On this account their reasonings should be the more entitled to particular consideration. "While the points of dij^similarity, nay the lines of demarcation, between these two eminent thinkers are obvious enough, tho-e of resemblance are still more obvious and important, in respect, at least, to their mode of reasoning on the phenomena of human society. § 2. Both of these great thinkers have regarded the phenomena of society as merely a part, or branch, a higher branch only, of the phenomena of tlic universe.^ Both have regarded human society in connection with universal nature, and as governed by the same general and universal laws, slightly modified only, which govern all the lower forms of nature. Both have regarded the physiolog}'' of society as but an extension of the physiology of the individual — the body politic as organized upon the same type with the animal body. Both, in short, have regarded the science of human society as resting upon the pedestal of universal science, and have thus illustrated, to a greater extent than any other COMTE AND SPENCER. 235 Iviiown autborities, the sixth of our seven main propositions,* in regard to the Philosophy of Society, that are as yet recogniz- able in the thought of the world. § 3. Both Comte and Spencer have subordinated Politics to l>tliics, and have looked to a more improved system of morals for a more improved system of society, in which respect they have but reasserted the idea of Confucius, as already shown f For this is essentially the philosophy of Spencer, as shown by his work on Social Statics, although, in his order of classifying, or considering the sciences, as announced in the prospectus of his disquisition on universal science, now in progress of preparation, in separate parts, he places Sociology before Morality. Both have been guilty of the error of overestimating greatly the expectations that may reasonably be enterttiined from any such source. Both seem to have anticipated some radical improvement of society, "the re- generation of society," as Comte styles it, from this source. Comte avowedlv aimed " to construct a system of moi*ality under which the final regeneration of humanity will proceed. "J Nor does Herbert Spencer appear to have aimed at anything less in his Social Statics, or rather his disquisition on the perfect stand- ard of morality, misnamed " Social Statics." Both these eminent reasoners seem to have forgotten how diffi- cult it is to reform men, or to drill them into the true rules of morality. They both seem to have forgotten that there is no diffi- culty in teaching men morality — that the only difficulty is in pre- vailing on them to practise it. They both seem to have forgotten the truth announced by Cousin, that "the first man was as much in possession of them as the last comer into the human family" § — a remark manifestly applicable to the great moral truths which form the ba.sis of a true system of morality. They both seem to have forgotten that Jesus of Nazareth, the greatest and most impressive of all moral teachers, attempted to improve * See Chapter Sixth. f See Chapter Seventh. J See Comte's General View of Pcsitivisni, as translated by Bridges, London Edition, 1865, p. 48. § Cousin's Introduction to History of Philosophy, Lecture II., p. 38. 23G C03ITE AND SPEKCER. [Chap. XII., the morality of the world, by the most powerful incluceraent? that can opei-ate on men, the transporting hope of Heaven and the terrific fear of Hell, and that he has signally and lamentably failed — except indeed to a very partial and limited extent. § 4. Both Comte and Spencer have recognized the great truth that it is the man that makes the government, not the government that makes the man — that the goverament of a state is but the natural outgrowth of the existing condition of the society. Nay, they have both given great prominence to the idea. They would be undeserving the high rank we have assigned them, had thoy failed to do so. § 5. Both Corate and Spencer have recognized the increa.=ing importance of the individual, as contradistingui.shed from the society, as civilization advances, and have thus illustrated forcibly the SEVENTH of our seven main propositions. On this point, however, a marked difference is noticeable between the two reason- ers, precisely illustrative of the characteristic dfference, in this respect, between the Galilean and Anglican orders of mind and disposition — a difference in the main, or fundamentally, to the credit of Spencer. For while Comte, in common with nearly all Frenchmen, inclines to that system of thought which rather seeks to subordinate the individual to the society, nay, to mei-ge the individual completely in the society, despite his recognition of the essential tendency of human progress in the opposite direction, Spencer manifestly belongs to the directly opposite system, which seeks to secure the eventual triumph of the individual over society. In this respect these two authoi's illustrate well the opposite tendencies of their respective nationalities. For it seems to be the mission of the Galilean family, or the Celtic race, as repre- sented by the Galilean family, to represent and carry forward the one of these two ideas, and that of the Anglican, or rather of the Teutonic, as represented by the Anglican, to represent and carry forward the other. Comte and Spencer may be accepted as the exponents and representatives, in part, of their respective nationalities in the fulfilment of these their respective missions or destinies. § 5.] COMTE AND Sl'EXCER. 237 In the performance of his part, however, which is undoubtedly the more important or pai'amount one, Spencer has committed far more serious errors than Comte. For he has asserted his idea altogether too unqualifiedly, while Comte, with more truly philosophical discrimination, has wisely qualified his idea with the distinct recognition of the counter idea, which Mr. Spencer has too unqualifiedly asserted. So far indeed does Mr. Spencer carry the idea, to so vitally erroneous and injurious an extent, that he denies alike the right and propriety of any state provision for the maintenance of the poor, and, what is even still worse, for their education * — com- mitting the vital error which the first propagators of every im- portant idea are so apt to commit, of fixing their attention exclusively upon the idea, without regard to its qualifications — committing the error of concluding, that, because state provision for the poor and state education are not the best modes for accomplishing the ends so sought to be accomplished, as undoubt- edly they are not, therefore they are not proper or right modes at all, and that they should not be resorted to, even •as a last resort, when other and more proper modes have been neglected. In this respect, as in some others, we must adjudge Mr. Spencer not by any means one of the most advanced thinkers, although, even in this respect, one of the most enlarged thinkers. For it is by reason of the very largeness of his views of society that he has committed the error in point. It is while recognizing and asserting the great general truth that human society is governed by the same stern and inevitable laws with the lower forms ^of nature, that he commits the error. In so far as the Poor Laws are concerned, he has committed the same error, although from a somewhat different stand-point, that Malthus committed, and which has been so strongly and justly censured in him.f But he * See Spencer's work on Social Statics, Chapters on Poor Laws and National Education. f For a complete exposition of the error of Mr. Spencer's reasoning in regard to Poor Laws, in common with those of Malthus, which, rightly interjireted or criticised, signify only opposition to u false and eminently defective system of Poor Laws, see the author's searching and totally exhaustive review of Mai- 238 COMTE AND SPENCER. [Chap. XII., has conjoined with Ihis error the still more perious one, which Malthus never committed, and was very far from committing, of opposing state education. § 6. Both of these two eminent thinkers have exhibited the folly, the more remarkable in such grave and truly philosopliical thinkers, of anticipating some great radical or organic improve- ment in the human condition, as involved in the natund order of "progress," as Comte styles it, or, of "evolution," as Mr. Spencer prefers to designate it. They have both virtually in- dulged the anticipation, in other words, that the time is coming when a horse will cease to be a horse, and become something more than a horse, or, what amounts to the same, when man will cease to be a mere man, and become something more than a man — a faultless being. This is the essential significance of their reasoning on " prog- ress" and " evolution" — more especially that of Spencer — in common with the vulgar mode of reasoning thereupon, although neither appears* to have been quite far enough advanced in his perceptions in regard to this the very highest accessible branch of philosophy, to discern that such was the essential significance of his reasoning. They have both proved themselves infatuated, to some extent, with the popular delusion about " the good time coming," which has already so often " lighted fools the way to dusty death," and whicli will doubtlessly continue to light theii" way. until it shall have conducted the whole human race to its ultimate destiny — the grave of its existence and of its delusive hope. This delusive dream of '' the good time coming," or of some better time that is to come, which seems constantly to haunt the human imagination, in respect alike to the destiny of the indi- vidual and the race, has, most probably, like every other attribute of humanity, bad as well as good, its utility, and, not improbably, its latent and deep significance. It njay be that it is a vague pre- thusianism — if one maj' so speak of his own work — comprising tlie Fifth Part of the Series to which this work appertains, Chapter V. of that Part, in which the viewa of Malthus himself, and Dr. Chalmers, are particularly considered. ^:; 7.] COJrrK AND SPENCER. 239 sentiment of a future life, in which the happy dream is to be real- ized ; or it may be a dim prophetic foreshadowing of a higher order of beings that ai'c hereafter to people this planet, an order :is superior to man as man is to the highest order of his predeces- sors. When such a superior order of beings shall come to take the place of man on this planet, if such shall ever come, the anticipa- tions which Comte and Spencer appear to have indulged, and MJiich so many visionaries have explicitly avowed, may be real- ized. But until then it will be premature, as it is utterly un- pliilosophical, to entertain any such delusive and visionary anti- cipations, § 7. Comte and Spencer, strange to say, have both committed the palpable error, so constantly perpetrated by short-sighted icasoners in Social Philosophy, of inferring, from the undoubted progress which mankind have made, and from that further prog- ress which they are undoubtedly capable of making, an unlimited capacity of progress, or at least a capacity of progress so great as to be utterly subversive of the very laws of human being, or ut- terly inconsistent with those laws. They have argued as if the course of human progress were steadily forward, and never back- ward — steadily upward, never downward — steadily on the ad- vance, never on the decline. They have argued, in short, as if every human thing, and every other thing, tended only toward LIFE, nay, toward still higher life, never toward death. They have totally ignored, at least for all practical purposes, the law of DEATH, and its antecedent corruption and decline. They have both totally ignored the idea — if, indeed, they were ever possessed of it — the eminently just idea, of Cousin, not less than of Fourier, that the life of the individual is the true type of the life of the race — nay, the still larger idea of Fourier exclu- sively, that this life is the type of every other, of universal life ;■ and that everything, as we see illustrated in the life of the indi- vidual, has a beginning, a middle, and an end, in the natural course of its development — individuals, races, worlds, and sys- tems of worlds. If this be true, as indisputably it is, as that* infallible reason, 240 COMTE AXD SPENCER. [Chap. XII., which manifests itself in man, under the instruction it receives from the suggestions of universal analog}', pronounces, with al- most mathematical certainty, what becomes of this weak idea of the constant prattlers about "progress" — from which even as great thinkers as Comte and Spencer have proved themselves not to have been emancipated — this idea of unlimited progress, or steadily onward progress in human affairs ? If the life of the individual is indeed the type of the life of the race, as indisputably it is, then the progress of the race can only be carried to a certain point, to what we may call the zenith of fhe human xace — and thereafter it must begin to decline, to go down towards death, and until it finally attain its death, either in some great convulsion of nature, or some gradual change in the pliysical conditions of the planet, which, cooperating with the moral degeneracy of man, will cause the gradual extinction of his species, as with tlie dodo, that is known to have died out within the historic period, or in one of those extraordinary transi- tion epochs of the globe, that are distinguished by the introduction of a higher order of animals, when some such higher order in the scale of zoological existence shall appear upon the planet, before whose presence the degenerate descendants of the human race will slowly disappear, and be gradually sloughed off from the face of the planet. § 8. If we may assume, with the insanely dogmatical Fourier, that the life of the human race is to be just eighty thousand years* and that it has now lived only some six thousand, it has yet some time before it, to be sure, within which to delude itself with those visionary hopes of " harmonic bliss," of which Fou- rier himself prated so absurdly, of " the final regeneration of humanity," of which Comte speaks so hopefully, and of " the eva- nescence of evil," and- " the ultimate adaptation of humanity to its conditions," on which Mr. Herbert Spencer dilates with so much sophistical ingenuity. * See Fourier's Passions of the Soul, as translated by Morell. t See Spencer's Social Statics, Chapter on Evanescence of Evil, or Part I., Chap. II. » § 9.] COMTE AND SPENCER. 241 Nevertheless, truly sober-minded philosophers will be apt to l)clieve that the first horse v/as a fair type of the last, and that the first man will be proved, in the end, to have been a not less fair type of the last man — that the past of human history will be found to afford a fair sample of its future history — that the world will never see truly wiser or greater men than it has already seen, although it will see, undoubtedly, far more en- lightened men — that the first Plato Avas the true type of the last, and that the first state of civilized society was not less the type of the last state — that the last Plato, and the last state of civili- zation, will indeed be found standing upon higher stilts, in other words, upon higher knowledge, but that the real stature, the real character of the man, and of the society, will not be found to have been materially if at all altered thereby. If the life of the individual be indeed a type of the life of the race, as indisputably it is, then the race will continue really to progress only until it shall have arrived at the age of thirty-five, or at most, forty-Jive, that is to say, accepting Fourier's dogma as to the lifetime of the race, until it shall have lived some thirty- five thousand, or, at most, forty-five thousand years, and there- after it must begin, and continue thence onward, no farther to advance, but only to decline, decay, and totter towards its death. § 9. If the life of the individual be indeed the type of the life of the race, a fortiori is it the type of the life of a nation. And, as many individual lives pass away during the lifetime of a na- tion, so many national lives must pass away during the natural lifetime of the race. No individual can be expected to live as long as his nation, unless, indeed, some extraordinary casualty should prematurely carry off" the nation. Neither can any nation be expected to live as long as the human race. If, then, the whole human race has but an allotted time to live, how much less time must eveiy particular nation have to live "? Within how contracted a period, therefore, must be developed that " progress," about which Comte and Spencer, in common with 11 242 COMTE AND SPEXCER. [Chap. XII., Po many others, have beguiled their judgments to so serious an extent? For, be it remembered, with a nation, as with the individn.al and the race, real progress, in the natural order of things, can only proceed during about one half of its natural life, and there- after must begin the natural tendency to decline. Tliis is the true natural order of that " Evolution," as applied to human affairs, which Mr. Spencer has made the basis of his whole sys- tem of Philosophy, and upon which he has built such large and delusive hopes. Yet he has looked at only one phase of the law of Evolution — the life phase — and has totally ignored, at least in all his practical reasonings, the not less manifest and inevitable DEATH phase. Spencer, not less than Comte, has regarded national progress, national improvement, exclusively in respect to the tendencies toward life, higher life, or further development of life, and has made no due or proper estimate of the not less inevitable tenden- cies to death — those tendencies to death which are indeed going forward, even at the very moment that the tendencies to life^ and to higher life, are most active. It is strange that men of large minds should be 'insensible to a truth so manifest, and so important in its suggestions to the philosophical mind. § 10. Nations, like individuals, must die. Everything human must die. "Whatever is born must die. Every organic existence must die ; and before death must come decline, decay, weakening of the principle of life, and return to an inferior form of life. There is no unlimited progress for any form of life ; and he is but a half philosopher who does not, in all his reasonings, bear in mind the two eternally co-ordinated principles of life and death, and shape £ill his reasonings accord- ingly. These two principles of life and death are, indisputably, as inseparably co-ordinated, and linked together, in the mystic chain of universal being, as are the principles of mind and matter — both indestructible, both eternal. There is no death to the principle of life. There is no death to the principle of DEATH. § 10.] COMTE AND SPENCEK. 