The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 2, February, 1864
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Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 2, February, 1864
Author: Various
Release date: June 11, 2006 [eBook #18554]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY, VOL. 5, NO. 2, FEBRUARY, 1864 ***
Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
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|Transcibers note: The letter "o" with a macron is rendered [=o] in this text, |
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THE
CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
DEVOTED TO
LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
* * * * *
VOL. V.--FEBRUARY, 1864--NO. II.
* * * * *
THOMAS JEFFERSON, AS SEEN BY THE LIGHT OF 1863.
Mr. Jefferson, in his lifetime, underwent the extremes of abuse and of
adulation. Daily, semi-weekly, or weekly did Fenno, Porcupine Cobbett,
Dennie, Coleman, and the other Federal journalists, not content with
proclaiming him an ambitious, cunning, and deceitful demagogue, ridicule
his scientific theories, shudder at his irreligion, sneer at his
courage, and allude coarsely to his private morals in a manner more
discreditable to themselves than to him; crowning all their accusations
and innuendoes with a reckless profusion of epithet. While at the same
times and places the whole company of the Democratic press, led by
Bache, Duane, Cheetham, Freneau, asserted with equal energy that he was
the greatest statesman, the profoundest philosopher, the very sun of
republicanism, the abstract of all that was glorious in democracy. And
if Abraham Bishop, of New Haven, Connecticut, compared him with Christ,
a great many New Englanders of more note than Bishop, pronounced him the
man of sin, a malignant manifestation of Satan. On one or the other of
these two scales he was placed by every man in the United States,
according to each citizen's modicum of sense and temper. We say, every
man--because in that war of the Democrats against the Federalists, no
one sought to escape the service. Every able-tongued man was ready to
fight with it, either for Jefferson or against him.
When Jefferson passed away triumphant, toleration set in. His enemies
dropped him to turn upon living prey. They came to acquiesce in him, and
even to quote him when he served their purpose. But the admiration of
his followers did not abate. They canonized him as the apostle of
American democracy, and gave his name to the peculiar form of the
doctrine they professed. For many years the utterances of the master
were conclusive to the common men of the party--better far than the
arguments of any living leader. Of late we have heard less of him. The
right wing of the democracy begin to doubt the expediency of the States'
Rights theory; and with the wrong wing his standing has been injured by
the famous passage on slavery in the 'Notes on Virginia.' The wrong wing
of the Democratic party are the men who cry out for the 'Constitution as
it is, and the Union as it was'--a cry full of sound and often of fury;
but what does it signify? The first gun that was fired at Fort Sumter
shattered the old Union. If peace men and abolitionists, secessionists
and conservatives were to agree together to restore the old Union to the
_status quo ante bellum_, they could not do it. 'When an epoch is
finished,' as Armand Carrel once wrote, 'the mould is broken, it cannot
be made again.' All that can be done is to gather up the fragments, and
to use them wisely in a new construction. An Indian neophyte came one
day to the mission, shouting: 'Moses, Isaiah, Abraham, Christ, John the
Baptist!' When out of breath, the brethren asked him what he meant. 'I
mean a glass of cider.' If the peace party were as frank as the Indian,
they would tell us that their cry signifies place, power, self. The
prodigal sons of the South are to be lured back by promises of pardon,
indemnification, niggers _ad libitum_, before they have satiated
themselves with the husks which seem to have fallen to their portion,
and are willing to confess that they have sinned against heaven and
against their country. The arms of the peace men are open; the best
robe, the ring, the fatted calf are ready. All that is asked in return
is a Union (as it was) of votes, influence, and contributions, to place
the party in power and to keep it there.
These misguided Democrats owe to Jefferson the war cries they shout and
the arms they are using against the Government. His works are an arsenal
where these weapons of sedition are arranged ready for use, bright and
in good order, and none of them as yet superseded by modern
improvements. He first made excellent practice with the word
'unconstitutional,' an engine dangerous and terrible to the
Administration against which it is worked; and of easy construction, for
it can be prepared out of anything or nothing. Jefferson found it very
effective in annoying and embarrassing the Government in his campaigns.
But as he foresaw that the time must come when the Supreme Court of the
United States would overpower this attack, he adapted, with great
ingenuity, to party warfare the theory of States' Rights, which in 1787
had nearly smothered the Constitution in its cradle. This dangerous
contrivance he used vigorously against the alien and sedition law,
without considering that his blows were shaking the Union itself. Mr.
Calhoun looked upon the Kentucky Resolutions (Jefferson's own work) as
the bill of rights of nullification, and wrote for a copy of them in
1828 to use in preparing his manifesto of the grievances of South
Carolina. It is unnecessary to allude to the triumph of these doctrines
at the South under the name of secession.
As Jefferson soon perceived that a well-disciplined band of needy
expectants was the only sure resort in elections, he hit upon rotation
in office as the cheapest and most stimulating method of paying the
regular soldiers of party for their services (if successful) on these
critical occasions. But as a wise general not only prepares his attack,
but carefully secures a retreat in case his men push too far in the heat
of conflict, Jefferson suggested the plan of an elective judiciary,
which he foresaw might prove of great advantage to those whose zeal
should outrun the law. He even recommended rebellion in popular
governments as a political safety valve; and talked about Shay's War and
the Whiskey Insurrection in the same vein and almost the same language
that was lately used to the rioters of New York by their friends and
fellow voters. And he and his followers shouted then, as their
descendants shout now, 'Liberty is in danger!' 'The last earthly hope of
republican institutions resides in our ranks!' Jefferson is also
entitled to the credit of naturalizing in the United States the phrases
of the French Revolution: virtue of the people; reason of the people;
natural rights of man, etc.--that Babylonish dialect, as John Adams
called it, which in France meant something, but in this country was
mere cant. Jefferson knew that here all were people, and that no set of
men, whether because of riches or of poverty, had the right to arrogate
to themselves this distinction. But he also knew that in Europe this
distinction did exist, and that the emigrants who were coming in such
numbers all belonged to the lower class, there called people. Of course
these flattering phrases would win their ears and their votes for the
people's ticket, against an imaginary aristocracy. Thus might be secured
an army of obedient voters, knowing nothing but their orders, and
thinking of nothing but the pleasing idea that they were the rulers.
These useful inventions are enough to immortalize any man. His theory,
that the rich only should be taxed, as an indirect form of agrarianism,
ought not to be forgotten, for we see it daily carried out; and his
darling doctrine, that no generation can bind its successors, will come
to light again and life whenever a party may think the repudiation of
our war debt likely to be a popular measure. Indeed, there is scarcely a
form of disorganization and of disorder which Jefferson does not extract
from some elementary principle or natural right. We do not mean to
accuse him of doing wrong deliberately. Jefferson was an optimist. All
was for the best--at least, all that he did; for he was naturally
predisposed to object to any measure which did not originate with
himself or had not been submitted to his judgment. His elementary
principles were always at his call. They were based upon reason: how
could they be wrong? His mind grasped quickly all upon the surface that
suited his purpose; deeper he did not care to go. In deciding whether
any political doctrine was consistent or inconsistent with natural
reason, he generally judged of it by his reason--and this varied with
his position, his interest, his feelings. He probably was not aware of
the extent of his mutations; his mind was fixed on the results to be
obtained--always the same: the gratification of his wishes. His was a
Vicar-of-Bray kind of logic. The ultimate results of his dealings, as
affecting others and the nation at large, he apparently was unable to
consider, or put them aside for the time; taking it for granted, in a
careless way, that all must come well.
Thus as times changed, he changed with them. Laws, measures, customs,
men, that seemed useful and praiseworthy when he was a private
individual, appeared pernicious and wicked to the Secretary of State or
to the President. His life and writings are full of self-contradictions,
or rather of self-refutations, for he seems to forget that he had ever
thought differently. Men of sense modify their opinions as they advance
in years and in wisdom, but very few men of sense have held
diametrically different opinions on almost every important question that
has come before them.
Jefferson satisfied himself early in life that slavery was wrong,
morally and economically. On no subject has he expressed himself more
decidedly. When a very young member of the Assembly of Virginia, he
seconded Colonel Bland's motion to extend the protection of the laws to
slaves. Bland was treated roughly, and the matter dropped. From
Jefferson's original draft of the Declaration of Independence a long
passage on the iniquity of slavery and the slave trade was stricken out
by Congress. In 1778 he introduced a bill prohibiting the importation of
slaves into Virginia. Two years later he wrote the well-known pages in
the 'Notes.' In 1783 it was proposed to adopt a new constitution in
Virginia; Jefferson drew one up, and inserted an article granting
liberty to all persons born of slave parents after the year 1800. From
that time his zeal began to cool. He perceived that his views were
unpopular at the South. The 'Notes' had been printed for private
circulation only; when Châstellux asked permission to publish them in
France, Jefferson consented on the condition that all passages relating
to slavery should be stricken out.[A] Although he adopted so heartily
the most extravagant doctrines of the French Revolution on the natural
rights of mankind, among which liberty, equality, fraternity certainly
ranked first, he quietly ignored the claims of the American black to a
share in the bright future that was promised to the human race. The act
of Congress prohibiting the importation of slaves came into force in
1808. It was well received by slave owners, for it increased the value
of the homemade 'article.' Jefferson could safely approve of it. He did
so warmly. With that exception his silence on this great question was
profound during the period of his power; but he had no language too
theatrical for liberty in the abstract, nor too violent for despots who
were three thousand miles away, and with whose oppressions the people of
the United States had no concern whatever. When the debates on the
admission of Missouri brought up this ever-recurring question again to
the exclusion of all others, Jefferson spoke to sneer at the friends of
freedom. The Federalists had found out that their cherished monarchical
'form' would get them no adherents, and so were trying to throw a new
tub to the whale by appealing to the virtuous sentiments of the people.
He was in favor of making Missouri a Slave State. To extend the area of
slavery would increase the comfort of the slaves without adding one more
to their number, and would improve their chances for emancipation. It
would also relieve Virginia from the burden that was weighing her
down--slaves being rather cheaper there than horses--and would enable
her to export her surplus crop of negroes; perhaps eventually to dispose
of them all. This last notion, by the way, gives us a pretty good idea
of Jefferson's practical knowledge of political economy.
His chief objection to the new constitution, when he first saw it, was
the omission in it of a bill of rights providing for the 'eternal and
unremitting force of the habeas corpus act'--and for the freedom of the
press. When Colonel Burr was arrested, Jefferson, who, by the way,
showed a want of dignity and self-respect throughout the affair, was
eager to suspend the habeas corpus act, and got a bill to that effect
passed by one branch of Congress; it was lost in the other. This was the
first instance in the history of the United States. The many fine things
he had said on the integrity and independence of judges did not prevent
him from finding bitter fault with Chief-Justice Marshall for not
convicting Burr. He accused Marshall and the whole tribe of Federalists
of complicity in Burr's conspiracy. Poor old Paine, then near his end,
who was one of Jefferson's jackals of the press, informed the
Chief-Justice, through the _Public Advertiser_, that he was 'a suspected
character.' When Jefferson had felt the pricking of the Federal quills,
he began to think differently of the freedom of the press. Once, in the
safety of private station, he had got off this antithesis: if he had to
choose between a government without newspapers, and newspapers without a
government, he should prefer the latter. But when in his turn he felt
the stings that previously, under his management, had goaded even
Washington out of his self-control, Jefferson could not help saying that
'a suspension of the press would not more completely deprive the nation
of its benefits than is done by its abandoned prostitution to
falsehood.'