243 Nations, like individuals, must die. Every century brings us proof of it. It Avas but yesterday, as it were, that the Irisli na- tion expired before the eyes of the world — before the eyes of the present generation. We beheld its last convulsive death-throes in the potato-rot — a disease totally incapable of carrying off so vigor- ous a nation, but for the concurrence of moral causes, and the weakening of the life-principle that had been slowly at work for centuries. With the reform measures inaugurated by the British Parliament, and consequent, in a great measure, upon that calamity, new life has, indeed, been infused into Ireland. A new nation will arise in that country, but it will no longer be the Irish nation. It will be an Anglican one mainly. The old Irish nation — the old nation of Milesian Celts — that old nation, with all its valor, wit, poetry and eloquence, will never live again. The old nation of Milesian Celts is dead. But the Slilesian Celts are not dead. They will yet live av/hile. They have gone forth to commingle with other peoples, in other lands, and to contribute to new forms of national life. Like the disintegrated rocks of a former epoch, that have entered into more recent geo- logical formations, tiie disintegrated masses of the old Irish na- tion have been swept abroad, by the diluvium of national death, and will there enter into newer sociological formations, in their turn to decay, disintegrate, and be destroyed. For nothing endures, nothing lives, beyond an ephemeral period, except the eternal principles of life and death — mtntd and matter. The old Ii'ish nation is dead. On this point let none be de- ceived. The late P'enian movement in the United States and Canada, is but one of the spasms of the galvanized corpse. It was but yesterday, too, that we saw the once great Ameri- can nation, suddenly struck delirious with brain fever, rushing frantically towards the precipice of national ruin, and barely escaping, if indeed they have really escaped, the destruction which seemed inevitable. In the short interval of four years we saw that remarkable people move backward a thousand years on the dial-plate of history, and national existence. In that short interval we saw the Anglo-Saxon race in America hastily retreat from their far advanced position, and falling back to the age of 244 COJiTE AND SPENCKU. [Cliap. XII., William tlie Conqueror, if not indeed to that of Canute the Dane. It is true, so wonderfully recuperative are the capacities of the race, in its present stale, which is that of vigorous manhood not yet on the decline, and with its highly advantageous surround- ings, that we need not be surprised if we should see them recover the ground they have lost, and retraverse the vast distance of a thousand years, in the short period of a single decade. But tliese wonderful mutations of national destiny shonld admonish all how uncertain are the conditions on which depends the pros- perity or progress of a nation. Yet Spencer and Comte have both argued as if these conditions were fixed and certain, or rather as if they depended only on the laws of life and progress, and not at all on those of death and decline. § 11. This oversight is the more ^markable in Spencer, be- cause he distinctly recognizes the tendency to " Universal Death," as logically involved in the ultimate tendencies of his law of Evo- lution.* "After Evolution has run its course," Universal Death manifestly stares him in the face. From this gloomy vision of Universal Death, it is true, the tendencies toward Universal Life again manifest themselves to his view. And in this he is right, beyond all reasonable doubt. For the fundamental law of uni- versal being is most probably typified in the old Eg}-ptian fable of the Phfjcnix. From the ashes of a dead universe a new one seems inevitably destined to arise. liut while Mr. Spencer thus theoretically and remotely recog- nizes the tendency to Death, he does not practically or imme- diately recognize or estimate it. lie pt)stpones it to a remote, a vastly remote futurity — a postponement which may be legitimate as to universal nature, but not as to that complex, highly wrought, and short-lived phase of nature^which is manifested in man and his social organizations. For although the death of the universe is remote,' that of man, of tiie whole human race, is proximate, is comparatively near at hand. I\lr. Spencer should have remem- * See Spencer's First Principles, Chapter XVI , or that on Equilibration. § 12.] COMTE AND SPENCEU. 245 bered tlii?:. He should have considered, that, although the death of sidcrial systems is ])iobably very remote, the death of social systems is undoubtedly very near — near enough, at least, to ren- der their natural and essential tendencies to death a proper and requisite element for philosophical consideration. In this respect lie, and not less also Comte, have proved themselves at fault, in common with the multitude of superiicial reasoners and declaimers, to wjiom they have proved themselves so far superior in many of their views, that it may well excite surprise to find them assimi- lated in this. § 12. Despite the obvious points of resemblance above indi- cated between these two eminent thinkers, and others not men- tioned, objection has been made by Mr. Spencer to the classifica- tion of himself in the same category with Comte, or as appertain- ing essentially to the same school of thought.* But the exceptions which he has taken to such classification are altogether insufficient, nor are they by any means well taken. In this respect an author must allow others to be better qualified to judge of him than he of himself. The more especially should Mr. Spencer do so, when it is but too manifest that he has a disposition to disparage Comte, and set himself in opposition to his claims to be regarded as a con- trolling authority in the realm of thought. His impatience at being assimilated to Comte — his manifest desire to appear dif- ferent from that great intellectual Titan of the modern world — his disposition to pick flaws in the reasonings of that august thinker — afford but one among many evidences, that Mr. Spencer has ex- hibited, of what we might venture to term the small mind, the more remarkable in one of so transcendent a genius, and of such prodigiously large thoughts, in the main, as he has proved himself indisputably to be. We must, however, regard this error, or rather foible, of Mr. Spencer's, as merely an illustration of what his writings afford, abundant proof, that he is rather a vast and brilliant thinker, than * See his Letter to tlie Editor of the New Englander for January, 1864, on Preface to Fu'st American Edition of his work on "First Principles." 24G COMTE AND SPENCEK. [Cliap. XII , a very accurate, or extraordinarily profound one. The chief merit of Mr. Spencer, indeed, consists iu the vastness of his generalizations, and the brilliancy of his illustrations. The former quality, which is the more fundamental one, he has only in com- mon with Comte. The latter, which is rather superficial, and appertaining only to the execution of his design, is peculiarly and preeminently his own. As a writer he is indisputably the superior of Comte. As a thinker he is indisputably his inferior, in so far at least as the practical applications of fundamental principles are concerned, which afford, after all, perhaps, the surest test of the most valuable thinker. As a writer out of his thoughts, whatever they may be, right or wrong, solid or specious, wise or foolish, Herbert Spencer stands unsurpassed. As a thinker he has many superiors, although few, if any, that excel him in the correctness of his fundamental ideas and general delineations. It is only when he comes to the more particular ideas, or to the practical applications of his general and fundamental ideas, that his judgment fails him, that his percep- tions appear to flicker, and lose the right direction. Nor is this to be wondered at. The verj' brilliancy of his thoughts tends to blind and deceive him. Who, indeed, could think as brilliantly as Herbert Spencer, and not be bedazzled by the splendor of his own thoughts? The lightning's flash is too brilliant to allow of one's seeing clearly by its light. It rather blinds and dazzles the vision. In so far as artistic skill in rhetoric is concerned, in so far as relates to a clear, lucid, and brilliant style of writing, Plerbert Spencer may well scout the idea of any comparison between him- self and Comte. That field of glory is all his own. For he is as brilliant in composition as Comte is dull and prosy AYliile Comte di.^courses on the vast theme of universal science with the dullness and tedium of a professor of mathematics, Spencer makes the august theme almost as interesting as a romance. This is one of the cliief merits of Spencer — his brilliancy of thought and illustration in regard to obscure and abstruse themes. But we must not be blinded or dazzled l)y his brihiancy, if v.'e would rightly estimate his merits as a contributor to the domain of § 13.] COMTE AND Sl'ENCER. 247 thought and ill be made manifest from the following passage of the same Ai ork, already so largely drawn upon : " When a pure morality ; 1 ises, capable of impressing a social tendency upon every phase of human activity, the freer our action becomes the more useful will it be to the public. The tendency of modern civilization, far from impeding private industry, is to intrust it more and more with inactions, especially with those of a material kind, which were originally loft to government. Unfortunately this tendency, Avhich is very evident, leads economists into the mistake of sup- j tsing that industry may be left altogether without organization. -VU that it really proves is that the influence of moral principles is [gradually preponderating over that of governmental regulations."* To the same point, he says, in a subsequent chapter : "Modern ijidustry has long ago proved the administrative superiority of private enterprise in commercial transactions ; and all social functions, that admit of it, will gradually pass into private manage- * Same work. Ch. III., p. 177. 262 COMTE AND SPENCER. [Cliap. XII., ment, always excepting the great theoretical functions, in which combined action will always be necessary."* How much more just, more correct, is this qualified statement of the great leading idea, that the essential tendency of all human progress is towards the ultimate triumph of the individual over society, than that extreme, and almost totally unqualified assertion of the idea, which has been made by Mr. Spencer, who will not allo^7■ that government should have anything to do with provision for the poor, with state education, nor with sanitary provisions of any kind, whether relating to Health of body or of mind. Mr. Spencer, indeed, would have tlie function of government rigidly restricted to ''protection," — protection to the community, and the individual. Very good. Kightly understood, and most essen- tially expressed, this is undoubtedly the legitimate function of government, or, at least, its main legitimate function. f But what then? Something is necessary to protection — is it not? What is necessary to protection, in its largest import — in its proper sig- nification ? Very evidently, under many circumstances, a good deal more than Mr. Spencer is disposed to allow. John Stuart Mill, beyond all question one of the most correct and valuable thinkers of the age, the grave, judicious, deliberate, many-sided Anglo-Saxon philosopher — Avho has never, indeed, shown any symptoms of the A nglo-Saxon mud on the brain, except in his slow- ness to appreciate the paramount influence of Race on national destiny, before criticised — in his valuable chapters on " The Functions of Government," has laid down, with admirable pro- priety, many of the important qualifications to which the great leading idea in question is liable, and which it will be found fully sustain Comte, and adjudge Mr. Spencer to be seriously in error. | § 23. So much has been already said, in respect to the views of Spencer, by way of contrast as well as of assimilation, with * Same. Chap. YL, p. 399. t Jlr. Spencer's deliuition of the legitimate function of government is substan- tially the same with that of the author, and hardly so rigidly expressed ; but it is not duly qualilied, as is the latter. See the author's unpublished work ou " The Political School of Social Philosophy," or Part HI. of this series, Chapter I. X See Mill's Political Economy, Part V. ; _';J.] coiitp: and srExcEu. 2G3 those of Comte, that we shall have the less need of dwelling at any length upon the separate and more particular consideration of 1]i(jse views, the more especially as they lie much more imme- (li;ilely open, than those of Comte, to the view of the Anglo- .S:ixon world, to which these thoughts are more immediately ad- (li-essed. The most essential and fundamental expression of the views of Spencer in his own words, an expression which serves at once to bring his merits and demerits, or deficiencies, as a fundamental thinker, most distinctly into view, the more especially from the sharp and clearly-defined contrast which it affords with the more profound thought of Comte, is to be found in the following pas- s:ige from one of his miscellaneous works : "Social progress," s;iys Mr. Spencer, " is supposed to consist in the production of a greater quantity and variety of the articles required for satisfy- ing men's wants; in the increasing security of person and prop- ci'ty ; in widening freedom of action ; whereas, rightly under- stood, Social progress consists in those changes of structure in the Social organism which have entailed those consequences."* Very profound, Mr. Spencei-, undoubtedly ! But not quite pro- found enough. Rightly understood, and most essentially ex- pressed. Social progress consists in those changes of fundamental oriMON, from Avhich result " those changes of structure in the Social organism." Much more profoundly and correctly does Comte speak, in the passage which has been already quoted, ill which he says, " the statical analysis of our Social organism shows it resting at length upon a certain system of fundamental opinions, ""j" Betraying the fundamental trait of his race, of which he is emi- nently representative, Mr. Spencer here rests his most funda- mental thought upon the outer rather than the inner view of things — the grosser and more sensuous perceptions, rather than upon the finer and more essential ones — upon the materialistic * Illustrations of Universal Progress. Article I., cntitlcil, Progress— Its Law and Cause. t See ante, § 20, p. 258. 264 coMTE AND SPEXCER. [Chap. XII., rather than the idealistic -metaphysics. He evidently has not pen- etrated to the great truth that mind everywhere precedes matter in the process of organization — that mind is the true motive power, the true organic principle in universal life, and that what he calls "changes of structure in the social organism," are but changes in the form of thought, or general character, tak- ing to themselves new forms of outward structure.* § 24. A much more creditable expression, in part, of his most essential views of society — nay, an admirable and faultless expres- sion of a great fundamental truth of the most essential importance — does Mr. Spencer atfbrd us where, in contrasting the social with the individual organism, he says : "It is well that the lives of -all parts of an animal should be merged in the life of the whole ; be- cause the whole has a corporate consciousness, capable of happi- ness or misery. But it is not so with society, since its living units do not and cannot lose individual consciousness, and since the com- munity, as a whole, has no corporate consciousness. And this is an everlasting reason why the welfare of citizens cannot rightly be sacrificed to some supposed benefit of the state ; but why, o\\ the other hand, the state is to be maintained solely for the bene- fit of citizens. The corporate life must be subservient to the lives of the parts, instead of the lives of the parts being subservient to the corporate life."")' This is an eminently just and valuable thought, deserving to be inscribed for all time in the temple of science. It is a clear, dis- tinct, emphatic, and eminently scientific recognition and asser- tion of the great truth, that the society is subordinate to the indi- vidual, the state to the citizen, the government to the man — • that, in short, governments are made for men, not men for gov- ernments. * Mr. Spencer himself, in his more recent work on the Principles of Biologj', virtually recognizes the same idea ; for he there asserts that function precedes structure, which is but another mode of asserting that opinion or desire precedes habit, or social forms of any kind. For the laws of life are the same, by his own reasoning, in individual and social organisms. . Principles of Biolog}', Vol. I., § 61. t See Es.say on The Social Organism, in Spencer's Illustrations of Universal Progress, pp. 39G-7, N. Y. Ed. of 1SG5. § 24.] COMTE AND SPENCER. • 265 What a rebuke does this conclusive passage in Mr. Spencer's philosophy read to that madness which lately broke forth in American society — the last society on the globe in which it should have appeared — which sought to revive and give prominence to the counter-idea, the antediluvian idea, of Social Statics, that the individual is subordinate to the society, the citizen to the state, the man to the government — to the institution which is of his own creation, which is rightly his mere agent, his subject, his ser- vant, his slave — nay, that madness which had the audacity to stigmatize the man, nay, millions of men, as " rebel," against a thing of his own creation, an arrogant abstraction, a rebellious abstraction, called ''government," thus making the sovereign a ''rebel" against his rightful subject, the master a "rebel" against his bonded slave. For let it be for ever remembered — let it stand forth as an ever- lasting testimonial, or declaration of the truth, for all ages to come, that whatsoever government has, ever has had, or ever shall have, rightful authority over mankind, to any extent, holds such authority only in the name of man, for the benefit of man, of the individual man, by how many fioever myriads the individual man is to be reckoned. Let it be for ever remembered that the Brit- ish Queen, the French Emperor, the Russian Czar, the Sultan of I'urkey, the Emperor of China, not less than the Stadtholder of Holland or the President of the United States, rightfully hold their respective authorities by the consent — implied, if not ex- pressed — of the several peoples in whose names they respectively reign. Each and every one of those governments may be, and probably is, legitimate, rightful, and proper, under all the circum- stances that surround it. For be it furthermore remembered that it is of no great conse- quence that a few, or even very many, individuals, among each one of those several peoples, may be opposed to the existing govern- ment, provided such government truly represents the real interests of man. The discontentment of a few, or even of many, with their government, does not prove that such government is not the rightful representative of man, and does not reign by and through HIS righful authority. It is sufficient, very often, if such govern- i 12 266 coMTE AND SPENCER. [Chap. XII., ment rightfully represents the most enlightened class of society — the truly philosophical class — -who always represent the true inte- rests of the less enlightened classes, and very generally, indeed, their most essential wiU, even though it should be their uncon- scious will. For be it remembered again, that man, in the ag- gregate or individual, acts through his brain, and that the philo- sophical class constitute the true brain of humanity. It should be manifest, therefore, that we can never actualize entirely, or fully attain the subordination of the society to the in- dividual, or the triumph of the individual over society. We can only approximate it. Man is not capable of attaining to perfect justice, but only to approximative justice. In order to assure the liberty of many, we must curtail the liberty of some. Nay, in order to assure the rightful liberty of a few, it is sometimes neces- sary to curtail the ^^Tongful liberty of many. In order to assure the liberty of those who know how to use liberty without abus- ing it, whether they be many or few, it is sometimes necessary to curtail largely the liberty of those who cannot so wisely use liberty. Hence, denial of liberty to men, to a certain extent, is sometimes, nay, too often, justifiable and necessary. But it is never so except for the sake of man — of the individual man — the rightful interests of individual men. It is never so for the sake of any such abstraction as society, or the government. Hence the late great war in America may possibly have been justifiable or excusable. But let it be distinctly and for ever understood, and borne in mind, that if it was so justifiable or excusable, it was so only as a war of the man of the North against the man of the. South, to prevent the latter from unjustly depriving the former of some of his appropriate rights — not as the war of an arrogant and rebellious abstraction, called " government," against man, who is for ever the reality, the true sovereignty, the true divinity of earth, however distant he may be from heaven. § 25. Having thus highly eulogized the valuable idea of Her- bert Spencer last quoted, it becomes now our less agreeable duty to note that the great practical error of his whole reasonings, on the Philosophy of Society, consists in the extreme application ? 25. J COMTE AND SPENCER. 2G7 which he has attempterl of this idea, and the plausible but flimsy sophistry of his theoretical reasonings, by whicii he has deceived himself into the imagination that the realization of this idea is pos- sible, nay, is to be expected in the natural course of human Evo- lution. And this brings us at once to the consideration, more particularly than before, of his " Social Statics," his most elab- orate disquisition, in fact his only formal treatise, on Sociology, as yet presented to the world. This work, most essentially speaking, may be defined as a dis- quisition on the -perfect life for man, as an elaborate attempt to define what that life is — in other words, as an attempt to de- lineate the true standard of right to which men should conform their actions, more especially in regard to Social relations. This he virtually concludes is to be found in the pei-fect liberty of the individual, in short, in " the ti'iumph of the individual over so- ciety," although he Jias not exhibited the genius, like Henry James, to express the idea with so much sententious brevity and terseness. The practical conclusions of this work ai'e, indeed, substantially the same with those of Godwin's Political Justice ; although its theoretical reasonings, or its diagnosis of causes, are not by any means so superficial and ridiculously flimsy. For while Godwin was an extreme representative of the Political School of Social Philosophy, and, as such, pronounced Govern^vient the real cau.se of Social ills7 Spencer, far more profoundly, recognizes the truth, though not so emphatically as might be desired, that their true cau.se is to be found in the constitution of the universe, of which the constitution of man is but an extension or ramification. However much moi'e profound in his fundamental idea.s, or diagnosis of causes, than Godwin, nevertheless, the practical con- clusions of Mr. Spencer, in his Social Statics, are substantially the same. They both tend to the denial of all government by the aggregate force of the society — to the abrogation of all political au thority — to the unrestrained liberty of ihe individual. As already often before intimated, in these pages, this is indisputably a ten- dency in the right direction — the essential tendency of all advance in civilization, of all true human progress. But the error ot Mr. 268 cOjite akd spencee. [Chap. XII., Spencer, only a little le?s conspicuous, in this practical point of view, than that of Godwin, is, that he carries the idea altogetlier too far, asserts it with far too little qualilication — in short, with- out any adequate appreciation of the utter impracticability and hopelessness of the idea's ever being realized. § 26. In so far as INIr. Spencer's elaborately critical disquisi- tion on the true standard of right is concerned, he has done no more than thousands have done before. There is no great dilficulty in defining this standard. All men are fundamentally agreed about it, although, they may adopt different modes of expressing thenv selves in regard to it. Mr. Spencer has only taken a very cir- cuitous way to assert what any school-boy might have informed us, at least any school-boy in Jurisprudence. He has only taken a very roundabout way to tell us wjiat we all knew before, that the true rule of Ethics, not less than of positive law, is, that " Every one may rightfully so use his own, and should so use it, as not to abuse aHOther's," or, as the more terse Latin phrase expresses it, "Sic utere tuo, ut non abutere alieno." The world has known this all along. It did not requii'e to be taught it even by Confu- cius, or Christ, much less by ISIi'. Spencer, at this late time of day. But the great difficulty has been all along, and will ever continue to be, to prevail on men to practise the doctrine. It is this great difficulty which Mr. Spencer so greatly underestimates, He talks learnedly and largely about the '' evanescAice of evil," and the ultimate '* adaptation of humanity to its conditions," in which, as he argues, will consist the disappearance of all evil Irom human society. When this result shall have been attainetl, of course, as he may very well argue, men may be left entirely free, they will need no governmental restraint ; for then " the human constitution must be such,'' to use his own language, " that each man may perfectly fulfil his o\»n nature, not only witliout diminishing other men's spheres of activity, but without giving unhappiuess to other men in any direct or indirect way."* Thus does this plausible and fal- • Social Statics. Part I , Cb. III., § 2. i 26.] COaiTE AND SPENCER. 269 lacious, though brilliant writer, rehash the absurd idea of the " perfectibihty of man," so absurdly foisted upon the world by Condorcet, Godwin, and others, in the latter part of the last century. This is his ideal of the perfect man, and the perfect state of society, as portrayed in his Social Statics. To this ideal are all the reason- ings of that work conformed. In short, Mr. Spencer, in his Social Statics, gives us little or no direction in regard to society as it is, but only in regard to society as it ought to be. He is the philos- opher who, in his Philosophy of Society, treats of man as he ought to be, not of man as he is. We did not need any ghost to tell us that ; in other words, to tell us what man ouglit to be, according to our superficial and contracted view of things. For about that we are all agreed, substantially at least. As t9 what man ought really to be, that is, in reality, quite another question. Had Mr. Spencer been a deeper philosopher than he has proved himself, he might have told us, perhaps, that man is already what he ought to be — that, as the more truly philosophical Pope tells us, " whatever is, is right." Had he been a deeper philosopher he might have discerned, perhaps, that in reality there is no such thing as evil — that what we call evil is but the subversive phase of good, or its converse phase — that it is an inseparable counterpart of good, necessary to GOOD. He might then have discerned, perhaps, that what he is aiming to accomplish, what he hopes and vainly expects to see accomplished, the eradication of what he calls " evil," is not only impracticable, but happily so for mankind — that it forms an in- separable part of the vital economy of the universe — that the day which shall witness the extermination of evil, as we term it, must witness also the extermination of good- — that the day which be- holds the eradication of vice must behold also the eradication of virtue — that good and evil, virtue and vice, happiness and miser}^, are the inseparable antagonisms, the indispensable vital forces of the moral universe, without which it could no more live than could the sidereal universe exist, or live, without the inseparable and in- dispensable antagonistic foi'ces which we respectively designate CENTEIPETAL and CENTRIFUGAL. 270 COJITK A^T) SPENCER. [Chap. XII , lie who has not risen to the contemplation of these great truths has, most probably, mistaken the vital secret of the uni- verse. But however this may be, and allowing that this vain con- ceit, this delusive hope, as to the eradication of evil, or the "evanescence of evil," as Mr. Spencer terras it, has some founda- tion in possibility, all will admit that the time is very remote, is very far distant, when the vain hope can, by any possibility, be realized. Yet Mr. Spencer bases his whole view of human society upon the hypothetical idea that this distant hope, this remote pos- sibility, has been already realized, and gives no prescription for society in respect to its actual condition, except, indeed, to let it alone, to run its own course. § 27. The main and most essential criticism to be pronounced on Herbert Spencer, as he presents himself in his '' Social Statics," is, that he ignores entirely the law of Evil, which renders his work a very admirable treatise on Ethics, but a very poor one on Sociology. He offers no prescription for society except upon the condition of its fulfilling the perfect law — nothing that will avail society until it shall have attained to that perfect law, which of course it will never do. He renders himself liable to the criti- cism or satire of the old orator Maynard, in the British Parliament, upon those rigid sticklei"s for form, who, even in the time of revo- lution, would do nothing except according to the prescribed foi'ms of law, and whom he very aptly compares to the man who, having lost his way in the wilderness, stands crying, " Where is the king's highway? I will walk nowhere but on the king's highway."* This fastidious moralist flatly tells us, in his Social Statics, that he has nothing to do with " expediencies," which, every man of common sense knows, are the very matters about which statesmen and true social philosophers have to concern themselves almost exclusively. He telLs us that all he has to do is to inform us, what we all knew before, in the general and the abstract, what is " right" — to furnish us, in short, with the true ideal of human society, or the perfect life for man. * See Macaulay's History of England. Vol. III., Ch. II., p. 24. § 28.] COMTE AND SPENCER. 271 A penny for his tlioughts on such a topic ! The world is saturated, nay, water-logged, with disquisitions about 'that, quite as good as his. What we want in Social Science are some in- structions, some clear directions, in regard to the great pi'actical questions, how far can we safely or surely approximate this ideal of the perfect life, of the perfectly just — how far can men be ren- dered capable of approximating it — what can be done for men as they are — how can human institutions be so accommodated to human nature, as it actually is, with all its defects and imperfec- tions, with all its follies, vices, errors, as to attain for mankind the best possible approximation to the ideal state. Totally ignoring these great practical questions, conclusively showing himself incapable of meeting- them, or of giving any very valuable or accurate and particular instructions in regard to them, he runs riot with his single idea about the perfect life, the perfect standard of right, the perfectly just, which he would have applied to all men, and to all societies of men, without regard, or any due regard, to their actual condition or their fitness to appreciate the perfectly just. Hence we find him running into the superficial fallacies of English Chartism — nay, far transcending them — and advocating univei'sal liberty, universal " equal freedom," and "universal suffrage," nay, for women as well as men, even for England, when truly philosophical statesmen doubt seriously whe- ther it is a safe franchise even for younger and more favorably cir- cumstanced societies, in which the preponderance of destitution, and consequently hopeless ignorance, has not become as yet near so great as it is in England. § 28. This criticism on Herbert Spencer should sufficiently in- dicate how little merit he possesses as a practical instructor, or thinker, in Social Philosophy, despite the great value of his main fundamental ideas. But we should not duly estimate the super- ficiality and flippancy which has been strangely manifested by this eminent thinker, throughout the whole reasonings of his Social Statics, if we did not notice more particularly the flimsy sophistry with which he has revamped the absurd idea of the " perfecti- bility of man," or, what amounts to the same thing, in his own 272 COMTE ANB SPENCER. [Cliap. XII., proper parlance, " the evanescence of evil." We may well feel the more called upon to do this, because the illustrious writer calls upon us to take exception to his reasoning thereupon, if we can — challenges us to do so, by saying, " If any one demurs to this, let him point out the error." Let us see how the argument stands, which Mr. Spencer so vauntingly regards as triumphant and conclusive. Here it is: " The inference that as advancement has been hitherto the rule, it ^\•ill be the rule henceforth, may be called a plausible specula- tion. But when it is shown that this advancement is due to the working of an universal law ; and that in virtue of that law it must continue until the state we call perfection is reached, then the advent of such a state is removed out of the region of proba- bility into that of certainty. If any one demurs to this, let him point out the error. Here are the several steps of the argument. " AU imperfection is unfitness to the conditions of existence. " This unfitness must consist either in having a faculty or fa- culties in excess ; or in having a faculty or faculties deficient ; or in both. "A faculty in excess, is one which the conditions of existence do not afford full exercise to ; and a faculty that is deficient, is one from which the conditions of existence demand more than it can perform. " But it is an essential principle of life that a faculty to which circumstances do not allow full exercise diminishes ; and that a faculty on which circumstances make excessive demands in- creases. " And so long as this excess and this deficiency continue, there must continue decrease on the one hand, and growth on the other. " Finally, all excess, and all deficiency, must disappear ; that is, all unfitness must disappear ; that is, all imperfection must dis- appear."* Was there ever such an elaborate tissue of ridiculous sophistry before attempted to be formally and pompously foisted upon the ♦ Social SUtica. Part I., Ch. II., § 4. J § 28.] 1,C0MTE AND SPKNCER. 273 common sense of the world 1 Where was the professor of logic in whose school this artistic logician graduated, that he allowed his pupil to put forth such an exhibition of Sophomoric wisdom ? We need not ask where was the professor of common sense ; for surely there could have been no such professor in the college in which this transcendent sophist, not less than brilliant philosopher, took his diploma. Let us abbreviate and sirnplify his logic, that it may be the more readily appreciated and confuted. It is substantially this. All evil, or iviperfection., is unfitness to the conditions of existence. But all unfitness to the conditions of existence has a constant tendency to die out or disappear. Therefore, all evil or imperfection has a constant tendency to die out, or disappear, and, consequently, must eventually die out or disappear. Surely such absurdity is deserving of no other confutation than that of the reductio ad absurdum. Let us apply it. It may be rendered thus : Death is the sum of all evils — the most dreaded of all, and that for which nearly all other human evils combined will readily be exchanged. It is the result of all the imperfections of organic being. Could all these imperfections be removed there would be no death, which is the mere result of those imperfections, of the unfitness of organism, whether vegetable or animal, to the condi- tions of their existence. But, as Mr. Spencer profoundly informs us, all unfitness to the conditions of existence has a constant ten- dency to die out, or disappear, and must eventually do so. There- fore all death must eventually die out or disappear. The happy time is therefore coming in which the trees will no longer die, the horses will no longer die, and, joyful to think, man will no longer die, but will be endowed with an immortality on earth — the very conclusion at wiiich the ridiculous William Godwin arrived, in his delirious ravings about " the perfectibility of man," but which Mr. Spencer has not shown the acumen to perceive is the inevita- ble result of his absurd logic about " the Evanescence of Evil." It is with regret that we have to take leave of so great a thinker, as Mr. Spencer undoubtedly is in the main, with such a discredita- ble exhibition of his reasoning. But what is here said to his dis- paragement cannot invalidate what we have already said as 12* 274 COMTE AND SPENCER [Ch^p. XII,, to his claims to distinguished consideration for the highly valuable ideas which he has so powerfully contributed to impress upon the thought of the world in regard to the true Philosophy of Society. The sun has his spots ; Jupiter sometimes nods ; and Herbert Spencer has occasionally played the fool with his great ideas. § 29. Before taking final leave of these two great thinkers, it may be well to notice, by way of contrast, the most essential dif- ference between their great practical aim, the aim which is com- mon to both, and that of the author of the present work. By these sharp points of contrast the real views of diiFerent reasonei-s come most clearly to the view. Comte and Spencer, though more espe- cially the former, aim at the improvement of society — the author of this work aims merely at the improvement of the ideas or knowledge of men in regard to society. They aim at reforming the morals of the world — he at merely reforming the intelligence of the w^orld. They hope, at least, and expect some radical im- provement of the morals of the Avorld — being altogether too great philosophers not to perceive that such improvement must come, if it come at aU, in the natural order of " progress," or " evolution" — that it must come as a " natural growth," as Spencer has so clearly and beautifully shown. The author of this work hardly dares hope for any such improvement, much less expect it. "When the religion of Jesus has failed, so sadly failed, what hope is there for man — that he can ever be rendered essentially better than he has heretofore been ?