Before September, 1791, Mr. Jefferson thought that our affairs were
proceeding in a train of unparalleled prosperity, owing to the real
improvements of the Government, and the unbounded confidence reposed in
it by the people. Soon a jealousy of Hamilton came upon him, and the
displeasure of playing a second part: he began to look for relief in the
ranks of the malcontents. He then perceived monarchical longings in the
Administration party, and prophesied corruption, despotism, and a loss
of liberty forever, if they were to be allowed to interpret the
Constitution in their way. Washington was the Atlas whose broad
shoulders bore up the Federalists. Bache, of the _Aurora_, with whom
Jefferson's word was law, and Freneau, of the _Gazette_, who had
received from Jefferson a clerkship in the Department of State, accused
the General of a desire to subvert the Constitution: the reserve of his
manners was said to proceed from an affectation of royalty; they even
ventured to charge him with perverting the public money. Jefferson
refused to check these base attacks, and wrote in the same vein himself
in the famous letter to Mazzei. But after the battle had been fought, he
perceived that Washington had a hold stronger than party feelings on the
affections of Americans. It would never do to leave his name and fame in
the custody of Federalists. And so Mr. Jefferson turned about and denied
that he had ever made any charges against General Washington. On the
contrary, he felt certain that Washington did not harbor one principle
of Federalism. He was neither an Angloman, a monarchist, nor a
separatist. Bache he (Jefferson) knew nothing about; over Freneau he had
no control; and the Mazzei letter had been misprinted and
misinterpreted. In spite of his hatred of England, and his fears lest
the English 'form' should be adopted in the United States, Jefferson, in
1788, had recommended the English form to Lafayette for the use of
France. And in spite of the admiration for France, which with him and
the Democrats was an essential article of the party faith, he took
offence with the French Government because they sided with Spain in the
dispute on the boundary line between Louisiana and Florida, and proposed
to Madison an alliance with England against France and Spain. But
Madison kept him steady. Six months later he accused John Randolph, who
had abandoned the party, of entertaining the intolerable heresy of a
league with England.
Mr. Jefferson once thought it necessary that the United States should
possess a naval force. It would be less dangerous to our liberties than
an army, and a cheaper and more effective weapon of offence. 'The sea is
the field on which we should meet a European enemy.' 'We can always have
a navy as strong as the weaker nations.' And he suggested that thirty
ships, carrying 1,800 guns, and manned by 14,400 men, would be an
adequate force. But the New Englanders, those bitter Federalists, loved
the sea, lived by foreign trade, and wanted a fleet to protect their
merchantmen. Mr. Jefferson's views became modified. He took a strong
dislike to the naval service. He condemned the use of the navy by the
late President, and wished to sell all the public armed vessels.
Finding, however, that the maritime tastes of the nation were too strong
for him, he hit upon the plan of a land navy as the nearest
approximation to no navy at all. Gunboats were to be hauled out of the
water, and kept in drydocks under sheds, in perfect preservation. A
fleet of this kind only needed a corps of horse marines to complete its
efficiency. The Federalists laughed at these 'mummy frigates,' and sang
in a lullaby for Democratic babes this stanza:
'In a cornfield, high and dry,
Sat gunboat Number One;
Wiggle waggle went her tail,
Pop went her gun.'
The pleasantry is feeble; but the inborn absurdity of this amphibious
scheme was too great even for the Democrats. Mr. Jefferson was forced,
in the teeth of theory, to send a squadron against the Barbary pirates.
He consoled himself by ordering the commodore not to overstep the
strict line of defence, and to make no captures. It was to be a display
of latent force. Strange as it may seem, he once doubted the expediency
of encouraging immigration. Emigrants from absolute monarchies, as they
all were, they would either bring with them the principles of government
imbibed in early youth, or exchange these for an unbounded
licentiousness. 'It would be a miracle were they to stop precisely at
the point of temperate liberty.' Would it not be better for the nation
to grow more slowly, and have a more 'homogeneous, more peaceable, and
more durable' government? But when it was found at a later day that the
new comers placed themselves at once in opposition to the better classes
and voted the Democratic ticket almost to a man, Jefferson proposed that
the period of residence required by the naturalization laws to qualify a
voter should be shortened. He had no objection to coercion before 1787.
Speaking of the backwardness of some of the colonies in paying their
quota of the Confederate expenses, he recommends sending a frigate to
make them more punctual. 'The States must see the rod, perhaps some of
them must be made to feel it.' His somersets of opinion and conduct are
endless. Once he talked of opening a market in the neighboring colonies
by force; at another time he advised his countrymen to abandon the sea
and let other nations carry for us; in 1785 we find him going abroad to
negotiate commercial treaties with all Europe. He objected to internal
improvements, and he sanctioned the Cumberland road. He proclaimed all
governments naturally hostile to the liberties of the people, until he
himself became a government. He made the mission to Russia for Mr.
Short, regardless of repeated declarations that the public business
abroad could be done better with fewer and cheaper ambassadors. The
unlucky sedition law was so unconstitutional in his judgment that he
felt it to be his duty, as soon as he mounted the throne, to pardon all
who had been convicted under it. But before he left the White House he
attempted to put down Federal opposition in the same way. Judges were
impeached; United States attorneys brought libel suits against editors,
and even prosecuted such men as Judge Reeve and the Rev. Mr. Backus of
Connecticut. It was a pet doctrine of Jefferson that one generation had
no right to bind a succeeding one; hence every constitution and all laws
should become null and every national debt void at the end of nineteen
years, or of whatever period should be ascertained to be the average
duration of human life after the age of twenty-one. He adhered to this
notion through life, although Mr. Madison, when urged by him to expound
it, gently pointed out its absurdity. When the news of the massacres of
September reached the United States at an unfortunate moment for the
Francoman party, Jefferson forgot this elementary principle and his
logic. He professed that he deplored the bloody fate of the victims as
much as any man, but they had perished for the sake of future
generations, and that thought consoled him. Finally, the man who had
announced in a public address, that he considered it a moral duty never
to subscribe to a lottery, nor to engage in a game of chance, petitioned
the Legislature of Virginia for permission to dispose of his house and
lands in a raffle, and in his memorial recapitulated his services to the
country to strengthen his claim upon their indulgence.
Jefferson professed great faith in human nature; but he meant the human
nature of the uneducated and the poor. Kings, rulers, nobles, rich
persons, and generally all of the party opposed to him, were hopelessly
wrong. The errors of the people, when they committed any, were
accidental and momentary; but in the other class, they were proofs of an
ineradicable perversity. His faith in human reason as the only power
for good government must have been shaken by the students of his
university in Virginia. Their lawless conduct seemed to indicate that
the time had hardly yet come when the old and vulgar method of authority
and force could be dispensed with. The University of Virginia was a
favorite project of Jefferson and an honorable memorial of his love of
education and of letters. Although it may be considered a failure, it
has failed from no fault of his. But we may judge of the real extent of
Jefferson's toleration, when we read in a letter written about this
university: 'In the selection of our law professor we must be rigorously
attentive to his political principles.'
It is easy to know what would be Jefferson's position if by some miracle
of nature he were living in these times. If at the South, he would be a
man of brave words--showing it to be a natural right of the white man to
own and to chastise his negro--and proving, from elementary principles,
that slavery is the result of the supremacy of reason and the corner
stone of civilized society. Had the advantages of the North led him to
desert Monticello for the banks of the Hudson, he would have opposed the
Administration, acting and talking much like a certain high official,
'letting I dare not wait upon I would'--for Jefferson was not a bold
man, was master of the art of insinuating his opinions instead of
stating them manfully, and never advanced so far as to make retreat
impossible.
The truth is that there was nothing great nor even imposing in
Jefferson's mental nor in his moral qualities. He expressed himself well
in conversation and on paper, although a little pedagogical in manner,
and too much given to epithet in style. The literary claims of the
author of the Declaration of Independence cannot be passed over lightly.
His mind was active; catching quickly the outlines of a subject, he
jumped at the conclusion which pleased his fancy, without looking
beneath the surface.[B] He was curious in all matters of art,
literature, and science, but his curiosity was easily appeased. He raves
about Ossian, gazes for hours on the Maison Carrée at Nismes, writes
letters to Paine on arcs and catenaries, busies himself with
vocabularies, natural history, geology, discourses magisterially about
Newton and Lavoisier, and studies nothing thoroughly. One can see by the
way in which he handles his technical terms that he does not know the
use of them. He was a smatterer of that most dangerous kind, who feel
certain they have arrived at truth. Like so many other children of the
eighteenth century, he rejected the past with disdain, but was blindly
credulous of the future; and was ready to embrace an absurdity if it
came in a new and scientific shape. The marquises and abbés he met in
France had dreamed over elementary principles of society and government,
until they had lost themselves in wandering mazes like Milton's
speculative and erring angels. He believed that those gay _philosophes_
had discovered the magical stone of social science, and that misery and
sin would be transmuted into virtue and happiness. It was only necessary
to kill all the kings and to confide in the reason and virtue of the
people, and the thing was done. The scenes of 1789 stimulated
Jefferson's natural tendency beyond the bounds of common sense. He
asserted that Indians without a government were better off than
Europeans with one, and that half the world a desert with only an Adam
and Eve left in each country to repopulate it would be an improvement in
the condition of Europe. He became a bigot of liberalism. Luckily he
had his American blood and practical education to restrain him, or he
might have been as foolish as Brissot and as rabid as Marat. As it was,
he could not help perceiving in his calmer moments that this new path to
the glorious future which the _philosophes_ were pointing out to their
countrymen, had been for many years in America the well-worn high road
of the nation.
On most subjects, Jefferson's opinions were dictated by his feelings. He
takes so little pains to conceal this weakness, that we can hardly
suppose he was aware of it. Contradiction he could not bear. Opposition
of any kind produced a bitter feeling. Vanity, latent perhaps, but
acrid, corroded his judgment of his adversaries. In France Governeur
Morris remarked that he was too fond of calling fools those who did not
agree with him; a sure sign of want of strength. Great minds are
essentially tolerant of the opinions of others. They know how easy it is
to err. There was a good deal, too, of the Pharisee about Jefferson. 'He
was of no party, nor yet a trimmer between parties. If he could not go
to heaven but with a party, he would not go there at all.' But he
thanked God he was not as the Federalists were: Anglomen, monarchists,
workers of corruption! nor even as this Washington! He boasted, too,
that he had never written a line for the public press; his method was to
suggest his views to others, and employ them to put them into print.