*, Has not all experience, indeed, tended to show that men grow in knowledge, but that, alas, in virtue or true wisdom, they for ever stand still ? In this view the author has the entire concurrence of Buckle — a greater thinker than either Comte or Spencer — who regards intellectual progress as the only real progress of which mankind are capable. While Comte and Spencer both aim, or at least hope, to change, in some essential respects, the system of society, the writer of these pages aims and hopes simply to explain it In this, he respect- * That the world has been somewhat improved by the religion of Jesus, see the chapter on Christianity in the autho*' s unpublishetl work. Part II. of this scries. t< 29.] COMTE AND SPENCER, 275 fully submits, that he more nearly represents the trne Newton of Sociology. The Newton of Astronomy did not aim, did not pre- sumptuously aspire to change, in any respect, the system of worlds, but simply to explain it. Scarcely less presumptuous is the at- tempt of the Social Philosopher to change the system of human society, which is, in fact, the logical conclusion derivable from the premises of both Comte and Spencer, not less than of Buckle, though they do not, like Buckle, strictly adhere to their premises. There is, to be sure, this important difference between the sys- tem of worlds and the system of human society, that the knowledge of man concerning the former cannot exert any influence what- ever upon it, while it may and must have some necessary influence upon the latter. And this is the only ground of hope entertained by the writer of these pages. In so far as improvement of men's knowledge, concerning the true principles of human society, must exert a necessary influence in modifying their conduct, so far and no farther is there any re- liable hope of human improvement. And when it is considered that right knowledge tends to teach men, not only how to do right, but that it is their true interest to do right, considerable hope of improvement from this source may not unreasonably be entertained. But let it not be too much over-estimated, as it is too apt to be by that class of reasoners who, like Godwin and Spencer, are capable of being led away by the absui'd idea of hu- man perfectibility. Men are not governed by their judgments alone, but to a great extent also by their appetites and passions. These repeatedly lead men to do wrong, against their own convic- tions, nay, their very desires to do right — so that it is emphati- cally true, as the poet has expressed it — "I see the right, and approve it, too, Despise the wrong, and yet the wrong I do." Men habitually do wrong against their own interests, and against a certain general desire to do right, and to abstain from the wrong- ful acts which they habitually practise. What drunkard, gambler, or debauchee, so lost to all sense of right and virtue as not to know that it is not his interest to continue in the practice of those 276 COMTE AND SPENCER. vices which he habitually practises ■? Yet he continues to prac- tice them, and will continue to do so. If men will thus know- ingly do wrong, even to themselves, against their own interests ^ what hope is there that they can ever be prevented from doing wrong to others, by the mere knowledge that it is their interest not to do so ? There is no hope of it. There is no hope for the eradication of evil from the human constitution, or what to our contracted view so appears. There is no hope for any radical improvement in the human condition. Passion wiU ever be more potent than reason, and that passion will ever prompt men to do what reason disapproves. It has ever been so. It wiU ever be so. The past is the true type of the future. There is no fundamental change to be expected in man, or in any race of plants or animals.* It is utterly unphilosophical to expect it. Let all delusive hopes of any great or radical change in the hu- man condition be dismissed from philosophical contemplation. Let no one fondly dream that human life, at least in its terrestrial phase, can ever be rendered essentially different from what it has ever been — a great battle-field of antagonistic principles — a battle- field in which trutii and error, good and evU, virtue and vice, hap- piness and misery, will continue to wrestle together in mortal agony " unto the last syllable of recorded time." * Cousin well says. "Man changes mncb, but not fundamentally." See work so often quoted. Lee. VI., p. 189. CHAPTEE XIII. THK AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY BRIEFLY CONSIDERED— WEBSTER, CALHOUN, AND HENRY JAMES PARTICULARLY NOTICED— THE LATE GREAT WAR GLANCED AT, AND THE LESSONS IT INCULCATES. § 1. As the two writers, considered in the foregoing chapter, stand at the head of the column of most advanced thinkers in Social Philosophy, so American society stands at the head of the column of most advanced experimenters in that philosophy, if, in- deed, it may not be said to stand at the head of the column of ad- vancing humanity. Relatively speaking, where Comte and Spencer stand theoretically, American society stands practically. As they stand in the world of thought, that society stands in the world of action. It has been well and beautifully said by Victor Cousin : "In universal life nothing perishes ; everything is metamorphosed and appears anew ; mechanics and physics reappear in chemistry, and chemistry in vegetable physiology, which again finds a place in the economy of animal nature." Nor is this observation any less true of the moral than of the material realm, of the world of mind than of the world of matter. The former thought and effort of the world, in regard to the improvement of society, have not been lost. They are preserved essentially in American institutions, and live in the society which embodies those institutions. American society is the lineal out- come of all antecedent society, and of all anterior theories, specu- lations, reasonings, and experiments in human society. It is the latest product of the combined wisdom of all the past. With all its imperfections and errors, with all its omissions of what is good in the past, and adoptions of what is bad in the pres- ent, or its premature adoptions of what appertains more properly to the future than the present of human affairs, American so- ciety may be regarded as the nearest approximation that lias ever yet been made, on any large scale, towards the realization of that 278 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., State for which the aspirations of the human soul are constantly yearning, and towariis which all true Social Philosophy must ever direct its aims — that state which has been so justly defined by Rousseau, and to which he has contributed so little that is really valuable — the state which joins " the considerations of natural right and public interest, so that justice and utility may never be disunited."* Our review of the most advanced ideas in Social Philosophy would evidently, therefore, be very incomplete, if it should omit all ref^ence to American society, and whatever contribution it may have made, either theoretically or practically, to that philos- ophy. For in America practical results must be important in their suggestions, if not accompanied by corresponding speculation, or an order of thought competent to deduce the most important conclusions from such results. It is to America, indeed, that the world should look for instruction in Social Philosophy. It is there that we should naturally expect to find the true Newton of Sociology. For where the highest experiments are at- tainable, there the highest attainments in science are properly to be anticipated. " To whom much is given, of them will much bo expected." § 2. The student of human society enjoys many advantages in America — advantages wliich cannot be obtained in any other part of the world. There the anatomy of all anterior social life lies open to his view, in the higher organism which it has at last at- tained in American society. Through that highly wrought or- ganism he can look down through all the lower stages of social life — down to the Protozoic, which Mr. Spencer very justly recognizes in the society of the Buslimen."!" As it has been said tliat the modern school-boy could teach the most renowned geog- rapher of antiquity a good deal about geography, may it not be said that the American school-boy can teach the most eminent * Social Contract. Book I., Ch. I., p. 1. t See article- on the Social Organism, in Illustrations of Universal Progress, p. 399. Am. Ed., 18G5. § 3.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 279 Sociologist of other lands some important lessons in Sociology? Can he not teach him how vain and fallacious are the calculations which they make, the high expectations which they found, upon the improvement of the mere political institutions of a people ? Of how many en-ors may the student of society be saved who enjoys the advantages of regarding it from the high stand-point of American society ! Of how many miscalculations, delusive reme- dies, and vain hopes, may he save himself the anxiety ! Of how much error and miscalculation might as eminent thinkers even as Comte and Spencer have been delivered, had they enjoyed these advantages ! They have built large hopes for humanity, to a great extent, at least, although not exclusively, upon nothing more than what has been enjoyed in America for nearly a century — upon political institutions and civil rights, which have been so long enjoyed and regarded as well settled there, among the white race at least, that they had lost their value in common estimation, and were recklessly thrown away by the people in their late in- sane war — it may not unreasonably be hoped, not as yet finally or irreclaimably thrown away. We might almost say that American society begins where the speculations of Comte and Spencer on the Philosophy of Society end. These reasoners may be almost said to rest from their la- bors where those of the American statesmen practically begin. Equitable government, equality of political franchises, equality of civil rights — political authority founded on the consent of the governed, universal suffrage, universal " equal freedom," as Mr. Spencer expresses it — seem to have constituted the great practical ends at which they aimed — the ends, at least, from which they hoped gi'eat things But of what avail, asks American society, would be the realization of these desired ends ? What use are mankind going to make of these blessings when they obtain them ? American society affords but too faithful an answer to these ques- tions. America threw away all that just a day or two ago. § 3. A practical and familiar acquaintance with American society might have suggested an important idea or two to these too hopeful philosophers — especially to the specious, the plausible, 280 TlIK AMERICAN COXTRIBTJTION [Chap. XIII., and vi?ionaiy Spencer, with his fantastic absurdity about " the evanescence of evil." It might have taught them both, and espe- cially Mr. Spencer, who needed the lesson most, where the real difficulty of any great improvement of human society lies. It might have taught them that the difficulty amounts to impo.ssi- bility. It might have taught them, too forcibly to be mistaken even by Mr. Spencer, that the difficulty does not lie in man's " conditions" alone, as he so systematically and superficially argues, but in max himself. They might have found in American society a great practical illustration of the way in which mankind may be expected to treat the very best institutions, the very greatest blessings, that the wisdom of man, combined with the rarest favors of Fortune, can confer upon them. They might have learned that mankind ai-e ever too apt to treat such blessings like the base Athenian who voted to ostracize Ai'istides because he was tired of hearing him called "the just." This much, at least, one may learn from the study of American socirtv, if nothing more. Practically, indeed, much may be learned from a critical survey and examination of that society, although, theoretically or speculatively but little. Thought or speculative inquiiy has been but little directetl to Social Philo.-^ophy as yet in America, except in relation to mere politics. The American con- tribution to Social Philosophy, from the theoretical point of view, for the most part, indeed, appertains exclusively to the Political System of thought, and, as such, has been already noticed in the previous work of the author devoted to the review of that system. In so far as its theoretical contribution to any higher system of tliought is concerned, we are without any formal treatise or sys- tematic effort to direct our inquiries, unless, indeed, we may ex- cept the masterly work of Calhoun on Government, which may be regarded as a mere incidental effort to the great business of his life. Such contribution is to be found rather in the mere drop- pings, if we may so speak, from the larger thougl)t« of the larger minds of America. We take no notice, of course, in this connection, of some pre- tentious efibrts that have einanat;.'d from the American press — such, for example, as the ridiculous effusions of Mr. Henry C. § 4.] TO SOCIAI. PHILOSOPEir. 281 Carey, first published in 1837, under the title of " Principles of Political Economy," subsequently revamped, and published in 1848, under the preposterous title of "The Past, Present, and Future," and still more recently again revamped, and published to the world in 1858, under the pretentious title of " Principles of Social Science." The author has already wasted time enough in exposing the ridiculous absurdities of these successive efltusions of diluted balderdash, in his chapter on the Anti-Malthusians,* of whom Mr. Carey is most essentially one, although he founds his ridiculous reasonings upon the conjoint endeavor to overthrow not only Malthus on Population, but also Ricardo on Rent, with some incidental exceptions to the indisputable truths established by Adam Smith. These ridiculous and hugely voluminous effusions belong exclusively to the illimitable realm of verbiologt, and have no place whatever in the realm of thought. § 4. The larger minds of America have hitherto devoted them- selves almost exclusively to practice rather than theory, to art rather than science, to business rather than philosophy' — in short, to the world of action rather than the world of thought. The only noteworthy departures from these general tendencies, besides the masterly disquisitions on the Principles of Government, already considered in our review of the Political System of Thought, are to be. observed in the department of History, in which America has alreafly presented to the 'world some admirable specimens. The historical compositions of Irving, Prescott, and Motley, de- servedly outrank the arid pages of Hume, the pompous strains of Gibbon, and the tediously brilliant effusions of the constantly overwrought Macaulay. Nor should we, perhaps, omit from this category the highly meritorious Bancroft, although somewhat less resembling the true Herodotus. Incidentally, however, some of the larger minds of America have thrown out some valuable ideas in regard to the Philosophy of Society, which it is the leading design of the present chapter to notice. Omitting all reference to valuable ideas, rare gems of * See Part V. of this series. Ch, IX. 282 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., thought, that occasionally drop from the political press of America, and attest the undeveloped capacity for a higher system of thought than has hitherto prevailed in regard to the phenomena of society, we shall notice only some thoughts that have escaped from three preeminent intellects, two of the political realm, and one of the theological — Webster, Calhoun, and Henry James. When we contemplate the wonderful proportions of those two colossal intellects of the political realm, we can scarcely refrain from exclaiming regretfully how much might have been gained for science if they had expended their power on the world of thought, instead of squandering it on the world of action What a blessing, indeed, would it be for mankind, if they could only at- tain to a little more thougftt, and a little less action ! It is an old proverb, " think twice before you speak once." Of how many incalculable ills might mankind save themselves, if they could only be prevailed upon to think thrice before they act once. § 5. The American public have been so much accustomed to hearing another great name associated with those of Webster and Calhoun, that with them it may appear odd to hear those two mentioned without the other. Clay, Webster, and Calhoun were the three great contemporary magnates of America, who can scarcely ever be named except in connection with each other. They were the living trinity of American statesmanship. They were the great triumvirate, whose parliamentary conflicts were appropriately referred to in the contemporary press of the day, as " the war of the giants." Of these three the first named was un- doubtedly the greatest, as an orator, a leader, and practical states- man. His was the intellect to which, in great emergencies, all looked for direction. His was the clarion voice before which all others became silent. His was the creative energy which spake the word, and it was done. Practically he was the superior of both his illustrious compeers. Theoretically he was their inferior. In moral power, on which successful action far more depends than on purely intellectual, he was incalculably their superior. In in- teUectual power he was decidedly their inferior. There are three kinds of great men — the great in thought, § 0.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 283 s|)eech, and action. Clay was the great man alike in speech and action. He was the great orator, the great actor, the great man to plan and execute, and, of course, to think, so far as relates im- mediately to the exigencies of the crisis. Webster and Calhoun Avcre great in thought. They looked into the past, they pene- trated the future, and regarded the present in relation to both, to a far greater extent than their great compeer seems tg have done, or perhaps was capable of doing. They appreciated principles much more thoroughly — he their practical applications only. Henry Clay was the great man of his day and generation ; but he has bequeathed no great thought to posterity. Daniel Webster and John Caldwell Calhoun have left thoughts that will live after them — not such rare or valuable thoughts, indeed, as might have beej expected from such highly endowed intellects, but sufficiently so to arrest a passing notice. Hence it is that we have some special remarks to make here on these two great ones, and none on the other. § 6. It is remarkable that the most valuable thought ever ut- tered by Webster, having any direct relation to the Philosophy of Society, was thrown out informally and casually at a public din- ner. Had all else that this great statesman ever spoke or wrote been lost, the world would have been no great loser thereby ; be- cause all else that he ever said, the world had been repeatedly and eloquently told before. But the thought embodied, however im- perfectly, in that dinner speech, the world has been too seldom told, and its value, as in so many other cases, is in proportion to the limited extent of its circulation, and familiarity to the com- mon view. In a speech delivered at a public dinner in Baltimore, on the 18th of May, 1843, this great statesman said : "Depend upon it, gentlemen, it is change and apprehension of change that uimerves every working man's arm in this section of couutiy. Changes felt and changes feared are the bane of industry and enterprise."* Here we have a partial and imperfect expression of the great * See NUe's Register for 1843, or Vol. LXIV., p. 219. 