Careful not to speak out too boldly when it was not altogether safe to
do so, and wanting rather in moral courage, he was a persevering man,
pursuing his plans with the eagerness of women, who always have a
thousand excellent reasons, however illogical and inconsistent they may
be, for doing as they please--and like women, he was not over scrupulous
as to the means he employed to reach his object.
The same envious vanity and inability to resist his feelings which
warped his judgment into so many contradictions, led him into actions
that have damaged his character as a gentleman. For instance, his
behavior to Washington. When a member of Washington's cabinet,
protesting the warmest friendship to him, his confidential adviser by
virtue of the office he held, he permitted, not to say encouraged, those
attacks in Freneau's paper which were outrages on common decency. His
intimacy with the President enabled him to judge of the effect of the
blows. He noticed, with the cool precision of an experimental observer,
the symptoms of pain and annoyance which Washington could not always
conceal. Freneau was Jefferson's clerk; a word would have stopped him.
'But I will not do it,' Jefferson says; 'his paper has saved our
Constitution, which was galloping forth into monarchy.' Jefferson's
underhand attack upon Vice-President Adams, in the note he wrote by way
of preface to the American publisher of Paine's 'Rights of Man,' is a
domestic treachery of the same kind, though very much less in degree.
That note might have been written on the impulse of the moment; but what
shall we say of his practice of committing to paper Hamilton's sayings
in the freedom of after-dinner conversation--a time when open-hearted
men are apt to forget that there may be a Judas at table--and of saving
them up to be used against him in the future? Jefferson explains away
these and other dubious passages in his life with great ingenuity. He
had to make such explanations too often. An apology implies a mistake,
wilful or accidental. Too many indicate, to say the least, a lack of
discretion. What a difference between these explanations, evasions,
excuses, denials, and the majestic manliness of Washington, who never
did or wrote or said anything which he hesitated to avow openly and
without qualification!
Another dissimilarity between these two worth heeding, is Jefferson's
want of that thrift which produces independence, comfort, and
self-respect. He lived beyond his means, and died literally a beggar.
Jefferson was deficient in that happy combination of courage, energy,
judgment, and probity, which mankind call character, for want of a more
distinctive word--but which, in fact, in its highest expression, is
genius on the moral side. It commands the respect of mankind more than
the most brilliant faculties--and it accomplishes more. We have only to
look at Washington's life to see what can be done by it.
When Governor of Virginia during the Revolutionary War, Jefferson showed
a want of spirit and of action; the same deficiency was more painfully
conspicuous in his dealings with the Barbary pirates and in the affair
of the Leopard and Chesapeake. The insults and spoliations of the
English and French under the orders in council and the Berlin and Milan
decrees were borne with equal meekness. He was for peace at all hazards,
and economy at any price. When at last he found he had exhausted his
favorite method, and that neither 'time, reason, justice, nor a truer
sense of their own interests' produced any effect upon the obstinate
aggressors, he could desire no better means of checking their
depredations upon our trade than to order our merchants to lay up their
ships and shut up their shops. It was a Japanese stroke of policy--to
revenge an insult by disembowelling oneself--hari kari applied to a
nation.
His was indeed a brilliant theory of government, if we take him at his
word. At home, freedom was to be invigorated by occasional rebellions,
not to be put down too sharply, for fear of discouraging the people--the
tree of liberty was to be watered with blood. Abroad, custom-house
regulations would keep the peace of the seas. Embargo and
non-intercourse must bring France and England to their good behavior.
Mr. Jefferson had his political panacea: all disorders would infallibly
be cured by it. He puffed it in his journals and extolled its virtues in
his state papers. He congratulated his countrymen upon his election; he
called it the revolution of 1800. Now at length they could try the
panacea. What wonders did it work? The Federalists can point to the
results of their twelve years of power: credit created out of
bankruptcy; prosperity out of union; a great nation made out of thirteen
small ones--an achievement far beyond that Themistocles could boast of.
Jefferson added the Louisiana Territory to the Union; but this, the only
solid result of his Administration, was totally inconsistent with his
principles. Did he render any other service to the country? We know of
none. His 'Quaker' theories and 'terrapin' policy increased the contempt
of our enemies, cost the nation millions of money to no purpose, and
made the war of 1812 inevitable.
No one can deny that Jefferson was a monster of party tactics and
strategy. He knew well how to get up a cry, to excite the _odium
vulgare_ against his antagonists, to play skilfully upon the class
feeling of poor against rich, and to turn to profit every popular
weakness and meanness. He drilled and organized his followers, and led
them well disciplined to victory. But on the grander field of
statesmanship he was wanting. He was what Bonaparte called an
ideologist. A principle, however true, may fail in its application,
because other principles, equally true, may then come into action and
vitiate the result. These collateral principles Jefferson never deigned
to consider. He had no conception of expediency, of which a wise
statesman never loses sight. Results he thought must be advantageous,
provided processes were according to his principles. His object appears
to have been rather a government after his theories than a good
government. And in this respect he is the type of the impracticable and
mischief-making class of reformers numerous in this country.
Jefferson seems to have been unable to grasp the real political
character of the American people, the path they were destined to tread,
the shape their institutions must necessarily take. He was possessed
with the idea that liberty was in danger, and that the attempt was made
to change the republic into a monarchy, perhaps a despotism. This
delirious fancy beset him by day and was a terror by night. He was
haunted by the likeness of a kingly crown. Hamilton and Adams were
writing and planning to place it upon somebody's head. Federalist
senators, congressmen, Revolutionary soldiers, were transformed into
monarchists and Anglomen. Grave judges appeared to his distempered
vision in the guise of court lawyers and would-be ambassadors. The
Cincinnati lowered over the Constitution eternally. The Supreme Court of
the United States was the stronghold in which the principle of
tyrannical power, elsewhere only militant, was triumphant. Hamilton's
funding system was a scheme to corrupt the country. Even the stately
form of Washington rose before him in the shape of Samson shorn by the
harlot England. Strange as it may seem, Jefferson persisted in his
delusion to the end. A man in his position ought to have seen that in
spite of the old connection with the British crown, the States were and
always had been essentially republican in feelings, manners, and forms.
Nowhere in the world had local self-government been carried to such
extent and perfection. To build up a monarchy out of the thirteen
colonies was impracticable. Washington, more clear sighted, said that
any government but a republic was impossible: there were not ten men in
the United States whose opinions were worth attention who entertained
the thought of a monarchy. In his judgment the danger lay in the other
direction. The weakness of the Government, not its strength, might lead
to despotism through license and anarchy. He desired to keep the rising
tide of democracy within bounds by every legitimate barrier that could
be erected, lest it should overflow the country and sweep away all
government. Jefferson was for throwing open the floodgates to admit it.
He thought himself justified in combating the monarchists of his
hallucinations by every means, however illegal and unconstitutional.
Washington warned him and his followers that they were 'systematically
pursuing measures which must eventually dissolve the Union or produce
coercion.' Jefferson, deaf to the admonition, pressed on, and, like
Diomede at the siege of Troy, wounded a divinity when he thought he was
contending only with fellow men. With his Kentucky Resolutions he gave
the first stab to the Union and the Constitution. What were Burr's
childish schemes, which would have fallen to the ground from their own
weakness, compared with that? From Jefferson through Calhoun to
Jefferson Davis the diabolic succession of conspirators is complete.
THE ENGLISH PRESS.
II.
It has become the fashion to sneer at the Long Parliament: but for all
this it cannot be denied that that assemblage rendered services of
incalculable importance to the state. Extreme old age forms at all times
an object of pity, and, with the thoughtless and inconsiderate, it is
but too often an object of ridicule and contempt. Many a great man has,
ere now, survived to reach this sad stage in his career; but it does not
therefore follow that the glorious deeds of his prime are to be ignored
or forgotten. As it has been with the distinguished warrior or statesman
or author, so it is with the Long Parliament. England owes it a great
debt of gratitude on many accounts, but the one with which we have more
especially to do on the present occasion is, that with it originated the
custom of making public proceedings in Parliament. By this act was the
supremacy of the people over the Parliament acknowledged, for the very
publication of its transactions was an appeal to the people for approval
and support. This printed record of parliamentary affairs came out in
1641, and was entitled _The Diurnal Occurrences, or Daily Proceedings of
both Houses in this great and happy Parliament, from the 3d of November,
1640, to the 3d of November, 1641._ The speeches delivered from the
first date down to the following June were also published in two
volumes, and in 1642 weekly instalments appeared under various titles,
such as _The Heads of all the Proceedings of both Houses of
Parliament--Account of Proceedings of both Houses of Parliament--A
perfect Diurnal of the Passages in Parliament_, etc., etc. There was no
reporter's gallery in those days, and the Parliament only printed _what
they pleased_; still this was a step in the right direction. After
Parliaments occasionally evinced bitter hostility toward the press, but
that which boasted Sawyer Lenthal for its speaker was its friend (at all
events, at first, though afterward, as we shall notice by and by, it
displayed some animosity against its early _protegé_), and from this
meagre beginning took its rise that which is beyond doubt one of the
most important domestic functions of the press at the present day.
The abolition of the great bugbear and tyrant of printers--that infamous
mockery of a legal tribunal, the Star Chamber--was another gigantic
obstacle cleared away from the path of journalism. The _Newes Bookes_,
which, in spite of all difficulties, had already become abundant, now
issued forth in swarms. They treated _de rebus omnibus et quibusdam
aliis_. Most of them were political or polemical pamphlets, and boasted
extraordinary titles. There is a splendid collection of these in the
British Museum, collected by the Rev. W. Thomason, and presented to the
nation by King George III. We will mention a few of them. A
controversial religious tract rejoices in the title of _A fresh bit of
Mutton for those fleshy-minded Cannibals that cannot endure Pottage._ A
political skit upon Prince Rupert is styled _An exact Description of
Prince Rupert's malignant She-Monkey, a great Delinquent_, and has a
comical woodcut upon the title page of the animal, in a cap and
petticoat and with a sword by its side. This pamphlet is printed partly
in ordinary modern type and partly in black letter. Another pamphlet in
the form of dialogue is directed against the abuses of the laws,
especially at one of the infamous 'comptoirs' of the time. It is called
_Wonderfull Strange Newes from Wood Street Countor--yet not so Strange
as True, being proved by lamentable Experience, the relation of which_
'Will make you laugh, 'twill make you cry;
'Twill make you mad, 'twill make you try.'
Another is _Newes, true Newes, laudable Newes, Citie Newes, Countrie
Newes, the World is Mad or it is a Mad World, my Masters, especially in
the Antipodes, these Things are come to passe_. This is a satirical
description of manners and customs on 'the other side of the world,' the
writer asserting that in those regions everything is the exact opposite
of what takes place among us, so that there beggars ride in carriages
and are highly esteemed, men of title are of no account, lawyers take no
fees, and bailiffs decline to arrest debtors, etc., etc. There is also a
very quaint woodcut of the world and the heavens, the four winds, etc.,
with an astrologer and other persons looking at them. Very many of these
pamphlets are actual relations of occurrences in different parts of the
kingdom and in foreign countries. Thus we find, _Victorious Newes from
Waterford_; _The joyfullest Newes from Hull that ever came to London of
the Proceedings of the Earl of Warwick's Shipps_; _The best and happiest
Newes from Ireland, from the Army before Kildare_; _Newes from
Blackheath concerning the Meeting of the Kentish Men_; _Exceedingly
joyfull Newes from Holland_; _The best Newes that ever was Printed_,
consists of, 1. _Prince Rupert's Resolution to bee gone to his Mother,
who hath sent for him_; 2. _His Majestie's royall Intentions declared to
joyne with the Parliament in a treaty of Peace_; 3. _The Particulars of
the High Court of Parliament drawn up to be sent to his Majesty for
Peace_; 4. _Directions from the Lords and Commons directed to the
Commanders for the ordering of the Army._ One _quaint_ title presents a
very odd association: _Newes from Hell and Rome and the Innes of Court_.
The contending parties appear to have suited their titles to the
substance of the _Newes_ they chronicled accordingly as it affected
their interests. Thus, while many pamphlets bore the titles of
_Glorious_, _Joyful_, _Victorious_, etc., others were dubbed _Horrible
Newes_, _Terrible News_, and so forth. By far the greater number of
these were issued by the partisans of the Parliament; but the Royalists
were by no means idle, and the king carried about a travelling printing
press, as is evidenced by several proclamations, manifestoes, etc.,
issued at Oxford, Worcester, York, and other places, sometimes in
ordinary type, sometimes in black letter, by 'Robert Barker, his
Majestie's Printer.' All the emanations of the press were not, however,
mere isolated pamphlets, but there was a large crop of periodicals, such
as _The Kingdom's Weekly Intelligencer_--_The Royal Diurnall_, etc.
About this time the name _Mercurius_ began to be very freely adopted for
these periodicals. It had been already, for a long time, assumed as a
_nom de plume_ by writers and printers, but the title was now
assigned to the publications themselves. One of the earliest of
these was _Mercurius Aulicus_, a scurrilous print in the interest
of the court party--as its name imports--which first appeared in 1642.
Others were entitled respectively _Mercurius Britannicus_--_Mercurius
Anti-Britannicus_--_Mercurius Fumigosus, a Smoaking Nocturnal_--_Mercurius
Pragmaticus_--_Mercurius Anti-Pragmaticus_--_Mercurius Mercuriorum
Stultissimus_--_Mercurius Insanus Insanissimus_--_Mercurius
Diabolicus_--_Mercurius Mastix, faithfully lashing all Scouts, Mercuries,
Posts, Spyes, and others_--_Mercurius Radamanthus, the Chief Judge of Hell,
his Circuits through all the Courts of Law in England_, etc., etc. Other
newspapers bore such quaint titles as the following: _The Dutch Spye_--_The
Scots Dove_--_The Parliament Kite_--_The Secret Owle_--_The Parliament
Screech Owle_, and other ornithological monstrosities. Party spirit ran
high, and the contending scribes carried on a most foul and savage warfare,
and demolished their adversaries, both political and literary, without
the slightest compunction or mercy. Some of these brochures were solely
directed against the utterances of one particular rival scribe, as is
shown by one or two of the titles above quoted. Doctor Johnson says:
'When any title grew popular, it was stolen by the antagonist, who
by this stratagem conveyed his notions to those who would not have
received him had he not worn the appearance of a friend.'
According to Mr. Nichols' the printer's list, there were no less than
three hundred and fifty of these _Mercuries_ and _Newes Bookes_
published between 1642 and 1665, a list that would no doubt be largely
swollen could the titles of all that have perished and left no trace
behind be ascertained. These _Mercuries_ appeared at different
intervals, but none oftener than three times a week, and their price was
generally one penny, but sometimes twopence.
Many of the writers were nothing but venal hirelings, and changed sides
readily enough when their own private interests seemed to render it
desirable. One of the most famous--or infamous, according to Anthony à
Wood, who describes him as 'a most seditious, mutable, and railing
writer, siding with the rout and scum of the people, making them weekly
sport by railing at all that was noble,' etc.--was Marchmont Nedham. In
1643 he brought out the _Mercurius Britannicus_, one of the ablest
periodicals on the Parliamentary side, whatever honest old Anthony may
say to the contrary. But, being imprisoned for libel, he thought it best
to change his politics, and for two years appeared as an ultra-virulent
Royalist partisan in the _Mercurius Pragmaticus_. After the execution of
Charles the First, however, he returned to his old party, and advocated
their cause in the _Mercurius Politicus_, which purported to be
published 'in defence of the commonwealth and for information of the
people.' After some years he fell into temporary disgrace, but was soon
received again into favor by the House of Commons, which passed a vote
in August, 1659, 'that Marchmont Nedham, gentleman, be and hereby is
restored to be writer of the _Publick Intelligence_ as formerly.' At the
Restoration he was discharged from his office, but contrived to make his
peace with the party in power, and, true to his instincts, changed his
political creed once more for that of the winning side, but without
succeeding in being reinstated in his old post. The other most
noteworthy writers of _Mercuries_ were John Birkenhead, author of the
_Mercurius Aulicus_, Peter Heylin, Bruno Ryves--all parsons--and John
Taylor, the Water Poet, author of the _Mercurius Aquaticus_.
Nothing was too great or too small for the writers of these _Mercuries_,
nothing too exalted or too mean. Nothing was sacred in their eyes; the
most private affairs were dragged into the political arena, and family
and domestic matters, that had nothing whatever to do with public life,
were paraded before the world. Bitter personalities and invective seem
to be inseparable concomitants of the early stage of journalism in all
countries. This was the case in France and Germany; it is the case in
Russia at the present day. That it was the case in America, let the
following extract from Franklin's private correspondence testify:
'The inconsistency that strikes me the most is that between the
name of your city, Philadelphia, and the spirit of rancor, malice,
and hatred that breathes in the newspapers. For I learn from those
papers that State is divided into parties, that each party ascribes
all the public operations of the other to vicious motives, that
they do not even suspect one another of the smallest degree of
honesty, that the anti-Federalists are such merely from the fear of
losing power, places, or emoluments, which they have in possession
or expectation; that the Federalists are a set of conspirators, who
aim at establishing a tyranny over the persons and property of
their countrymen and who live in splendor on the plunder of the
people. I learn, too, that your justices of the peace, though
chosen by their neighbors, make a villanous trade of their offices,
and promote discord to augment fees, and fleece their electors; and
that this would not be mended were the choice in the Executive
Council, who, with interested or party aims, are continually making
as improper appointments, witness a 'petty fiddler, sycophant, and
scoundrel' appointed judge of the admiralty, an 'old woman and
fomentor of sedition' to be another of the judges, and 'a Jeffreys'
chief justice, etc., etc., with 'harpies,' the comptroller and
naval officers, to prey upon the merchants, and deprive them of
their property by force of arms, etc. I am informed, also, by these
papers, that your General Assembly, though the annual choice of the
people, shows no regard to their rights, but from sinister views or
ignorance makes laws in direct violation of the Constitution, to
divest the inhabitants of their property, and give it to strangers
and intruders, and that the Council, either fearing the resentment
of their constituents or plotting to enslave them, had projected to
disarm them, and given orders for that purpose; and, finally, that
your President, the unanimous joint choice of the Council and
Assembly, is 'an old rogue, who gave his assent to the Federal
Constitution merely to avoid refunding money he had purloined from
the United States.' There is, indeed, a good deal of man's
inconsistency in all this, and yet a stranger, seeing it in our own
prints, though he does not believe it all, may probably believe
enough of it to conclude that Pennsylvania is peopled by a set of
the most unprincipled, wicked, rascally, and quarrelsome scoundrels
upon the face of the globe. I have sometimes, indeed, suspected
that those papers are the manufacture of foreigners among you, who
write with the view of disgracing your country, and making you
appear contemptible and detestable all the world over; but then I
wonder at the indiscretion of your printers in publishing such
writings. There is, however, one of your inconsistencies that
consoles me a little, which is that though, living, you give one
another the character of devils, dead, you are all angels. It is
delightful, when any of you die, to read what good husbands, good
fathers, good friends, good citizens, and good Christians you were,
concluding with a scrap of poetry that places you with certainty in
heaven. So that I think Pennsylvania a good country to die in,
though a very bad one to live in.'
These remarks, which Franklin makes with such powerful irony, might
apply with equal force to a similar period in the newspaper history of
any country, and most of all to that of England.
The worst features, perhaps, of these writers of _Mercuries_, were the
readiness with which they apostatized, and the systematic and unblushing
manner in which they sold their pens to the highest bidder, and
prostituted the press to serve the purposes of their patrons. Mrs.
Hutchinson, in the memoirs of her husband, Colonel Hutchinson, gives a
curious instance of their venality:
'Sir John Gell, of Derbyshire, kept the diurnall makers in pension,
soe that whatever was done in the neighboring counties against the
enemy, was attributed to him, and thus he hath indirectly purchased
himself a name in story which he never merited. That which made his
courage the more questioned was the care he tooke and the expense
he was att to get it weekly mentioned in the diurnalls, so that
when they had nothing else to renoune him for, they once put it
that the troops of that valiant commander Sir John Gell tooke a
dragoon with a plush doublet.... Mr. Hutchinson, on the other side,
that did well for virtue's sake, and not for the vaine glory of it,
never would give aniething to buy the flatteries of those
scribblers; and, when one of them once, while he was in towne, made
mention of something done at Nottingham, with falsehood, and had
given Gell the glory of an action in which he was not concerned,
Mr. Hutchinson rebuked him for it; whereupon the man begged his
pardon, and told him he would write as much for him the next weeke;
but Mr. Hutchinson told him he scorned his mercenary pen, and
warned him not to dare to be in any of his concernments; whereupon
the fellow was awed, and he had no more abuse of that kind.'
The _Mercuries_, however, were not allowed to have everything their own
way without any interference on the part of the powers that were. In
1647, Sir Thomas Fairfax called the attention of the House of Lords, by
letter, to the great number of unlicensed newspapers, with a view to
their suppression; but he adds, in mitigation of his attack:
'That the kingdom's expectation may be satisfied in relation to
intelligence till a firm peace be settled, considering the
mischiefs that will happen by the poisonous writings of evil men
sent abroad daily to abuse and deceive the people, that if the
House shall see it fit, some two or three sheets may be permitted
to come forth weekly, which may be licensed, and have some stamp of
authoritie with them, and in respect of the former licenser, Mr.
Mabbot, hath approved himself faithful in that service of
licensing, and likewise in the service of the House and of this
army, I humbly desire that he may be restored and continued in the
same place of licenser.'