284 THE A3IERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., fundamental truth, which constitutes one of the four grand cor- ner-stones of the true system of Social Philosophy, that, the essen- tial nature of the immediate evils of all bad govetivnent is uncer- tainty — the uncertainty which they beget in the public mind as to the future — the impression which they create that no depend- ence can be placed on the action of the government and the stability of its policy — the inevitable consequence of which is a general and ^\ide-spread parali/sis of national industry and enter- prise. It is but an approximative expression, to be sure, of this great truth, but so nearly approximative as readily to suggest it, or, at least, open the way towards it. Look where we may, and we shall find verification of this great law. Look where we may, and Ave shall find proof, not only that " changes felt and changes feared are," as Webster has so justly said, " the bane of industry and enterprise," but that the essen- tial nature of the immediate evils of all bad government is re- solvable into this influence — the influence of uncertainty, and apprehension of change. We speak not here of any other evils of bad government, than those that are immediate in their influence. We speak not of in- direct or remote e\ils or influences. We speak not of that in- fluence which the government of states may exert, and must in- evitably exert, td a greater or less extent, in moulding the charac- ter, and thus indirectly shaping the destiny, of nations. We speak only of du'cct and immediate influences, and such as the vast ma- jority of mankind concern themselves about, almost exclusively. And we say, let these influences only he stable, jLced, and certain — let us only know what they are going to be, and it matters not what they may be, or matters but little. Let us only know what the action of govei'nnient is going to be, in respect to taxation, or in any other respect — let us but know whether the government is going to tax us to the extent of Jive per cent, on our net income, or tircntij-Jive per cent., and we may triumph over its action how- ever burdensome, and prosper under it all — provided always, and, of course, that the burdens of taxation be not so gi'eat as to 'paralyze hulastry or enterprise. For when it does this, then it strikes into the very vitals, alike of individual and national pros- ^ 7.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 285 perity. Then it strikes into the very soul of man. And there it is, as we shall ever find, that the true sources of his prosperity lie. j'aralyze not the industry or energy of man, by imposing too heavy burdens upon it, however certain and fixed, much less by liewildering it with uncertainty as to what the burdens are to be, and you still leave open to him the door of hope — you still leave it morally and socially possible for him to prosper. Give us but an industrious, intelligent, provident peof)le, and a STABLE government — a government whose action can be depended on, can be calculated on — and you give us all the essential ele- ments of national prosperity, in so far as they lie open to the view and admit of calculation. It matters not immediately, again we say, what sort of government it may be, provided only it be stable — provided only it be fixed and certain in its policy. It matters not what may be its form, or outward appearance. " The forms of government let fools contest." A man may prosper under any form of government — under one government as well as another — under the government of England as well as under that of Massa- chusetts; and under the government of Russia as well as under cither, provided only the government, in each case, rigidly ad- heres to its legitimate business, of simply protecting the individual in his honest industry, of simply letting him alone itself, and guaranteeing that he shall be let alone by others — in other words, provided it only insures to him stability, or certainty, in so far indeed as certainty is attainable by man. § 7. What then! — it may be asked — is the government of a state a matter of no importance, except in respect to the stability or certainty of its action % Undoubtedly it is, but not mimediaieli/. "Indirectly and- remotely it is of essential importance in other respects. For, be it remembered, as already stated, that one of the conditions of national prosperity, of social well-being, nay, the grand main condition, is, an industrious, intelligent, and provident people. Now are not some governments more favorable to this condition than others ? Undoubtedly ; and such govern- ments are, cceteiis jxiribus, the best. Most essentially speaking, in- 286 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII. , deed, that is the best government for a people which, under all the circumstances, is the most favorable to this condition. Is a republican government preferable to a monarchical one 1 It is precisely because it is a government most favorable to the development of industry, intelligence, and providence, among the people. It is the government most likely to foster self-reliance, which is the true parent of success in life. It is the government most favorable to the development of those qualities on which suc- cess in life mainly depends ; although, unhappily, it is not the government for which all people are propeily qualified, which all people are capable of using without too greatly abusing. In this connection, too, we may readily see why it is not well for a people to be heavily burdened with taxation, however stable, certain, and fixed that taxation may be. It is because the moral effect of it, the remote effect, is bad. It is because it strikes, like every form of bad government, at the soul of man, and the in- most fountains of his prosperity. It has therefore been well said, by that profound observer and philosopher for all time, Sir Francis Bacon, " The blessing of Judah and Issacher will never meet ; that the same people or nation should be both the lion's whelp and the ass between two burdens ; neither will it be that a people overlaid with taxes should ever become valiant or martial."* Nor less significantly to the same point has he spoken, where, in the same connection, he has said, " that no people overcharged with tribute is fit for empire." Let the overtaxed nations ponder this. § 8. Let us not, howevei", lose sight of the important idea which the gi'cat name of Webster has been here invoked to substantiate or illustrate, tliat tlie iidiediate evils of all bad government are, most essentially, resolvable into the influence of uncertainty, and that, consequently, if we would find a true measure or standard by which to estimate the immediately injurious influence of govern- ment on the social condition, we may find it in the formula, or problem, how far is such government uncf.ktaix in its action. This truth is the more valuable because of its larity, because it is so * Essays of Lord Bacon. § 8.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 287 little known or considered, or rather, because it is so wholly un- known and unconsidered. As with every other great fundamental truth, mankind are slow in coming to its recognition. For here, as elsewhere, we find the great law verified, that the most funda- mental truths are always the very ones that come last into vjew. But it is assuredly time that mankind had come to the recog- nition of this important truth. The clock of time has struck TWELVE. We are in the afternoon of human existence. It is high time that mankind had come to know something about the real nature of those ills against which they have been constantly clamoring since the world began. It is high time that they had come to know that it is not high taxation that really oppresses them, but uncertainty of taxation — that it is not anything which stands permanently established in human society, in political forms, governmental action, or the like, that really or necessarily and directly tends to their injury, but that which is forever un- settled, uncertain, and bids defiance to all attempts to calculate what it will be. It is high time that we had come to know, and understand, that it is in the power of a people to triumph over every other evil emanating from their government except instability, uncer- tainty, constant apprehension of change, an abiding sense that nothing can be %«- ical sense, and not in a metaphysical, or the highest philosophical sense. Other- 300 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., naiy and gigantic war, with all its'Stupendous train of consequent evils. If the earth should suddenly experience a grand convulsion up- heaving a continent, and submerging other extensive portions of land, the real process of geological transformations, as they are often effected, although seldom, if ever, on so large a scale, could not be rendered more manifest, than that of sociological trans- formations has been rendered by this war. It constitutes one of those grand transition epochs in human history, that has been consummated so quickly and vividly to the view, that there can be no mistaking the true motive power by which it has been immedi- ately effected. It was clearly the work of the people themselves, who had the power in their own hands, and wantonly threw it away — that power, which in aftertimes they will be vainly seeking to reclaim, and clamoring against the injustice of denying to them, when it was their own reckless hands that threw it away, or madly lavished it on political tricksters and military tyrants. Tliis was not one of those slow movements, obscured by the night of barbaric ages, the true operation of whicii could not cicaily be discerned, and concerning which there couW be no conclusive contradiction to the specious assertions of ignorant brawlers, and canting, hypocritical, shallow demagogues, that the pure and innocent people had been robbed or cheated out of their rights, by the superior force or strategy of the few, without any fault on the part of the many. This was done in the daylight- - in tlio daylight of tlie highest civilization— almost in a .single day ; and there can be no mistaking its real agency and causes. The people themselves did it. The people have been in this case, as in nearly all others, the responsible agents of their own ruin. They ru.^hed madly on their own destruction. They threw away the noblest institutions ever enjoyed by mankind with their own rash and reckless hands. They threw away a wise a palpable incousistcncy in liis ])hilosoi>liical .'"y.steni, as developed here and elsewhere, even in these page.^, might be inferred. Really, most essentially, most fundamentally, man is not the cAcsic uf anything. He is a mere efki;("t, a mere phenomenon, or grand ("oNtjicuiKs of elfects or phenomena. § 17.] TO SOCIAL IMllLOSOIMIY. 30l government founded upon the noble idea of the consent of the governed, and substituted in its stead a government of force, of arrogance, of insulting coercion. In order to oppress others they become willing to be oppressed themselves. In order to deprive others of their rights, they were willing to be deprived of their own. In order to gratify their malignant hostilities toward their neighbors, they invoked pi'inciples that must bring down destruc- tion upon their children and their children's children. In their demented zeal for liberty they trampled out the most sacred principles of liberty. Avowing their abhorrence of slavery, they proved, by their acts, that the only slavery they really abhori*ed, was that which deprived them of (he liberty of doing just what- soever they pleased, without regard for the rights or liberties of other men. Such is the nature of man. The acts which we here condemn in the American people cannot properly be imputed to them in par- ticular. They are the acts of humanity, and such as mankind in general are constantly prone to commit, under like circumstances, and when losing nearly all sense of reason, they are carried away by highly-excited passion. The American people were as little likely to act so unwisely and culpably as any others, under the like extraordinary circumstances. No people have ever been more generally possessed of the requisite qualities for the highest form of civilization. No people have ever been endowed with a more liberal spirit, a more genei'ally enlightened judgment, or more truly humane sentiments. What hope is there, then, of man, when such a people, a people upon whom so many cherished hopes were centred, and with such good grounds, have acted so unwisely, rashly, fatally ! T4ie satire which we here pronounce directly against the Amer- ican people, or rather the dominant party ot that people, is, there- fore, to be regai'ded as a satire on man, of whose real nature American society has exliibited, in the acts under review, but too faithful a portrait. The censure falls immediately upon the people of the North, or rather the adherents of the Federal Gov- ernment, whether North or South ; but, mutatis iniUandit>, it may be applied with almost equal justice to those of the South, ex- 802 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., cept, indeed, that the highly culpable follies of that section were confined to a minority of the people. But under like circum- stances there is no reason to suppose that they would have acted any less culpably than the people of the North. They were the minority section, the weaker party, by far. And the wonder is that, being such, even a minority, so large a minority, could have been found among them advocating so insane a policy as that which has mainly shaped their course for the last quarter of a century — a policy which, instead of seeking, by extraordinary efforts, to conciliate opposition, sought rather to browbeat the rast of mankind into acquiescence with their peculiar, and in many respects extraordinary, views in regard to slavery — a policy 60 well calculated indeed to exasperate their opponents as to afford much palliation, though surely no justification, for the gigantic follies and crimes of the North. § 18. Never before in the history of the world have a people made so rapid and great a descent from the height of prosperity. Occupying the highest position ever attained by human society, on so large a scale, they have come down, in the short period of half a decade, to the level of some of the most oppressed nations of the globe, in many important respects. Never before have a people inflicted such great injury upon themselves, and so mani- festly by their OAvn folly. Blessed beyond all former example, they have wantonly thrown away their blessings. Strangers to national debt, on any considerable scale, and almost unacquainted with taxation, they have brought down upon themselves and their posterity a stupendous debt with its necessary incubus of taxation, to fetter their industry, and demoralize their virtue. And this they Iiave done under the pretence of necessary war, when a few gentle words of wisdom and of peace, on the part of those in power, would have settled all the difficulties without sacrificing one drop of blood, or one dollar of treasure. Holding in their own hands, to a far greater extent than any other people, the reins of authority, the direction of fheir own afiiiirs, they have, by their own acts, transferred tliem, to a dan- gerous extent, to tlie hands of a contrivance called " the govern- § 10.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPIIT. 303 inent," where all experience has proved they are most liable to be abused. Enjoying political institutions that were the highest result of the accumulated wisdom of ages, and for which their own immediate ancestors had struggled and fought during at least a thousand years, they sacrificed those noble institutions on the unholy shrine of their passions — their partisan furor and sectional hate. For a government nobly resting on the consent of the governed they have wilfully substituted a government resting on the sharp points of the longest bayonets. For the legitimate government of America they have substituted the government of Russia ; and over nearly one half of the once great confederacy they have substituted for sovereign states, con- quered pi'ovinces. Was it for this that all the toils, struggles, and sufferings of former ages have been endured in order to afford to mankind in America the best government ever yet found to be attainable ? Yes, it was only for this. It was only that on having attained it they might by their own follies and crimes wantonly, recklessly, throw it away. This is only in accordance with the great law of human destiny, from which there is no appeal. One generation amasses wealth in order that another may recklessly squander it. § 19. Happy might it be for mankind if the evils that have been already inflicted in this mad affair of internal strife, that has rent and torn the great American family, were the last or even the greatest. Happy might it be if the difficulties thus sought to be adjusted, were really settled, as the deluded advocates of those unworthy measures have sought to persuade themselves. Happy might it be, if those who have been the immediate agents of the mischief that has been already done, could themselvea escape similar mischief. But there is no ground for any such hope. The eternal laws of justice are not so easily to be evaded. There is an " even-handed justice," not to be escaped, which eventually " commends the ingredients of the poisoned chalice," which we have administered to others, " to our own lips." In the stern economy of the moral universe there is no such anomaly as "forgiveness of sins." Men cannot escape the conse- 304 THE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTION [Chap. XIII., quences of their own acts. They who sow the wind must expect to reap the whirlwind. They who wrong others must expect to be wronged themselves — still more, to have it requited to them measure for measure. They who commit murder must expect, in one form or another, to suffer its penalties. And the sacrilegious assassins who immolated the noblest system of government that the world ever saw, upon the altar of their unhallowed passions, need not hope to escape the terrible atonement which, in some form or other, must be their inevitable allotment. It is but one side of this bloody picture that we have as yet seen. It is but one act of this eventful tragedy that has been as yet enacted. The proscriptions of Sylla have indeed very nearly run their course. Eut those of Marius are to follow. They who have spent their own rage need not expect to trammel up the rage of others. They who have enjoyed the game of war and " coercion," just so long as it played into their own hands, need not indulge the delusive hope that, so soon as the fortune of the play begins to turn against them, they can arrest its progress by crying peace, peace, there has been enough now of the war game, the coercion policy. The time for peace was before the dragon's teeth had been scattered broad-cast over the land. Acteon may call on his trained dogs to desist. IJut it will be all in vain, after he ha.s lost the control. Nor will his unavailing cries save him from the doom of being devoured by his own hounds. "His blood be upon us, and on our children," once cried a wicked rabble, concerning a noble victim whose blood they de- manded. Useless invocation! The blood of the slain wiU rest uninvoked upon the heads of the guilty and their descendants. The sins of the fathers will be visited upon the children. Future generations will moum the crimes of the present, in sackcloth and ashes, and they will often have occasion to exclaim with anguish, like the murderous woman of the play, in her distempered dream : " Here is the smell ov the ulood still. Not all the per- Fu.MEs OF Arabia will sweeten this little hand. Oh ! Oji! Oh!" § 20. Such is the teaching of the late gi-eat war in America in regard to the causes from which really flow the ills of society. § 20.] TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 805 But is there not any correspondent lesson to be deduced in regard to the agepcy by which those causes are to be counteracted, or at least combated ? If we have learned an important lesson from that great event, in regard to the true diagnosis of social disease, can we not derive any lesson in regard to its tiierapeltics ? We shall be obtuse observers, poor Social Philosophers, if we cannot. The great practical lesson which may be deduced from that ex- traordinary and ever-memorable event in human history, is pre- cisely that which the theoretical teachings of Spencer, Calhoun, and Henry James, as we have alreadj'^ seen, inculcate, and towards which all true Social Philosophy, and all real progress in society, are constantly tending — the importance of imposing greater re- straints upon the political authority of states, of restricting the limits of their activity, and requiring, as to many acts of govern- ment, the approval of a much larger portion of the community than a bare majority — of a majority approximating unanimity. It inculcates the lesson that a very large majority of the people, a gi-eat deal more than a bare majority, should be obtained before the government shall be at liberty to raise its audacious hands in violence against any considerable portion of its disaffected citizens for merely political offences — for mere appeal to the great funda- mental right of revolution. Consider the absurdity and monstrous iniquity of allowing a bare majority to bring down upon the whole of society such stu- pendous calamities as were involved in the late great war in America. Suppose it had required a majority of at least three- fourths, i{ not four-Jlfths, of both houses of Congress, to inaugurate civil war, on the part of the general government against any one state, or at least any three coterminous states, that had resolved, by the formal action of a majority of their several peoples, to re- sort to revolutionary measures, either by secession or otherwise. Does not every candid mind see, that if such had been the con- stitutional law in America, and that law had been respected, all these late terrible calan)ities would have been avoided — that there would have been no civil war, and no secession, no successful or permanent secession '? 30G THE AMERICAN CONTEIBDTION [Chap. XIII., Such a constitutional provision would have compelled a com- promise of those diificulties, which were the gi-adual accumulation of seventy years of American life — a compromise that would have settled those difficulties. Or, if it had not done this, the secession fever would have soon run its course, and quietly subsided. Or, if even this had not occurred, the worst event would have been a violent effort of the minority, in the great conservative states of Vii'ginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Missouri — which had refused, by large majorities, to secede, until the insolent policy of "coercion" had been adopted — to force those states out of the Union. This would inevitably have inaugurated civil war within those states ; and had the Union party proved too weak, they would undoubtedly have invoked the aid of the general govern- ment, which, in that event, would have been entirely legitimate, and unexceptionable to all reasonable men. Thus Avould the great end, for which the gigantic war was invoked, avowedly at least, have been effected without any great war, if any at all. For without those more conservative and more impox'tant states of the South, the more impetuous states that had seceded, before *' coercion" had given them really good ground for doing so, would undoubtedly have receded from their unwise position, and fallen back again into the old confederacy. § 21. It is indeed a remarkable fact, deserving of more par- ticular consideration here, that the great civil war in America was inaugurated and forced on the people by the minority — by a minority party. The party holding the reins of government at Wasliington during this war had been elected — although in ac- cordance \vith the forms of law, and with an indisputable consti- tutional majority — by an actual minority of the people merely. A majority of at least one million of the American people Avere op- posed to them. Yet they had the audacity to adopt a policy which even a majority should not have dared to assert, which even a majority should not have been constitutionally allowed to adopt or assert. By a singular oversight in the wise and provident framers of the American constitution, it was not only allowable that a Pret^ident - § 21. "I TO SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY. 807 might be elected, with a large majority of the people against him, but that he might inaugurate the most momentous measures, not less than ordinary ones, with no larger concurrence of the popular will. So imperfect in some of its features, is that justly-admired constitution. So imperfect and defective are some of the noblest works of man. So much do all human efforts need amendment and reform. CHAPTEB XIV. GENT!RAL SUMMARY— THE PRESENT STATUS OF SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY MORE EX- PLiaTLY DEFEsED IN BRIEF— ITS COMilENDABLE THERAPEUnCS— ITS IMPFJIFECT DIAGXOSU?— rrS COPERNICAN IDF„\ DISTIXCTLY DEFINED— ITS NEWTONIAN IDEA SUGGESTED RATHER THAN DEFINED— CONCLUDING RE>IARKS. § 1. What, then, is the present status of Social Philosopliy ? Speaking generally, we may say it is in a transition state, or in "wliat a French philosopher might term a provisional state ; in "which old ideas have, to a great extent, lost their vitality, but the new ones have not as yet acquired sufficient consistency and force to direct thought, or control action, to any important extent. It is in that state in which former systems of thought have been overturned, but no new system has as yet beep or- ganized. § 2. Still speaking generally, but somewhat less so, we may say that Social Philosophy is, at present, in the condition in wliich the religious idea was, in the time of the great reformer who has given his name to the present epoch of the world ; in whose time men did not so much need any new suggestion in re- gard to that idea, or to what Mi*. Carlyle has well designated as man's " vital relations to this mysterious universe," as some determinate direction for the many suggestions they had already received. The august mission of that great reformer of thought and feel- ing, in regard to the religious idea, or the Divine Idea of the world, as interpreted by himself, was accordingly "not to de- stroy but to fullil," although, in a certain sense, it was indeed to do away with '' old things," and to " render all things new." It was not so much to introduce new ideas as to remodel the old, and accommodate them to the larger ideas of a more advanced humanity ; which is in truth for the most part the sole signL^i- cance of the work of every refoi'mer, however great. GENERAL SCMMAKY. 309 He, indeed, who attempts to do much more than this generally fails to do anything. He who advances too far ahead of his age generally disconnects himself from all sympathy with his age, atid thereby loses the power to control or modify it, to any im- portant extent. Accordingly very great thinkers, who seek to reform the thought of the world, as we may readily detect, are very cautious how they utter many of their greatest thoughts, and very manifestly dare not communicate them to the full extent of their significance. This we see strikingly manifested in the teach- ings of Jesus, although he communicated enough of new truth, enough of his own transcendent inspirations, to cause him to be immolated on the altar of truth, as Socrates had been before, and so many have been since. The world, in the time of Jesus, was not by any means want- ing in the ideas out of which to construct a larger theology, and a higher, a grander morality. There were the sects of the Phari- sees, Sadducees, and Essenes, among the Hebrews, who had been discussing those great questions for more than a century, and who were possessed of all the fundamental ideas that mankind have ever been able to obtain, or probably ever will, on these profound mysteries. There were also the schools of the Academics, Epi- cureans, and Stoics, among the Greeks, who had been discussing them for a much longer time, and which were but different phases of the same forms of opinion that were represented re- spectively by the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes. For the forms of thought are substantially the same among all nations, and in all ages of the world, and are but few in number. The Pharisees were substantially the Academics of Hebrew philosophy, the Sadducees were the Epicureans, while the Essenes most essentially represented the Stoics.* This is a substantially a correct classification of those ancient sects and schools, although, of course, not entirely unexceptionable. In some respects the Essenes more nearly resembled the Cynics, while in some the Pharisees resembled much the Stoics. * See Josephus' Antiquities of the Jews, Book XVIII., Chap. I., for the differ- ent ideas of the three great Hebrew sects. 310 GENERAL SUMMARY. [Chap. XIV., It is noteworthy that among all these Hebrew sects, except the Sadtlucees, and all the Grecian schools excep.t the Epicurean.'', prevailed the idea of a future life for man. Among the Greeks it was styled the immortality of the soul, among the Hebrews, the resurrection from the dead. It was only necessary, there- fore, to combine this hopeful idea of the resurrection, or future life, so strongly insisted on by the Pharisees and Essenes, not less than by the whole Platonic school of Greece, with the exti'eme piety, rigid morality, and more spiritual form of worship, incul- cated by the Essenes, and baptize it with " the fire out of Heav- en," derived from that grand old Hebrew tradition of the Mes- siah, that was to appear about that time, and Christianity was organized, and began its eventful career. In short, the sect of the Essenes was, to all intents and purposes, the emhrijo of Chris- tianity. It only required the Divine inspiration of Jesus to breathe it into life. § 3. The ideas, then, were not wanting in the time of Jesus. It was only the designing and combining mind, with a certain degi-ee of new and higher inspiration, or with some few addi- tional and more comprehensive ideas, superadded to the old, that was requisite to commence the great revolution which Avas then inaugurated in the moral destinies of the world. And this is all that is now needed by Social Philosophy, and in order to effect a great revolution, not indeed in the social condition or political destinies of the world — for that is not to be hoped — but in the 'imderstaiuling of mi:n in regard to the causes which determine that condition, and conti'ol those destinies. It may have been with reference, in part to the fact here stated, that the great teacher, whose example is here cited, made his ex- j)ressive observation, " The harvest indeed is plenty, but the laborers are few," which may be interpreted, either as meaning that there was much work to be done, and but few disposed to do it, which is the common interpretation, or, that that there was much work that had been already done, .that the harvest of ideas, feelings, and hopes, was abundant, but that laborers were wanting to turn them to proper account. Such at least is § 4.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 311 the present condition of Social Philosophy. The harvest of ideas is plenty, but the reapers are wanting, who know properly how to gather in the ideas, and store them away in their appropriate garners. It is not so much new thought, as proper systematiza- tion of thought, that is needed in this, as in many other depart- ments of knowledge. Some new ideas it was indeed the mission of Jesus, as of every great reformer of thought, to announce. How beautifully and sublimely did he teach that the time had passed when God was to be worshipped in this mountain or in that, and when He was to be regarded, i-ather as the inhabitant of the whole world — nay, moreover, that the time had passed when He Avas to be regarded as dwelling in an outward tabernacle, and when the human soul was to be regarded as the true tabernacle in which the Divine presence is manifested to man ; " for lo," he says, " the kingdom of heaven is within yourselves." How just as well as beautiful an illusti*ation, by the way, does the teaching of this august reformer in this respect aiford, of the teaching of true Social Philosophy ! The time has passed, says that philosophy, when men are to look to this place or to that, to this man or to that, to this law or to that, to this institution, this form of government, or some other, for their true prosperity ; and when they should come clearly to understand that the king- dom of this world, not less than the " kingdom of heaven," is with- in themselves — that the real sources of their prosperity, either as individuals or nations, are to be found in their own industrial, moral, and intellectual energies. So much for our general answer to the question — what is the present status of Social Philosophy. § 4. Speaking more particularly, we may say, Social Philos- ophy is at present in the condition it which medical philosophy, or medical science, as it is more commonly styled, finds itself when it has attained to a very correct TiiEitAPEUTics, for the treatment of any disease, but is as yet very imperfect in its diagnosis of the disease. For this is, almost precisely defined, the Tj^rescat status of Social Philosophy. 312 ■ GENERAL sujniARY. [Chap. XrV., It has attained to a correct therapeutics for social disease, in so far as it admits, in common Avith physiological diseases, of any remedy ; but its diagnosis of causes is veiy imperfect, meagre, and wretchedly contracted. Hence, while it has made considerable practical attainments, in short, nearly all it can ever make, it is very backward in its theoretical attainments ; which is perfectly in harmony with the great general law, that correct /practice every- vjhere ])recedes correct theory ; or that the observation and instinct of men lead them in the right direction, long before their rational faculties have been suffici'ently developed and enlightened to dis- cern the grounds of its propriety. Social Philosophy has already attained to the great practical conclusion that the only sufficient and reliable remedy for social ills in so far indeed as they admit of remedy, is to be found in THE elevation OF THE MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL STATUS OF MANKIND — for which conclusion, as has been often before stated, in these pages, it is immediately indebted to Malthusianism, or to the great conflict of thought to which that doctrine has given rise. Vague recognitions, indistinct and imperfect expressions of this great truth, had indeed been asserted before — nay have ap- pertained more or less faintly to every age of the world. But nowhere have they been so distinctly and emphatically expressed as by the Malthusian philosophers. Nowhere else have they been asserted with sufficient distinctness and emphasis. There is a great diffiarence between the loose and merely casual assertion of a truth and its formal announcement — between its merely poetical recognition and its scientific assertion. The for- mer we have had before. The latter we have obtained only from tlie Malthusians. The former assertions have availed but little, as is the case with such loose, indistinct, and disconnected asser- tions generally. How many glimmerings of the truth do we faintly catch before the whole truth blazes on us ! How many streaks of the morning shoot upward from the horizon before the etlulgent sun looms upon the world ! The former announcements of this great idea were but glimmerings of the truth. Those which the Maltlmsian philosophers have made aftbrd us the genuine and effulgent sun-light. § 5.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 313 The most emphatic and noteworthy assertion of the great truth under review, as before remarked, is to be found in the thought and expression of Dr. Chahners and John Stuart Mill — the former an original, and the latter a later' Malthusian.* " Everything, in fact," says Dr. Chalmers, "short of a moral economic check on the multiplication of the species, and that througii the medium of the people's education and improved habits, will turn out but an ephemeral expedient for enlarging their means of enjoyment, and raising their status in the commonwealth, "f Nor less to the same point says the same great thinker: "Nothing, in fact, will save the community at large from the miseries of an oppressed and straitened condition, but an elevation of the popular character and mind."| Nor less pregnant, expressive, and comprehensive, is the language of Mill, so often before quoted: "No remedies for low wages have the smallest chance of being efficacious which do not operate on and through the minds and habits of the people." On these two expressions of Dr. Chalmers and J. S. Mill rest the highest practical attainments as yet of Social Philosophy. In them may be said to consist the present status of that philosophy, in respect at least to its conclusory ideas as contradistinguished from its fundamental ones. In these expressions, moreover, is contained, in general form, and in its most condensed essentiality, the true Therapeutics of Social Philosophy. § 5. It should not be necessary to halt here to meet the ques- tion, which may be raised by superficial criticism, what can be the utility of further inquiries in Social Philosophy if it has al- ready attained to a correct Therapeutics, or to just ideas concern- ing the practical ends to which it should conform its efforts. Suf- ficient it should be to reply, that it is highly important, for many reasons, practical as well as theoretical, to attain a correct * For the important distinction between original and later Malthusian, see tlie author's unpublished worli on that system of thought, and more particularly Chapters IV. and VI. of same. t Chahners' Pol. Eco. Ch. X., p. 242. % Same. Ch. XL, p. 282. 14 314 GENERAL SUMMARY.' [Chap. XIV., DIAGNOSIS of CAUSES, Dot less than a correct therapeutics of practice, concerning every efficient science, not less than e%ery purely theoretical one. Sufficient it should be to reply, that the end of every science — its true and proper end — at least its true scientific end, is simply to know, without reference to the practical applications of that knowledge. The very name of science comes from scio, which signifies to know. Its true scientific object or end is, therefore, to hioio — to know everything — everything, at least, that can be known, which is preciously little, to be sure — to know especially causes, as far as they can be ascertained, or laws, as Mr. Comte prefers universally to call them. Tliis is the immediate object of science, its true or proper object, its purely scientific object. If, then, Ave wish to master the science of Sociology — if wc wish, in short, to establish a thorough Social Philosophy, ade- quate to the great work which appertains to it, of perfecting such a science — assuredly we must penetrate to causes, to the funda- mental LAWS, which give rise to phenomena, and which have to be counteracted or cooperated with, in order to produce any de- sired end by human instrumentality. This is necessary not only with reference to the purely scientific end of Social Science, bat also in reference to its efficient or practical end. It is not sufficient for the purposes of science that right conclu- sions should be arrived at. The right i-easons for those conclu- sions are also requisite. Science demands not only the truth, but the true reasons for the truth. By these we shall not only be best assured of the truth, but most likely to insure their general reception. Nay, they are often, and always to some extent, necessary to that end. No truth, indeed, can be regarded as scientifically established until its scientific reasons have been dis- covered. Before that time it Avill be, and may properly be, re- garded, as iherely empii'ical truth, needing further and truly scientific verification, which consists in establishing its essential connection with some great fundamental law, already accepted, or susceptible of demonstration. This is the true reason why so little real progress has been hitherto made in Social Science. It is the true reason why even §5.