The result of this letter--which is remarkable, by the way, for its
mention of the licenser--was that the House of Lords issued an edict to
forbid any such publications except with the license of one or both
Houses of Parliament, and with the name of the author, printer, and
licenser attached. The penalties for any evasion of this enactment were,
for the writer, a fine of forty shillings or imprisonment for forty
days; for the printer, half that punishment, and the destruction of his
press and plant as well, and for the vendor a sound whipping and the
confiscation of his wares. A second instance of parliamentary
interference took place in the same year, when a committee was appointed
for the purpose of discovering and punishing every one connected with
the publication of certain _Mercuries_. The licensing system continued
in force, but was not made much use of, although the scurrilities of the
press roused the Parliament every now and then into spasmodic efforts of
repression. In addition to measures of this kind, Nedham's paper, from
its official character, was doubtless looked upon by the legislature as
a sort of antidote to the poison diffused by other journalists. This
came out twice a week, on Mondays under the name of _The Public
Intelligencer_, and on Thursdays under that of _Mercurius Politicus_.
When Nedham fell into disgrace at the Restoration, his paper was placed
by Parliament in other hands, and the Monday title changed to that of
_The Parliamentary Intelligencer_, though that of the Thursday's issue
remained unaltered. The powers of the licenser were now much more
strictly exercised, and the _Mercuries_ gave up the ghost in shoals. In
1662 an act was passed 'for preventing the frequent abuses in printing
seditious, treasonable, and unlicensed books and pamphlets, and for
regulating of printing and printing presses.' It also divided the duties
of the licenser, and the supervision of newspapers passed into the hands
of the Secretary of State. Ireland was not slow to follow England's
example, for, in Lord Mountmorris's 'History of the Irish Parliament,'
mention is made in 1662 'of a very extraordinary question' which 'arose
about preventing the publication of the debates of the Irish Parliament
in an English newspaper called _The Intelligencer_, and a letter was
written from the Speaker to Sir Edward Nicholas, the English Secretary
of State, to prevent these publications in those diurnalls, as they call
them.' In 1661, _The Parliamentary Intelligencer_ was turned into _The
Kingdom's Intelligencer_, and this last appellation was again changed
for that of _The Public Intelligencer_ in 1663. The celebrated Roger
L'Estrange, who was then the public licenser, was the editor of this
paper, as also of an extra Thursday issue called _The News_. In the
first number of this old friend with a new face, he says, among other
pros and cons as to the desirability of a newspaper:
'Supposing the press in order, the people in their right wits, and
news or no news to be the question, a public _Mercury_ should never
have my vote, because I think it makes the multitude too familiar
with the actions and counsels of their superiors, too pragmatical
and censorious, and gives them not only an itch, but a kind of
colorable right and license.... A gazette is none of the worst ways
of address to the genius and humor of the common people, whose
affections are much more capable of being turned and wrought upon
by convenient hints and touches in the shape and air of a pamphlet
than by the strongest reason and best notions imaginable under any
other and more sober form whatsoever.... So that upon the main I
perceive the thing requisite (for aught I can see yet). Once a week
may do the business, for I intend to utter my news by weight, not
by measure. Yet if I shall find, when my hand is in, and after the
planting and securing of my correspondents, that the matter will
fairly furnish more, without either uncertainty, repetition, or
impertinence, I shall keep myself free to double at pleasure. One
book a week may be expected, however, to be published every
Thursday, and finished upon the Tuesday night, leaving Wednesday
entire for the printing of it.'
The Newspaper was evidently developing itself--correspondents were a new
feature--but still it was very tardy and very far from being free. Fancy
a newspaper in the present day with no news more recent than that of the
day before yesterday! In 1663 the title of _Public Intelligencer_ was
exchanged for that of _The Oxford Gazette_, so called because the court
had gone to Oxford on account of the plague. After the court's return to
the metropolis, _London_ was substituted, in 1666, for _Oxford_, and
from that date to the present this, the first official or semi-official
organ, has gone by the name of _The London Gazette_. The king caused an
edition of it to be published in French, for the convenience, probably,
of his accommodating banker, Louis the Fourteenth, and this edition
continued to appear for about twenty years.
Charles the Second was an unsparing and unscrupulous foe to the press,
and put in practice every possible form of oppression in order to crush
it. One's blood boils at the perusal of the persecutions to which the
struggling apostles of freedom of speech were subjected, so that the
contempt which this miserable 'king of shreds and patches' inspires in
other respects wellnigh changes into positive hatred. But despite of
fine and imprisonment, scourge and pillory, the press toiled on steadily
toward its glorious goal. The Newspaper began to assume--as far as its
contents were concerned--the appearance which it wears at the present
day. Straggling advertisements had long ago appeared, the first on
record being one offering a reward for the recovery of two horses that
had been stolen. This appeared in the first number of the _Impartial
Intelligencer_, in 1648. Booksellers and the proprietors of quack
medicines were among the earliest persons to discover the advantages of
advertising, and in 1657 came out the _Public Advertiser_, which
consisted almost entirely of advertisements. The following curious
notification appeared in the _Mercurius Politicus_, of September 30,
1658:
'That excellent and by all Physicians approved _China_ Drink,
called by the _Chineans, Tcha_, by other Nations _Tay_, alias
_Tee_, is sold at the _Sultaness' Head Cophee House_, in
_Sweeting's_ Rents, by the Royal Exchange, _London_.'
The earliest illustrated paper is _Mercurius Civicus, London's
Intelligencer_, in 1643. The first commercial newspaper was a venture of
L'Estrange's in 1675, and was styled _The City Mercury, or
Advertisements concerning Trade_. The first literary paper issued from
the press in 1680, under the denomination of _Mercurius Librarius, or a
Faithful Account of all Books and Pamphlets_. The first sporting paper
was _The Jockey's Intelligencer, or Weekly Advertisements of Horses and
Second-hand Coaches to be Bought or Sold_, in 1683. The first medical
paper, _Observations on the Weekly Bill, from July 27 to August 3, with
Directions how to avoid the Dis eases now prevalent_, came out in 1686;
and the first comic newspaper, _The Merrie Mercury_, in 1700.
Notwithstanding these 'first appearances on any stage,' there never was
a darker or more dismal period in the history of journalism. A great
number of newspapers had sprung up in consequence of the Popish Plot,
and the exclusion of the Duke of York--the respectable admiralty clerk
of Macaulay--from the throne; and with the intention of sweeping these
away, a royal 'proclamation for suppressing the printing and publishing
unlicensed news books and pamphlets of news' was put forth in 1680.
Vigorous action against recalcitrants followed, and with such pliant
tools as those perjured wretches, Scroggs and Jeffreys, for judge and
prosecutor, convictions and the 'extremest punishment of the law' became
a foregone conclusion. Doubtless there were many vile scribblers who
deserved to have the severest penalties inflicted upon them, but no
discrimination was used, and good and bad alike experienced the
vengeance of 'divine right.' The aim of the abandoned monarch and his
advisers was manifestly total extermination, and journalism appeared to
be at its last gasp. But though crushed and mutilated in every limb, and
bleeding at every pore, faint respirations every now and then showed
that the vital spark still lingered. But brighter days were at hand.
That festering mass of mental and bodily corruption which had once worn
a crown, was buried away out of the sight of indignant humanity, and the
vacillating James with feeble steps mounted the tottering throne. The
licensing act had expired in 1679, and had not been again renewed, for
there were no newspapers to license. Upon the alarm of Monmouth's
invasion, James renewed it temporarily for seven years. Journalism
reared its head again, and the court party, instead of persecuting,
found itself compelled to fawn and flatter and sue for its protection
and support. Newspapers, both native and imported from Holland in large
numbers, played an important part in the Revolution, and paved the way
for the downfall of the Stuarts and the advent of William and the
Protestant Succession.
It must not be supposed that the capital had possessed a monopoly of
newspapers during all this period. Scotland appeared in the field with a
_Mercurius Politicus_, published at Leith in 1653. This, however, was
nothing but a reprint of a London news sheet, and probably owed its
existence to the presence of Cromwell's soldiers. In 1654 it removed to
Edinburgh, and in 1660 changed its denomination to _Mercurius Publicus_.
On the last day of this year, too, a journal of native growth budded
forth, with the title of _Mercurius Caledonius_. But the canny Scots
either could not or would not spare their bawbees for the encouragement
of such ephemeral literature, for Chalmers tells us that only ten
numbers of this publication appeared, and they were 'very loyal, very
illiterate, and very affected.' Dublin appears to have produced a
_Dublin News Letter_ in 1685, but little is known about it, and its very
existence has been disputed. There were other sheets with Scotch and
Irish titles, but they were all printed in London. With 1688 a new era
dawned upon the press--the most promising it had yet seen--and
newspapers gradually sprang up all over the kingdom.
The first that came out in the interests of the new Government were the
_Orange Intelligencer_ and the _Orange Gazette_. The opponents of the
ministry also started organs of their own, and the paper warfare went
gayly on, but with more decency and courtesy than heretofore. William
did not show himself disposed to hamper the press in any way, but
Parliament, in 1694, proved its hostility by an ordinance 'that no
news-letter writers do, in their letters or other papers that they
disperse, presume to intermeddle with the debates or other proceedings
of this House.' This was only a momentary ebullition of spleen. The
licensing act, which expired in 1692, had been renewed for one year,
but at the end of that period disappeared forever from English
legislation. The House of Lords--obstructive as usual to all real
progress--endeavored to revive it, but the Commons refused their
consent, and a second attempt in 1697 met with a like defeat. This
obstacle being happily got rid of, new journals of all kinds arose every
day. One was called _The Ladies' Mercury_; a second, _The London
Mercury_, _or_ _Mercure de Londres_, and was printed in parallel English
and French columns. A third was entitled _Mercurios Reformatus_, and
was, during a portion of its existence, edited by the famous Bishop
Burnet. Some were half written and half printed. One of these, the
_Flying Post_, in 1695, says in its prospectus:
'If any gentleman has a mind to oblige his country friend or
correspondent with this account of public affairs, he may have it
for twopence of J. Salisbury, at the Rising Sun, in Cornhill, on a
sheet of fine paper, half of which being blank, he may thereon
write his own private business, or the material news of the day.'
In 1696, Dawks's _News Letter_ appeared, printed in a sort of running
type, to imitate handwriting, with the following quaint announcement:
'This letter will be done upon good writing paper, and blank space
left, that any gentleman may write his own private business. It
does, undoubtedly, exceed the best of the written news, contains
double the quantity, with abundant more ease and pleasure, and will
be useful to improve the younger sort in writing a curious hand.'
Various authors, whose names will always find a lofty place in
literature, contributed to the newspapers of this epoch, and among them
we find those of South, Wesley, Sir William Temple, and Swift. The
advertisements by this time had become as varied as they are nowadays,
and were without doubt almost as important a part of the revenue of a
newspaper. An amusing proof of this is to be found in the _Collection
for the Improvement of Husbandry and Trade_, in which the editor
displays a lively interest in this department of his paper, by employing
the first person, thus: 'I want a cook maid for a merchant,' 'I want an
apprentice for a tallow chandler,' etc., etc. He also advertises that he
knows of several men and women who wish to find spouses, and he
undertakes match making in all honor and secrecy. He tells us that he
has a house for sale, and wishes to buy a shop, an estate, a complete
set of manuscript sermons, and a government situation. Other editors
bear witness to the character of their advertisers, and recommend
doctors, undertakers, waiting maids, footmen, and various tradesmen.