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 315 the great practical conclusions, which have been just now an- nounced, in the words of Dr. Chalmers and J. S. Mill, have not as yet been so generally accepted or widely disseminated as they ought to be. There has been no fully sufficient reason presented, no overwhelming demonstration afforded, of the grounds on which rest those great practical conclusions. This observation reveals the true great want of Social Phi- losophy in its present state. It is the want of a true and thorough DIAGNOSIS of CAUSES — a true, thorough, and exhaustive exposi- tion of THE CAUSES WHICH DETBRBIINE THE SOCIAL CONDITION OF MANKIND. This is what the author of the present work proposes specifi- cally to accomplish for Social Philosophy. He accepts the great practical conclusions which the highest thinkers have already attained, as well as many of their fundamental ideas, or reason- ings on CAUSES. But he cannot, by any means, accept their diagnosis of causes as complete, thorough, or sufficiently funda- mental and comprehensive. There has been as yet no distinguish- able organization of thought, except upon the fundamental grounds presented by the three systems already designated as the Political,' the Politico-Economical and Malthusian. These im- perfect and superficial systems — in so far as they have adapted their reasonings to the great fundamental question, lohat are tlie causes which really tend to depress the social condition of manlcind, or to militate against the welfare alike of states and individuals — have essentially, and virtually, if not avowedly, maintained that the real cause is, either that there is something wrong about the GOVERNMENT, or political institutions, as the one represents ; or that there is some deficiency of wealth, as another represents ; or some excess of population, as the third system avowedly proclaims. Very manifestly neither of these systems affords a sufficient or complete diagnosis of causes. It would be chimerical to attempt to found a correct or thorough system of social science upon any such meagre induction of causes. As well might it have been attempted to found a correct and thorough system of as- tronomy upon Kepler's laws, as to the harmony of planetary dis- tances, without the aid of the principia matiiematica. 316 GENERAL su:uM.viiT. [Chap. XIV., § G. Speaking still more particularly than before, we may say, the present status of Social Philosophy is that in Avhich sidereal philosophy was, when it had attained its Copernican idea, nay its Copernican and Keplerian ideas, but had not as yet discovered its Newtonian. In thus representing Social Philosophy, however, as having already attained its Copernican idea, we should remark that it is only with a somewhat questionable propriety that we can make the representation. For although the idea has been asserted, and repeatedly, it can hardly be said that it has been as yet fully attained. The attainment of an idea properly consists, not m its bare discovery or assertion, but in its just appreciation. Malthus was the real founder of Malthusianism — the true discoverer of the great Malthusian idea, — an idea to which he has rightly given name, as to the natural tendency of all animated life, man in- cluded, to increase beyond the means of subsistence. He was the true discoverer of the idea. He it was that made this im- portant attainment for Social Philosophy ; simply because he was the first adequately and justly to appreciate the idea — in fact to overestimate its importance, as the discoverers of new truth are so apt to do. It was not because he was the fii'st to discern or assert the idea, for he was not. Aristotle and Plato, besides many others, both in ancient and modem times, had discerned the truth, and casually asserted it. But Malthus was the first to dis- cern its great importance, its momentous bearings on the social condition and destiny of mankind. Nay, the Copernican idea of astronomy was not asserted, for the first time, by Copernicus. It had been conjectured before by Pythagoras, and distinctly recognized by the Egyptian astronomers, in so far as the revolutions of two of the planets were concerned. * What Copernicus did was to demonstrate the truth, scientifically to establish it, to put it beyond all question, to discern the uni- versality of its applications, and extend it to all the planets. Very manifestly no one has as yet accomplished this, for what we have designated as the Copernican idea of Sociology. No one has as * These -were Mercury' and Venus. § G.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 317 yet shown that he duly appreciated the idea, or discerned its true relations to Social Science. To have truly discovered the Coper- nican idea of Sociology, to haVe fully attained it indeed, it was I'equisite that the asserter of the idea should have discerned that it was the Copernican idea — that it was related to Social Science as the idea developed by Copernicus in his treatise on the motions of the Celestial Oris, was related to astronomical science. This assuredly no one has as yet done. Hence it is, that the author of the present work may, not unreasonably, claim to be the true contributor to Social Philosophy of its appropriate Coper- nican idea, although he has not been by any means the first to assert it, and although he has been to a far greater extent aided and sustained than Copernicus was, by the previous reasonings of others. The Copernican idea of Sociology has undoubtedly been as- serted, and asserted repeatedly, although it cannot properly be said to have been as yet fully attained, formally inaugurated, or rightly appreciated. In a certain sense, and to a qualified ex- tent, Social Philosophy has had many Copernicuses. Nor has it, certainly, been wanting in its Keplers, its Galileos, and its Tycho Brahes innumerable, with their vast array of important observations. AU that it now needs is the designing and com- bining mind, the penetrative and comprehensive reason, to dis- cern and apply the great remaining and undiscovered fundamen- tal law, or laws, which comprehend and harmonize all former observations, which explain and systematize all the facts. This is what the mind of Newton accomplished for sidereal philosophy. It is what some mind, not less comprehensive in- its reasonings, however much less gifted with natural strength, must accomplish for Social Philosophy. For, be it ever remembered, that lack of natural talent may be largely compensated by a greater and more earnest spirit of inquiry, and by that intensely skeptical cautiousness in drawing conclusions, which, however bold, original, and independent, in relying on its own intuitions and ratiocinations, yet dares not finally accept its own conclu- sions, until it has verified them by the accumulated Avisdom of ages, as well as by all the known facts, and until it has brought 318 GENERAL SUMMARY. [Chap. XIV., to bear upon its own particular science, the concentrated batteries of universal science. We have already pronounced Sismondi the Copernicus of Social Philosophy, or rather the inquirer who is the most deserving of that appellation — the most nearly approximated to the true Copernican idea that is to be attained. But we have already seen how far short of the true idea he has come — how imper- fectly he appreciated it.* Sismondi's appreciation of the Coper- nican idea of Sociology was, in fact, very little more thorough than was the old Egj'ptian astronomers' appreciation of the Copernican idea of astronomy. They discerned it only in regard to the revolutions of two of the planets, Mercury and Venus, Avhich they discovered to revolve around the sun. But they had no idea that the earth did the same, and all the other planets. In like manner Sismondi discerned the Copernican idea of Sociology in regard to Political Economy, but not in regard to any other realm of the vast science of Sociology. He saw and loudly proclaimed, to his distinguished credit, that it was falla- cious — at least, with any immediate view to essentially im- portant ends — to fix attention, mainly or directly, on wealth, and the abstract laws of its production, distribution, and con- sumption. He saw and loudly proclaimed that attention should rather be directed mainly and directly to man. To this extent, but no farther, does he appear to have dis- cerned the great truth that man is the true centre of the social universe, and that around him revolves all his social destin}' — his wealth, his laws, his political institutions, his religion, and the general part he plays in the great drama of human existence. For this is what we have termed, and again term, the true Copernican idea of Sociology. As Copernicus taught that, in order to master the laws of sidereal motion, it was necessary to disabuse our minds of the vulgar and merely ajiparent idea that tlie earth is the centre of the universe, or at least of our own solar system, and fix our * Sco Chapter X. § 7.] GENERAL SUMMARY. ' 319 minds outside of this world, «and upon tlie sun, as the true centre of motion and cosmical destiny, so the true Copernican idea of Sociology teaches, that, in order to master the laws of sociological motion, we must, by a directly converse process, disabuse our minds of the vulgar and merely apparent idea that the political institutions of mankind, or any mere external conditions or sur- roundings, are the centre or real controlling influence of the social system, and fix our minds ivithin ourselves — on man him- self — on those physical, moral, and intellectual energies which underlie his mere physical frame, and constitute the real man, as the true centre of all sociological motion, and all human destiny. This we say again is the true Copernican idea of Sociology, which, although many have approximated or partially asserted, none have as yet fully attained or thoroughly perceived ; although it has been nearly enough approximated, or asserted in its full significance, to justify us in regarding it as already virtually at- tained by Social Philosophy. For here, as elsewhere, the writer of these pages is disposed to accept the assertions of eminent authorities, in their full significance and utmost logical import, to enlarge rather than to restrict the meaning or rendition of their ideas. Nor shall we stop hei-e to repel exceptions, to the similitude here instituted, which might be taken by such captious and hypercritical critics as Mr. Herbert Spencer, who would doubt- lessly object to the assertion that the earth is round, because Chim- borazo and other mountain peaks rise many thousand feet above the sea level, and who appear totally regardless of the proverb of Coke, that " no metaphor runs on all-fours." In coming to de- velop more particularly, as it is pi'oposed to do in the following Part of this Series, the laws which most fundamentally determine the social condition of mankind, we shall have occasion to notice and explain some objections that might be made to this designa- tion of the Copernican idea of Sociology. § 7. Thus it appears that, aided by the expressions of anterior thinkers, and the interpretations and enlargements of the thought 320 GENERAL SUMMARY. [Chap. XIV., involved in them that are here contributed, we have the Coperni- can idea of Sociology. But what is the Newtonian idea, which we need in order to complete the Philosophy of Society, and fur- nish all the elements of a thorough Social Science ? For we need not stop to inquire what are the Keplerian or GalUean ideas. It would only be by an overstrained effort at similitude, indeed, that we could designate as such any of the ideas appertaining to Social Philosophy. It would be foreign to the purposes of the present work to respond to this question. To do so would be to communicate the thoughts which are claimed by the writer, as more peculiarly, if not exclusively, his own. These appertain to the work or part of the series immediately following this. It is the aim of the pres- ent work to notice, and bring prominently into view, only the valuable thoughts of anterior thinkei's, howevei- partially and im- perfectly expressed. No thinker as yet appears to have dis- cerned the true Newtonian idea, or as we should rather say, the true Newtonian principles of Social Science. Of all former thinkers, Comte appears to have most nearly ap- proximated these principles. Very nearly does he approximate them, when in speaking of the " objective basis," on which is to be astablished " the harmony of our moral nature," as he ex- presses himself, he says, "It rests al every point on the un- changeable order of the world."* In this expression, however, Comte conducts us only towards what may be termed the uni- versal law of social gravitation, or the centripetal force of the Social Cosmos. It does not conduct us toward the centrifugal force, nor indicate the direction in which we are to look in order to find it. The Newtonian idea, or the principle which it involves, does not relate merely to the universality of the laws of gravitation, or centripetal force, as seems to be commonly supposed. It relates rather to the universality of the laws of motion, in their double aspect of centripetal and centrifugal. These we must find, and * See Comte 's General View of Positivism. Ch. I., p. 28 ; also ante, Ch. XII of tlio present work. § 7.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 321 clearly estimate, in regard to the Social Cosmos, if wc would attain the true Newtonian idea of Social Philosophy, or its true principia maikematica. This much, however, we may well enough here say, in regard to the idea in question — thus far we may here go towards its full expression. We may state the idea in its most general form, and also present the "^speciiic formula of the problem to be solved, in order to attain its full and complete development. Most essentially and most briefly expressed, the veritable idea of Newton, which perfected astronomical science, was the uni- versality of the laws of motion, and the consequent identity of the causes which regulate the movements of an atom and a world, the smallest or the largest masses of matter. Most briefly and simply expressed, therefore, the problem which Newton had to solve was : What are the laws which regulate the movements of an atom, or the smallest considerable body, as an apple, a stone, or a cannon-ball 1 — What are the laws which regulate its mo-^- ments, when impelled by any exterior or centrifugal force, and determine whether it shall continue for ever after to maintain the centrifugal force it has received, and revolve in an orhit of its own, like the worlds, or whether that force shall be entirely counter- acted by the centripetal, and the body return again to a state of rest ? For, given these, we have the laws which regulate, only on a larger scale, the gyrations and movements of worlds. A cannon-ball, for example, fired in a horizontal direction with its usual velocity, even in the absence of atmospheric resistance, as if discharged beyond the limits of the atmosphere, we shall find, would soon expend its force and fall to the earth, as not having enough momentum within itself to maintain the imparted motion. But give it a velocity of five miles a second and it would never revisit the earth, but continue, as the astronomer Vaughn informs us, to revolve around it as a satellite, or miniature world in itself.* * See Daniel Vaughn's Popular Astronomy, pp. 55-6, Cincinnati edition, 1858. We prefer to cite here the authority of this highly meritorious philoso- 14* 322 GENERAL SUMMARY. [Chap. XIV., Such is, in brief, the Newtonian idea of astronomy — one of its simplest illustrations. The Newtonian idea of Sociology is pre- cisely analogous. It asserts the universality of the causes, or law.s, which determine the social condition of mankind, and the consequent identity of the causes which determine the social des- tiny of an individual and a nation — of the humblest individual in the human family and of the most exalted — of the pauper as well as the millionaire — of the laborer as well as the capitalist — of the peasant not less than the prince. § 8. Most briefly and simply expressed, therefore, the problem which {he Social Philosopher has to solve, the main fundamental problem, as contradistinguished from the innumerable particular and practical problems that claim his attention, is : What are the causes or laws which determine the social destiny of the in- dividual, which determine in the long run, and in the absence of extraordinary disturbing causes, whether he shah, be prosperous or the contrary, whether he shall be a pauper or millionaire, a laborer or capitalist, a peasant or prince — which determine, in short, whether his own internal momentum or centrifugal force shall be overpowered by the potent gravitation, or centripetal force, which is constantly prostrating human efforts, or shall en- able him to maintain an independent position, and revolve in an ORBIT OF HIS OAVN. For, given these causes or laws, we have precisely the causes or laws, which determine the destiny of nations, the rise and fall of empires. Thus do we in Sociology not less than in Astronomy, nay. not less than in univejisal science, by the same laws or principles, solve the simplest and the grandest problems. § 9. Surely these few observations in regard to the true New- tonian idea of Sociology, however general and abstract, must be sufficient to suggest to scientific or philosophical thought, the whole 2)rincipia vmtliematica of Sociology. Should the work of pher precisely because he is so little known and appreciated. lie is one of the world'.s many unknown heroes. Happj' v/orld! how much richer is it in intel- lectual treasuric.« than it know^s of, or, al;u«, cares to know ! § 9.] GENEKAI. SUMMARY. 323 the present inquirer, therefore, end here, it will not have been entirely in vain that he has devoted the best hours of his brief existence to the development of that system of thought, of which the thoughts here presented are but disjointed fragments. Nay, flippant criticism and superficial reasoning may exclaim, in reference to the most essential teachings of the new Social Philosophy, how simple is all that — what great difficulty is there about it — who did not know that much before— who did not know what are the causes on which depend the welfare of an in- dividual? The only reply to which reasoning, that need be of- fered here, is — so spake they about the egg, and how easy it was to set it up on the end. Easy enough it was, doubtless, to sail westward until they reached land. But why did they not do it before Columbus led the way ? Easy enough it is too to discern, when one looks the matter squarely in the face, that the causes of the welfare or decline of states and individuals, are identical, and that, so regarded, the solution of the main fundamental problem of Social Philosophy becomes simple enough. But why have not mankind discovered the simple though grand truth before, applied it to the great prac- tical issues of society, and drawn from it its vast and far-reaching conclusions? Why have they not, in all their discussions and contentions for the last two thousand years and upwards, elicited the idea ? Or, if they may have happened, now and then, in some of their conflicts, to stumble upon the idea, why have they not had the sagacity to appreciate it, to seize upon it, to appropriate it, to elevate it into due prominence, and make it the basis of that new, more enlarged, and correct system of thought, in regard to the destinies of society, which, to the justly discerning mind, it may readily suggest ? Simple truths ! Yes, simple, plain, and familiar truths, when most essentially rendered, are those which the writer of these pages is most solicitous to bring prominently into view, and to stereotype upon the thought and brain of the world. For it is precisely these truths that mankind are constantly prone to ignore, and to lose sight of, in their larger reasonings. Simple, 324 GENERAL SUMMARY. [Chap. XlV., plain, and familiar truths, most essentially considered, they arc, and therefore they are true. Let none despise the simple truths. They are the true types, the exact miniatures, of the large ones The true function of the philosopher, or true man of genius, is ever to bring men back to the simple truths, from whicli they are constantly prone to wander and go astray. The greatest triumphs of philosophy often consist in merely bringing men back to a more just, clear, and thorough apprehension of some of the simplest and most familiar truths. Extremes everywhere tend to meet. The smallest and the greatest men are aUke distinguished by their simplicity and humility. The smallest and the greatest truths lie near together. A dew-drop is a miniature of the ocean. An atom is a sample of the universe. True philosophy delights in simple truths. It deals in them. Its true business is to go back to the most simple, elementary, and fundament^il truths ; which are to be found almost everj-where cropping out, in the world of thought like the primeval rocks of the terrestrial v.-orld, and with which the humblest minds are to some extent familiar. The course of true philosophy is like the course of the indi- vidual man — the true or model man, if we may assume such to exist — in his course of life. It begins with simplicity and ends with simplicity. Mark the course of man in his earthly develop- ment. How simple and unaffected is the prattle of childhood — with its deep questions, now and then thrown out, that puzzle the profoundest philosopher ! How turgid, frothy, and grandiloquent, is juvenility, when it has just begun to smatter in learning, and has become intoxicated with its "first fevered drauglits of the Pierean Spring!" How simple again becomes the conduct and conversation of true manhood, when "deeper imbibations" have sobered it again! The Chinese have a proverb, that "the truly wise man never lays aside the simplicity of a child." Might we not almost make the same observation of a truly wise philosophy? Like, the truly wise man, in his general conduct and conversation it ends as it began with the simplicity of childhood. Said we not rightly before, the smallest and the greatest truths lie near § 10.] , GENERAL SDMMARY. 325 together ? Extremes must ever tend to meet. The origin and the end of all things are the same. There was once at Rome an orator of such rare merit, that when he spoke, though all listened with the utmost attention, all were prompted to exclaim, when he had finished, how plain, simple, and obvious, is all that he has said — who could not have said just what he has told us. Yet there Avas no other man in Rome that could speak as this man* Is not this again an apt illustration of the talk of true phi- losophy ? It conducts us through some of the greatest difficulties that can possibly be surmounted by the human understanding, and does it so simply that, in many cases, one can hardly help ex- claiming, what is there that it tells us that we did not know be- fore ? It conducts us to some of the grandest and most important conclusions, by simply extending and carrying forward, to their true logical conclusions, ideas which are familiar to the minds of all. § 10. According to the plan originally intended by the writer of these pages, the preliminary work, entitled Review, Historical and Critical, of the Dif event Systems of Thought in Social Philosophy, of which the present work forms part, would properly end here, at the close of that which is properly the Sixth Part of that Re- view, or Series of Reviews. It was the original intention to add, in a Seventh Part, the general reasons which demand a new sys- tem, and to indicate merely the general drift or tendency of the new system — reserving, however, any presentation of the distin- guishing fundamental ideas of that new system, for the subse- quent and main Avork of the author, his Inquiry into the Causes which Determine the Social Condition of Mankind. As the preliminary work, however, proceeded, amid many diffi- culties, discouragements, and interruptions, expanding continually in volume with unanticipated expansion of thought, and exten- sion of observation, on the part of the writer, apprehension be- * "Will the editor of " Notes and Queries" inform us who this orator was? For it has eseaped the author's recollection. It M^isnot Cicero or Hortensius, but some' one of an earlier date. 32G GENERAT. SUJIMAEY. [Chap. XIV., gan to arise that this mere preliminary undertaking might prove unintentionally the labor of a lifetime, and that death might overtake the laborer, before he had got to the proper commence- ment, even of his own peculiar work. Thus would he be ex- pending his life in bringing before the world the thoughts of others, which it already had, while his own, which it had not, would re- main unannounced — a labor indeed not unworthy of a lifetime, although not fully equal to that which the workman had proposed to himself. For the thoughts which the world already had, on the momentous questions here dealt with, though many of them of great value, lay so scattered, and disconnectedly, over the field of discussion that they were not duly appreciated, nor even under- stood. The work which the present laborer had undertaken, in this preliminary enterprise, of systematizing and arranging, in somewhat logical order, those thoughts, could not but prove a valuable one to the scientific world — nay, we might venture to say, as valuable to the student of the world of thought, however much less entertaining, as the work of the historian Gibbon, at least, to the student of the world of action. This, however, was not precisely, nor properly, what the Avriter aimed at. It was to get his own thoughts before the world, that he mainly proposed, and merely as means to this end, as a most proper mode of introducing his own thoughts, he sought to present a systematic and condensed statement of the substance of all anterior thought. How was this important preliminary work, then already far advanced, to be carried forward, without sacrificing the main object — the very end to which it was origi- nally intended as a mere means ? The thought then occurred, and the resolution was formed, to embody in the Seventh and last part of the preliminary work, that Avhich yet remains to be written, not only the general drift or tendency of the main work, but a complete synopsis of its main ideas, and outline of its plan. Thus would be rescued from oblivion his main ideas, even though death should cut short his career, and his arduous and unrequited labor of life would not have been wholly in vain. In short the writer found himself, metaphorically if not literally, somewhat in the condition of the great geographical discoverer, § 10.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 327 when on his homeward voyage, driven by stress of weather and apprehending shipwreck, hewrotea brief narrative of his discoveries, and, enclosing it in a. cask, cast it into the sea, hoping that it raight reach some civilized coast, and rescue from oblivion the important discoveries he had made. When he considered the uncertainties of life, the difficulties of the voyage on whicli he was embarked, the frailness of tlie hulk to which his destinies for the voyage Avere committed, beaten by many storms, and sorely pressed by stress of weather, he despaired of ever reaching land, with his cargo of thoughts, and resolved to write out a brief outline of those thoughts — of his observations, discoveries, and conclusions — and enclcising them in this preliminary work, commit them to the deep of human thoughts, trusting that they might be picked up, or drift to some enlightened shore, and suggest to some more favored explorer, those discoveries which, as it seemed, he was not to be permitted to communicate. Animated with this purpose, his labors were prosecuted with renewed energy. But even in this he seems to have been doomed to disappointment. The magnitude of the preliminary work has expanded beyond all calculation — threatening the dimensions of two closely-packed volumes, of the largest sized qptavo, seven hundred pages each — and the expense of publishing has expanded accordingly — a consideration of no small moment with a work far above the comprehension of the masse?, wholly inappreciable by the generality even of scholars, and having no hopes of even the smallest consideration except from the few, the very few, who most essentially constitute the world of thought — the truly philosophical world — the one in the million. Thus has it become doubtful whether the writer will be per- mitted, by that inexorable fate which so unrelentingly and merci- lessly pursues some men, to get even his preliminary thoughts be- fore the world, with the condensed statement which they embody of his main thoughts. Thus does it again appear probable that he will be overtaken by death before ho shall have been permitted to make known, even in very small part, the objects for which he has lived. 32S GEXERAL SX3IMABT. [Chap. XIV.. Apprehending this fate, disgusted with so much del.iy and so manv discouragements, constmined moreover bj a sense of duty to othei"s — whose interests he does not feel at liberty to sacritioe at the neglected shrine of truth, as he is willing to sacrilice his own — to forego, for the future, mH^h more than in the juist, the thank- less pursuit of KXO'mxiHTE, for the more appreciated one of profit) he has resolved to submit at once the few thoughts and observa- tions in this small vohime contained, comprising the Sixth Part only of his entire preliminary work, to the consideration of the world, or the very few of the world whom thoy can ever dii-ectly reach. In prosecuting this resolve, in preparing this brief volume of thoughts :uid observations, he has kept steadily in view the for- mer purpose, of rescuing from oblivion his own main ideas, and, with tliat view, of imitating, although on a much smivUer scale than before intended, the example of the illustrious ^•A\^OAT0K, as already cited. In communicating the higher thoughts that he has discovered in others, with which this volume is mainly freighted, he has taken care so to we.ive around them his own thoughts and observations, or actually to superadd them, by way of addendum, as in this last chapter, that subsequent inquirers, future explorers in these seas of thought, can have no great ditH- culty in recovering the observations, and repeating the discoveries wliich he has made, apparently to so little purpose. These lie now commits to the uncertmn waves of human inquiry and ac- tivity, trusting that in some future age, if not in the present, they may dril\ to some enlightened shore, and be rightly applied to hu- man good Having done this be feels relieved of a great anxiety, is in- spired with the hope that his labors may prove to hare been not wholly in vain, is consoled by the reflection that, although it is but little he has done, he has done tlie best that he could, under all the many disadvantageous circumstances by which he has been on all sides surrounded, and is enabled, with some satis- taction, to take leave of the world, at the very moment of first in- truding himself upon its attention. § 10.] GEN'ERAI. SLMMAUY. 329 In one noteworthy re?pect, besule others not les3 important, it may be worth while to add, the mariner wlio here throws over- board, from his too heavily belabored bark, this brief suggestion of his discoveries, differs from the gkkat jiarinek whose example he thus seeks to imitate. Not like that illustrious and more fa- vored navigator, did he set sail, on the voyage of discovery, with any great expectations, plans, or purposes — still less under the protection of royal navies and exchequers. For the mariner who attempts to explore these seas of thought must furnish his own outfit ; and should his poorly provided craft founder at sea, or be wrecked upon the reefs, no royal gazette regretfully an- nounces his disaster, or even notifies the world in what latitude or longitude the unregarded craft was steering her way, when she was last seen struggling with the waves. Not with any large intentions, nor with views the result of long and mature reflection, did this navigator of the seas of thought begin hLs voyage of discovery. But unexpectedly he has l)cen dnftcd into far larger explorations than ho had originally in- tended — explorations so large, indeed, that, had he known such would have to ha undertaken, he would scarcely have ventured to set sail. How often are men unconsciously drifted into their destiny! How little do they discern the ends of those .endeavors, of which they plan, at most, only the beginnings ! Some twenty years ago, or somewhat less, this weather-beaten mariner of these seas of thought, set sail on a youthful adventure, following the drift of one only of the many important questions,* which had been much di.scussed, concerning the deeps of Social Philosophy. Unawares he was drifted far out to sea, which, however, he feared not to attempt. Nor had he long been at sea before he found himself drifting on the great GLM---STEf:AM of hu- man destiny. Unable to resist the mighty current, of which be- fore he knew but little, and far less inclined to do so, he lent him- self to the momentum, and was carried along with it. On, on, he * This was the Malthusian drift. 330 GENERAL SUiEVIAKY. [Chap. XIV., sped, passing often in review the floating fi-agments of former em- pires, and the more numerous wrecks of individual fortunes. When at length the mighty current had swept him through many degrees of latitude and longitude, he began to take his •reckoning. Then, with far larger ideas, and more extended ob- servations, he discovered that his original purpose would be of little avail, to very small purpose. Then he discovered that it would be of little or no use to present partial observations or sug- gestions, concerning such vast seas of thought — that tht »vorld had already had enough of such partial work — that what it now wanted were comprehensive, systematic, and conclusive observa- tions — that it no longer needed mere charts, showing the directions of a few winds or currents — that it needed rather a comprehensive map, compassing the whole of this vast comprehensive sea of thought, showing all its main currents, winds, harbors, headlands, and reefs, with their respective bearings and relations to each other, and thus presenting in general outline the whole field for investigation, leaving, of course, large spaces lor future and more particular observations. This, which we have long had in physical geography, it became evident to his mind was not less needed in social geography. This was the comprehensive, large, and systematic work, which he saw clearly the world now needed. It was precisely the work which accorded with the natural propensities of his mind. For large enterprises, or none at all, could arouse its ordinarily slug- gish energies. Through and thorough work, searching complete and exhaustive efforts, or none at all, were precisely what his mind required. Such was all it was capable of executing, except in a most slovenly and indifferent manner. Large and thorough efforts it sought and longed for. Small work of any kind was not possible to it. What then was he to do ? Was he to abandon the enterpVisc on which he had embarked, and sailed so far, without accomplish- ing anything ? Not readily — least of all when the work de- manded, by the requirements of the world, was precisely that for which he was the best adapted, and when he found himself, thus unexpectedly, drifted into the very position for .which Destiny § 10.] GENERAL SUMMARY. 331 seemed to have intended liim. What then was he to do ? Evi- dently go forward, and execute the work into Avhlch he had been drifted, as it were, ahnost wholly Avithout any agency of his own. He resolved to make the attempt. He spread his canvas to the breeze. He sailed onward. He courted every wind. He drifted with every current. He traversed every sea, and coasted every shore — sailing landward or seaward as occasion seemed to demand. He has availed himself of the most approved charts of former- navigators, and superadded extensive ones of his own, revising and correcting former ones by his own more recent ob- servations. He has thus not only visited every sea and coast, of any note, ever visited by former navigators, but many a sea where no navigator has been as yet reported, and many a coast where no trace of human footstep before has been discovered. After a cruise of nearly twenty years, thus directed, in these seas of thought, the toil-worn navigator finds himself now home- ward bound. Gladly wonld he reach the yet distant shore, and report at large his extensive observations and discovei'ies. But can such good fortune be destined to attend him, and his hitherto wholly unrecognized labors, trials, and self-sacrifices? It is not now to be hoped. The bark on which his life destiny is freighted, frail at best, has been beaten by too many storms, and is now too sorely pressed by heavy stress of weather. The ship has nearly run her course. It is not to be expected that she can successfully encounter the difficulties which must yet be endured before she can hope to reach the port. What then ? Shall all his explorations, toils, self-denials, life- sacrifice, for the cause of knowledge and human advancement, prove for naught? Shall he perish, with his many unspoken thoughts, and dearly purchased observations, and the world not know, even in part, for what he has lived — for what he has re- ^^ained so long unreported ? Nay, shall mankind at large gain nothing by his loss — his life-sacrifice ? Shall they learn nothing of that, which he has expended his life, in order that they might learn? Shall they know nothing of all that which he has re- mained unhnown in order that they might knoiv f It is devoutly hoped not. To prevent this result — this saddest 332 GENERAL SU3DIARY. [Chap. XIV. consummation of life-trials — this little volume of thoughts, this small envelope of observations and reflections, hastily prepared, and under pressing exigencies, is now committed to the waves of trouble that surge around. It is cast forth as a solitary waif, evidently destined long to flout unobserved upon the watery waste. Some day perchance it may be picked up, and suggest to some more favored explorer those tracks of inquiry which it seems not intended that the present explorer shidl be permitted to make known. Is it not possible, moreover, in these days of so many sail, of so much navigation, that some mariner traversing these seas, discerning this waif, and deciphering its import, may have his attention turned in the right direction, and bring relief to 4he dis- tressed mariner ? No such possibility is to be anticipated. Such relief comes only to the distressed mariner of the briny seas. They who navigate the seas of thought must sail on their own hook, and at their own peril. There is no such possibility. But may not the hope be cherished that, while the mariner is cast away, his cargo of ideas may be preserved in part — that the thoughts now cast upon the waters may not be lost, but drift at length to some appreciative shore ? Actuated by this hope, he now commits this little waif, — this brief suggestion of his observations and reflections — to the great sea of human thoughts. Let it drift whithersoever the WINDS and curkents may impel. \mm' ^"^ '-^ ft / mms-A 0/- .'MH'Nr-"^ HvDJO'^ L 005 485 183 7 AA 001035 910 7