Some of the advertisements are very funny. 'I want a compleat young man
that will wear a livery, to wait on a very, valuable gentleman, but he
must know how to play on a violin or flute.' Was the 'very valuable
gentleman,' we wonder, troubled like Saul with an evil spirit, that
could be exorcised by music? Tastes certainly differ, for this
advertisement reminds us of a venerable old lady of our acquaintance,
who was kept in a chronic state of irritation by a favorite footman,
whom she did not choose to discharge, through his learning the flute and
persisting in practising 'Away with melancholy'--the only tune he
knew--for an hour daily! But to return to the advertisements. A
schoolmaster announces that he 'has had such success with boys, as there
are almost forty ministers and schoolmasters that were his scholars. His
wife also teaches girls lace making, plain work, raising paste, sauces,
and cookery to a degree of exactness'--departments of education which
are, unfortunately, too much lost sight of in modern 'Establishments for
Young Ladies,' 'His price is £10 to £11 the year; with a pair of sheets
and one spoon, to be returned if desired.'
During the whole reign of William there was not a single newspaper
prosecution, but there were many in that of 'the good Queen Anne.' Still
editors were obliged to be very careful in the wording of their items of
news, generally prefacing them with 'We hear,' 'It is said,' 'It is
reported,' 'They continue to say,' ''Tis believed,' and so on. Of the
chief newspapers of this period we get the following account from John
Dunton, who was joint proprietor with Samuel Wesley of the _Athenian
Mercury_:
'The _Observator_ is best to towel the Jacks, the _Review_ is best
to promote peace, the _Flying Post_ is best for the Scotch news,
the _Postboy_ is best for the English and Spanish news, the _Daily
Courant_ is the best critic, the _English Post_ is the best
collector, the _London Gazette_ has the best authority, and the
_Postman_ is the best for everything.'
The _Daily Courant_, which was the first daily newspaper, first appeared
on the 11th of March, 1702. It was but a puny affair of two columns,
printed on one side of the sheet only, and consisted, like most of the
journals of the time, mainly of foreign intelligence. It lasted until
1735, when it was merged in the _Daily Gazetteer_. In spite of
prosecutions for libel, the press throve, and, perhaps, to a certain
extent, on that very account greatly improved in character. Addison,
Steele, Bolingbroke, Manwaring, Prior, Swift, Defoe, and other
celebrities became editors or contributors, and a battle royal was waged
among them in the _Examiner_, the _Whig Examiner_, the _Observator_, the
_Postboy_, the _Review_, the _Medley_, and other papers of less note.
Meanwhile newspapers began to appear in the provinces. The earliest was
the _Stamford Mercury_--a title preserved to the present day--which came
out in 1695. Norwich started a journal of its own, the _Norwich
Postman_, in 1706, the price of which the proprietors stated to be 'one
penny, but a half penny not refused.' The _Worcester Postman_ made its
bow in 1708, and Berrow's _Worcester Journal_--which still exists--in
1709. Newcastle followed suite with its _Courant_, in 1711, and
Liverpool with its _Courant_ in 1712. The other large towns did the same
at less or greater intervals, and of the provincial journals which were
born in the first half of the eighteenth century about a score still
flourish. The _Edinburgh Gazette_ came cut in 1699, as appears from the
following quaint document, which has been republished by the Maitland
Club at the 'modern Athens':
'Anent the petition given to the Lords of his Majestie's Privy
Councill by James Donaldson, merchant in Edinburgh, shewing 'that
the petitioner doth humbly conceive the publishing ane gazette in
this place, containeing ane abridgement of fforaigne newes together
with the occurrences at home, may be both usefull and satisfieing
to the leidges, and actually hath published on or two to see how it
may be liked, and so farr as he could understand the project was
approven of by very many, and, therefore, humbly supplicating the
said Lords to the effect after mentioned;' the Lords of his
Majestie's Privy Councill, having considered this petition given in
to them by the above James Donaldsone, they doe hereby grant full
warrant and authority to the petitioner for publishing the above
gazette, and discharges any other persones whatsoever to pen or
publish the like under the penaltie of forfaulting all the coppies
to the petitioner, and farder payment to him of the soume of ane
hundred pounds Scots money, by and altour the forsaid confiscatioun
and forfaulture; and recommends to the Lord High Chancellor to
nominat and appoint a particular persone to be supervisor of the
said gazetts before they be exposed to public view, printed, or
sold.'
In 1705 a rival started up in the _Edinburgh Courant_, which was
published three times a week. About the same time appeared the _Scots
Courant_, in 1708 the _Edinburgh Flying Post_, and in the following year
the _Scots Postman_, the two last being tri-weekily. In 1718 there
dawned upon the literary horizon the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, which
still continues. It was published _cum privilegio_ on condition that the
proprietor 'should give ane coppie of his print to the magistrates.'
With regard to Ireland, it is a curious fact that Dublin took the lead
of London in establishing a daily paper, for _Pue's Occurrences_ first
issued in 1700, and survived for more than fifty years. But this effort
appears to have exhausted the newspaper energies of the sister isle, for
we have no record of any other journal during a quarter of a century.
Contemporary with its extension to the provinces, newspaper enterprise
was penetrating into the colonies, and America took the lead. Small were
the beginnings in the land where the freedom of the press was destined
to attain its fullest development. America's first journal--the _Boston
News Letter_--was printed at Boston in 1704, and survived to the limit
assigned by the Psalmist to the age of man. In 1719 appeared the _Boston
Gazette_, and in the same year the _American Weekly Miscellany_, at
Philadelphia. In 1721 appeared James Franklin's paper, the _New England
Courant_, and in 1728 the _New York Journal_. In 1733 John P. Tenzer
brought out the _New York Weekly Journal_, a paper which was so ably
conducted in opposition to the Government, that in the following year a
prosecution, or rather persecution, was determined upon. Andrew Hamilton
was Tenzer's counsel, and the temptation to quote a passage from the
peroration of his speech for the defence is irresistible:
'The question which is argued before you this day is not only the
cause of a poor printer, nor yet even of the colony of New York
alone: it is the best of causes--the cause of liberty. Every man
who prefers freedom to a life of slavery will bless and honor in
you the men whose verdict will have secured to us upon a firm
basis--to us, to our posterity, to our neighbors, that right which
both nature and the honor of our country gives us, the liberty of
freely speaking and writing the truth.'
What could the jury do, after these burning words, but acquit the
prisoner? They did acquit him, and from this famous trial dates,
according to Gouverneur Morris, the dawn of the American Revolution,
which myriads of Englishmen, whatever may be thought or said to the
contrary by persons who wish to raise bad blood between two mighty
countries, delight to acknowledge as glorious. But the progress of the
press in America was slow under British rule, for in 1775 there were
only thirty-six journals in the various States altogether. The West
India islands soon began to establish papers of their own, and Barbadoes
led the way in 1731 with the _Barbadoes Gazette_. Yet the development of
journalism in other British colonies belongs to a later period of
history.
To return to England. A heavy blow was impending over the fourth estate.
In 1712 a tax, in the shape of a half-penny stamp, was levied upon each
newspaper. The reason alleged for this measure was that political
pamphlets had so increased in number and virulence that the queen had
called the attention of Parliament to them, and had recommended it to
find a remedy equal to the mischief, and, in one of her messages, had
complained that 'by seditious papers and factious rumors, designing men
have been able to sink credit, and that the innocent have to suffer.' An
act was accordingly passed by which every printer was obliged to lodge
one copy of each number of his paper, within six days of its
publication, with a collector appointed for the purpose, and at the same
time to state the number of sheets, etc., under a penalty of £20 for
default. Country printers were allowed fourteen days instead of six.
This act, as may easily be imagined, spread confusion and dismay in all
directions. Half-penny and farthing newspapers fell at once before the
fierce onslaught of the red oppressor--a vegetable monstrosity, having
the rose, shamrock, and thistle growing on a single stalk, surmounted
by the royal crown. All the less important and second-rate journals
withered away before the deadly breath of the new edict, and a few only
of the best were enabled to continue by raising their price. Addison, in
the 445th number of the _Spectator_, July 31st, 1712, alludes to this
new tax as follows:
'This is the day on which many eminent authors will probably
publish their last words. I am afraid that few of our weekly
historians, who are men that, above all others, delight in war,
will be able to subsist under the weight of a stamp and an
approaching peace. A sheet of blank paper that must have this new
imprimatur clapped upon it before it is qualified to communicate
anything to the public, will make its way but very heavily.... A
facetious friend, who loves a pun, calls this present mortality
among authors 'the fall of the leaf.' I remember upon Mr. Baxter's
death there was published a sheet of very good sayings, inscribed:
'The last words of Mr. Baxter.' The title sold so great a number of
these papers, that, about a week after these, came out a second
sheet, inscribed: 'More last words of Mr. Baxter.' In the same
manner I have reason to think that several ingenious writers who
have taken their leave of the public in farewell papers, will not
give over so, but intend to appear, though perhaps under another
form, and with a different title.'
This prediction of Addison's was verified, for, after the first year,
the act was allowed to fall into abeyance, and the scribblers raised
their heads once more, and endeavored, by extra diligence and industry,
to make up for their past discomfiture and enforced silence.
Of the essay papers, as they are called, the _Tatler_ is the only one
which properly comes within the scope of this article, as being, to a
certain extent, a newspaper. Addison wrote in the _Freeholder_, and
Steele in the _Englishman_, both being political journals opposed to the
Government. For certain articles in this last, which were declared to be
libellous, and for a pamphlet, entitled _The Crisis_, which he published
about the same time, poor 'little Dicky, whose trade it was,' according
to his quondam friend Addison, 'to write pamphlets,' was expelled the
House of Commons, despite the support of several influential members,
and the famous declaration of Walpole, who was not then the unscrupulous
minister he afterward became, 'The liberty of the press is unrestrained;
how then shall a part of the legislature dare to punish that as a crime
which is not declared to be so by any law framed by the whole? And why
should that House be made the instrument of such a detestable purpose?'
The newspaper writers had now reached a great pitch of power, and had
become formidable to the Government. Prosecutions therefore multiplied;
but not without reason in many cases. Addison complains over and over
again of the misdirection of their influence, and says, among other
things:
'Their papers, filled with different party spirit, divide the
people into different sentiments, who generally consider rather the
principles than the truth of the news writers.'
At no time, probably, in the history of journalism did party feeling run
higher than at this period. New organs sprang up every day, but were,
for the most part, very short lived. Among the papers of most note were
_The Weekly Journal_, Mist's _Weekly Journal_, the _London Journal_,
_The Free Briton_, and the _Weekly Gazetteer_. Mist was especially a
stout opponent of the Government, and was consequently always in
trouble. In 1724 there were printed nineteen first-class journals, of
which three were daily, ten tri-weekly--three of them 'half-penny
_Posts_'--and six weekly. News was abundant, and the old plan of leaving
blank spaces or filling up with passages of Scripture--an editor
actually reproduced from week to week the first two books of the
Pentateuch--was now abandoned. In 1726 appeared the _Public
Advertiser_, afterward called the _London Daily Advertiser_, which
deserves to be remembered as having been the medium through which the
letters of Junius were originally given to the world. In the same year,
too, was started _The Craftsman_, one of the ablest political papers
which London had yet seen, and of which Bolingbroke was joint editor. It
was immediately successful, and its circulation soon reached ten or
twelve thousand. In 1731 a great novelty came out, the _Gentleman's
Magazine_, or _Monthly Intelligencer_, under the proprietorship of
Edward Cave, the printer. The title page contained a woodcut of St.
John's Gate, Clerkenwell, which had been in olden times the entrance
gateway to the hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, but was then the
abiding place of Cave's printing press, and upon either side of the
engraving was a list of the titles of metropolitan and provincial
newspapers. The contents, as announced on the same title page, were: 1.
Essays, controversial, humorous and satirical, religious, moral, and
political, collected chiefly from the public papers; 2. Select pieces of
poetry; 3. A succinct account of the most remarkable transactions and
events, foreign and domestic; 4. Marriages and deaths, promotions and
bankruptcies; 5. The prices of goods and stocks, and bills of mortality;
6. A register of barks; 7. Observations on gardening. The prospectus
states:
'Our present undertaking, in the first place, is to give monthly a
view of all the pieces of wit, humor, or intelligence daily offered
to the public in the newspapers, which of late are so multiplied as
to render it impossible, unless a man makes it his business, to
consult them all; and in the next place, we shall join therewith
some other matters of use or amusement that will be communicated to
us. Upon calculating the number of newspapers, 'tis found that
(besides divers written accounts) no less than two hundred half
sheets _per mensem_ are thrown from the press only in London, and
about as many printed elsewhere in the three kingdoms, a
considerable part of which constantly exhibit essays on various
subjects for entertainment, and all the rest occasionally oblige
their readers with matter of public concern, communicated to the
world by persons of capacity, through their means, so that they are
become the chief channels of amusement and intelligence. But then,
being only loose papers, uncertainly scattered about, it often
happens that many things deserving attention contained in them are
only seen by accident, and others not sufficiently published or
preserved for universal benefit or information.'
The _Magazine_ sets to work upon its self-imposed task by giving a
summary of the most important articles during the preceding month in the
principal London journals, of the ability, scope, and spirit of which we
thus obtain a very fair notion. The _Craftsman_ has the precedence, and
among articles quoted from it are a historical essay upon Queen Bess,
and 'her wisdom in maintaining her prerogative;' a violent political
article full of personalities, a complaint of the treatment of the
_Craftsman_ by rival journals, and an essay upon the liberty of the
press. The summary of the _London Journal_ seems to show that it was
continually occupied in controverting the views and arguments of the
_Craftsman_. _Fog's Journal_ is employed in making war upon the _London
Journal_ and the _Free Briton_. The following specimen does not say much
for Mr. Fog's satirical powers:
'One Caleb D'Anvers' (Nicholas Amherst, of the Craftsman), 'and, if
I mistake not, one Fog, are accused of seditiously asserting that a
crow is black; but the writers on the other side have, with
infinite wit, proved a black crow to be the whitest bird of all the
feathered tribe.'
These old newspapers give us curious glimpses of the manners of the
time. The _Grub-Street Journal_ has an article upon 'an operation
designed to be performed upon one Ray, a condemned malefactor, by Mr.
Cheselden, so as to discover whether or no not only the drum but even
the whole organ be of any use at all in hearing.' The writer must have
been an ardent vivisector, for he concludes by a suggestion that 'all
malefactors should be kept for experiments instead of being hanged.' In
another number this periodical indulges in a criticism upon the new ode
of the poet laureate (Colley Cibber), in the course of which the writer
expresses an opinion that 'when a song is good sense, it must be made
nonsense before it is made music; so when a song is nonsense, there is
no other way but by singing it to make it seem tolerable sense'--a
criticism which, whether it were true of that period or no, may be
fairly said to apply with great force to the times in which we live. The
_Weekly Register_ makes war upon the _Grub-Street Journal_, and, in a
satirical article upon the title of that newspaper, likens the writers
to caterpillars and grubs, etc., 'deriving their origin from Egyptian
locusts;' and, in another article, accuses them of 'having undertaken
the drudgery of invective under pretence of being champions of
politeness.' The other papers summarized are the _Free Briton_, a
violent opponent of the _Craftsman_, the _British Journal_, and the
_Universal Spectator_, the forte of the last two lying in essays and
criticisms.
But the grand feature of the _Gentleman's Magazine_ was, that it was the
first to systematize parliamentary reporting. This was originally
managed by Cave and two or three others obtaining admission to the
strangers' gallery, and taking notes furtively of the speeches. These
notes were afterward compared, and from them and memory the speeches
were reproduced in print. Cave's reports continued for two years
unmolested, when the House of Commons endeavored to put an end to them.
A debate took place, in which all the speakers were agreed except Sir
William Wyndham, who expressed a timid dissent, as follows: 'I don't
know but what the people have a right to know what their representatives
are doing.' 'I don't know,' forsooth--the Government and the people must
have been a long way off then from a proper appreciation of the duties
of the one and the rights of the other! Sir Robert Walpole, the former
friend of the press--who, by the way, is said to have spent more than
£50,000 in bribes to venal scribblers in the course of ten years--had
completely changed his views, and had nothing then to say in its favor.
A resolution was passed which declared it breach of privilege to print
any of the debates, and announced the intention of the House to punish
with the utmost severity any offenders. Cave, however, was not easily
daunted, and, instead of publishing the speeches with the first and last
letters of the names of the speakers, he adopted this expedient: he
anagrammatized the names, and published the debates in what purported to
be 'An Appendix to Captain Lemuel Gulliver's Account of the Famous
Empire of Lilliput, giving the Debates in the Senate of Great Lilliput.'
This system was continued for nine years, but, after an interval, Cave
reverted to the old plan. He had always employed some writer or other of
known ability to write the speeches from his notes, and generally even
without any notes at all, so that the speeches were often purely
imaginary. In 1740 Dr. Johnson was employed for this purpose, and he,
according to his own confession, had been but once inside the walls of
the Parliament. Murphy tells the story and gives the names of the
persons who were present when he made the avowal. It occurred thus: A
certain speech of Pitt's, which had appeared in the _Gentleman's
Magazine_, was being highly praised by the company, when Johnson
startled every one by saying: 'That speech I wrote in a garret in Exeter
street.' He then proceeded to give an account of the manner in which the
whole affair used to be managed--this happened many years after his
connection with the matter had ceased--and the assembly 'lavished
encomiums' upon him, especially for his impartiality, inasmuch as he
'dealt out reason and eloquence with an equal hand to both parties.'
Johnson replied: 'That is not quite true: I saved appearances tolerably
well, but I took care that the Whig dogs should not have the best of
it.' These speeches were long received by the world as verbatim reports,
and Voltaire is said to have exclaimed, on reading some of them: 'The
eloquence of Greece and Rome is revived in the British Senate.' Johnson,
finding they were so received, felt some prickings of conscience, and
discontinued their manufacture. When upon his deathbed, he said that
'the only part of his writings that gave him any compunction was his
account of the debates in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, but that at the
time he wrote them he did not think he was imposing upon the world.'
Several attempts had been made to checkmate Cave, and in 1747 he was
summoned before the House of Lords, reprimanded, and fined, but finally
discharged upon begging pardon of the House, and promising never to
offend again. However, in 1752, he resumed the publication of the
debates, with this prefatory statement, a statement which must be taken
_cum grano_:
'The following heads of speeches in the H---- of C---- were given
me by a gentleman, who is of opinion that members of Parliament are
accountable to their constituents for what they say as well as what
they do in their legislative capacity; that no honest man, who is
entrusted with the liberties and purses of the people, will ever be
unwilling to have his whole conduct laid before those who so
entrusted him, without disguise; that if every gentleman acted upon
this just, this honorable, this constitutional principle, the
electors themselves only would be to blame if they reflected a
person guilty of a breach of so important a trust.'
Cave continued his reports in a very condensed form until he died, in
1754, and left his system as a legacy to his successors and imitators.
He was the father of parliamentary reporting, and it is for this reason
more especially that his name deserves to be remembered with gratitude
by all well wishers to the freedom of the press, which is the liberty of
mankind.
THE TREASURY REPORT AND MR. SECRETARY CHASE.
The military condition at the present time is highly encouraging; but
our armies have not always been successful in the field, and many of our
campaigns have ended either in disaster or without decisive results. The
navy, though it has achieved much in some quarters, has not altogether
answered to the reasonable expectations of the country or to the vast
sums which have been expended to make it powerful and efficient. Our
foreign relations, during the war, have sometimes assumed a threatening
aspect, and, it must be confessed, have not always been managed with the
skill and firmness due to our prominent position among the nations of
the world. But there is at least one department of the Government whose
general operations during all these vicissitudes have been the subject
of just pride to the American people. In the midst of great
difficulties, sufficient to appal and disconcert any ordinary mind, our
stupendous fiscal affairs have been conducted with unrivalled firmness,
ability, and success. All our military and naval operations, and indeed
our whole national strength at home and abroad, have necessarily been in
a large degree contingent upon the public credit, and this has remained
solid and unmoved except to gain strength, in spite of all the
disasters of the war on the land and on the water. The recent annual
report of Mr. Chase, though chiefly confined to a simple statement of
facts and figures, is like the account of some great victorious
campaign, submitted by the unassuming officer who conducted it. The
achievements of the Treasury are in fact the greatest of all our
victories; they underlie and sustain the prowess of our armies, while
they signalize the confidence and the patriotism of our whole people.
Without them the peril of the Union would have been infinitely enhanced,
and perhaps it would have been wholly impossible to conquer the
rebellion. There was a narrow and difficult path to tread in order to
avoid national bankruptcy; it was necessary within three years to raise
fifteen hundred millions of dollars, and a single false step might have
doubled or trebled the amount even of that enormous demand. How often
has intelligent patriotism trembled to think that the failure of our
finances would involve the probable futility of our sacred war for the
Union, with all its tremendous sacrifices of life and property!
Nobly have the people sustained their Government; with a wise instinct
of confidence, they have freely risked their money, as their lives, in
support of their own holy cause. This confidence at home has given us
unbounded strength abroad. Nor do the facts in the least diminish the
credit fairly due to the Secretary, whose great merit is to have
organized a system so well calculated to attract the confidence of the
people and to inspire them with a sense of perfect security in trusting
their fortunes to the keeping of the nation for its help and support in
the hour of supreme peril. It is the highest evidence of wise
statesmanship to be able thus to arouse a nation to the cheerful
performance even of its obvious duty: this has been accomplished by Mr.
Chase, under the embarrassment of repeated failures on the part of those
who had in special charge to defend and promote our noble cause. The
entire merit of this grand success can only be adequately estimated by
considering how slight a mistake of judgment or want of faithful courage
in conducting these momentous affairs would have thrown our finances
into inextricable confusion. Our own experience immediately before the
war, when there was no adequate conception of the extent of the trouble
about to come upon us, shows how easily the public credit may be shaken
or destroyed by incompetent or dishonest agents. In spite of envious
detraction and interested opposition, these great and successful labors
of the Secretary will remain an imperishable monument of his ability to
conduct the most intricate affairs of government, in times of the most
appalling danger and difficulty. He has undergone the severest tests to
which a statesman was ever subjected; his genius and his great moral
firmness have brought him out triumphant.
There are a few prominent points in the lucid report of the Secretary
which constitute the great landmarks of his system. Adequate taxation
was of necessity its basis; and, from the very beginning, Mr. Chase
insisted upon a rigid resort to every available means of raising a
revenue sufficient to strengthen the hands of the Government, and
sustain its credit through all the vast operations which it was
compelled to undertake. And now by reference to the actual figures, and
by an analysis of the facts embodied in them, the Secretary shows that
since the first year of the war, the taxes collected have paid all the
ordinary peace expenditures together with the interest on the whole
public debt, and beyond this have yielded a surplus which, had the war
ended, might have been applied to the reduction of the debt. This sound
and indispensable principle, beset with so many temptations and
difficulties in time of civil commotion, is the very soul of the public
credit; and the fearlessness with which the Secretary meets the
contingency of prolonged war and the necessity of additional taxes,
evinces his determination to strengthen and sustain the principle,
rather than to abandon it under any possible circumstances. The enormous
loans already so advantageously obtained, to say nothing of those
additional ones which will probably be indispensable, could not have
been negotiated on any reasonable terms without a firm adherence to this
policy.
That part of Mr. Chase's financial system which is most questionable,
and which affords his assailants a fulcrum for their attacks, is its
interference with the State banks and with the currency which they have
been supplying to the country. The issuance of Treasury notes in the
form of a circulating medium, and with the qualities of a legal tender,
has revolutionized the whole currency and exchanges of the country, and
has given universal satisfaction to the people. But this popular
judgment is by no means an unerring test of the wisdom or safety of such
a measure. Its necessity, however, and its eminent success will forever
stamp it as an expedient of great usefulness and value, especially as
the Secretary has most judiciously arrested the system at that point
where its unquestionable advantages still outweigh its acknowledged
dangers and inconveniences. He informs us that these issues 'were wanted
to fill the vacuum caused by the disappearance of coin, and to supply
the additional demands created by the increased number and variety of
payments;' and he adds: 'Congress believed that four hundred millions
would suffice for these purposes, and therefore limited issues to that
sum. The Secretary proposes no change of this limitation and places no
reliance therefore on any increase of resources from increase of
circulation. Additional loans in this mode would indeed almost certainly
prove illusory; for diminished value could hardly fail to neutralize
increased amount.'
In consequence of these issues, the average rate of interest on the
whole public debt on the 1st of July last, was only 3.77 per centum, and
on the 1st of October, 3.95 per centum.
It was to be expected that the banks, which have heretofore had an
entire monopoly of the paper circulation, and of the large profits
derived from its legitimate use, as well as from its disastrous and
sometimes dishonest irregularities, would not very cordially receive the
system which is destined to supersede their present organization
entirely. The Secretary justly exults in the advantages of the sound and
uniform circulation which he has afforded in all parts of the country.
And as to the depreciation of the Treasury notes in comparison with
gold, he reasons, with great force and truth, that the greater part of
it is attributable to 'the large amount of bank notes yet in
circulation,' remarking at the same time, that 'were these notes
withdrawn from use, that much of the now very considerable difference
between coin and United States notes would disappear.' Whether this
belief of the Secretary be well founded or not, nothing can be more
certain than the superiority of the Treasury notes to those of the mass
of suspended banks, as they would have been after three years of the
present war. It is frightful to think of the condition to which the
currency would have been reduced at this time, if the Government had
been guilty of the folly of conducting its immense operations in the
suspended paper of irresponsible local banks. No one can doubt that the
Treasury notes have been of immense service to the nation in its hour of
trial; and if the limitation proposed by the Secretary shall be
faithfully maintained, there need not be the slightest fear of any
difficulty or discredit in the future. Upon the return of peace the
whole issue will be easily absorbed and redeemed, either by the process
of funding, or more gradually in the ordinary transactions of the
Government.
On a kindred subject, that of the high prices at present prevailing, let
Mr. Chase speak for himself. This statement is so direct and pertinent
that nothing could well be added. He says:
'It is an error to suppose that the increase of prices is
attributable wholly or in very large measure to this circulation.
Had it been possible to borrow coin enough, and fast enough, for
the disbursements of the war, almost if not altogether the same
effects on prices would have been wrought. Such disbursements made
in coin would have enriched fortunate contractors, stimulated
lavish expenditures, and so inflated prices in the same way and
nearly to the same extent as when made in notes. Prices, too, would
have risen from other causes. The withdrawal from mechanical and
agricultural occupations of hundreds of thousands of our best,
strongest, and most active workers, in obedience to their country's
summons to the field, would, under any system of currency, have
increased the price of labor, and, by consequence, the price of the
products of labor,' &c.
It is impossible to deny the force of this statement; and upon the whole
we must acknowledge that most of the evils which have been attributed to
the financial policy of the Government were inherent in the very nature
of the situation, and would have developed themselves, more or less,
under any system which could have been adopted. It is very obvious that
they might have been greatly aggravated by slight changes; but it is not
easy to see how they could have been more skilfully met and parried than
by the measures which have actually yielded such brilliant results.
The most signal triumph of Mr. Chase's whole system of finance is to be
found in the truly marvellous success of his favorite five-twenty bonds.
Even at the present time the public enthusiasm for these securities
seems to be unabated, and it is more than probable that the whole amount
authorized to be issued will be taken up quite as rapidly as the bonds
can be prepared or as the money may be required.
Not without good reason does the Secretary attribute the 'faith' thus
shown by the people 'in the securities of the Government,' to his
national banking law and the prospective establishment of a currency
'secured by a pledge of national bonds,' and destined at no distant day
to 'take the place of the heterogeneous corporate currency which has
hitherto filled the channels of circulation.' The idea of thus making
tributary to the Government in its present emergency the whole banking
capital of the country, or at least so much of it as may be employed in
furnishing a paper circulation for commercial transactions, was as bold
and magnificent as it has proved successful. Nothing less than the
national credit is sufficiently solid and enduring to be the basis of a
paper currency throughout the vast extent of our country. It is
eminently fit that this perfect solidarity of the central government
with those who furnish paper money for the people of every locality,
should be required and maintained on a proper basis. But the currency
thus provided is not liable to any of the objections properly urged
against a paper circulation issued by the Government itself; it is
issued by individuals or companies, and secured only by such national
stocks as have been created in the necessary operations of the nation
itself. The system does not constitute a national bank or banks in the
sense of that term as heretofore used in our history. It does nothing
more than assume that indispensable control over the long-neglected
currency of the country which is at once the privilege and the duty of
the National Government. It has authority to pronounce the supreme law
among all the States; and if there be any subject of legislation
requiring the unity to be derived from the exercise of such authority,
it is, above everything else, that common medium of exchange which
measures and regulates the countless daily commercial transactions of
our immense territory. The system involves no participation by the
Government in any banking operations; no partnership in any possible
speculations, great or small; no interference, direct or indirect, with
the legitimate business of the country: it is only a wise and efficient
device, by which the Government assures to the people the soundness of
the paper which may be imposed upon them for money.
The greatest merit of the scheme consists in the fact that it is
intended to supersede that irregular and unsatisfactory system of
banking which is based on a similar pledge of the credit of the several
States. It is said to be hostile to the existing banks; but it is only
so in so far as it requires a change of the basis of their credit from
State to National securities. The measure was not conceived in any
unfriendly spirit toward those institutions. It was necessary for the
National Government to assert its own superiority, and thus to
strengthen itself, at the same time that it sought to protect the people
by securing them a uniform currency and equable exchanges.
Some murmurs of opposition have been heard from a quarter well
understood; but the good sense of the people, and, we hope, of the
holders of State bonds themselves, seems to have quickly suppressed
these complaints. A war of the State banks on the Government, at this
time and on this ground, might well be deplored; but the issue would not
be doubtful. Mr. Chase occupies the vantage ground, and he would be
victorious over these, as the country is destined to be over all other
enemies.
At no other time could so fundamental a change in our system of currency
have been proposed with the slightest chance of success; and, upon the
whole, it was a grand and happy conception, in the midst of this
tremendous war, to make its gigantic fiscal necessities contribute to
the permanent uniformity of the currency and of the domestic exchanges.
For this great measure is no temporary expedient. Its success is bound
up with the stability of the Government; and if this endures, the good
effects of the new system will be felt and appreciated in future years,
long after the unhappy convulsion which gave it birth shall have passed
away. It will serve to smooth the path from horrid war to peace, and to
hasten the return of national prosperity; and when experience shall have
fully perfected its organization, it may well be expected, by the
generality of its operation and its great momentum, to act as the great
natural regulator of enterprise and business in our country.
If these grand achievements in finance have had so important an
influence in sustaining the war for the Union, it is not likely they
will fail to constitute a large element in controlling the political
events of the immediate future. Their author is well known to entertain
the soundest views in reference to the thoroughness of the measures
necessary to restore harmony in the Union, without being of that extreme
and impracticable school whose policy would render union uncertain or
impossible; and if a ripe experience in public affairs and the most
brilliant success in transactions of great delicacy and difficulty, as
well as of the most vital importance to the triumph of our arms, are of
any value, they cannot be without their due and proper weight in the
crisis which is fast approaching.
The election of next fall will take place under circumstances dangerous
to the stability of our institutions, and trying to the virtue and
wisdom of the American people. We are compelled to undergo that great
trial, either in the midst of a mighty civil war, or in the confusion
and uncertainty of its recent close, with the legacy of all its
tremendous difficulties to adjust and settle. Even in quiet times, the
Presidential election is an event of deep significance in our political
history; but at such times, the ordinary stream of affairs will flow on
quietly in spite of many obstructions; and even the errors and follies
of the people consequent on the intrigues of politicians and the strife
of parties, are not then likely to be fatal to the public security. In
the midst of the tempest, however, or even in the rough sea, where the
subsiding winds have left us crippled and exhausted, and far away from
our true course, we have need of all the skill, experience, integrity,
and wisdom which it is possible to call into the service of the country.
But it is the skill and experience of the statesman, not of the warrior,
which the occasion requires. To our great and successful generals, the
gratitude of the people will be unbounded; and it will be exhibited in
every noble form of expression and action becoming a just and generous
nation. But civil station is not the appropriate reward of military
services, except in rare cases, when capacity and fitness for its duties
have been fully established. To conduct a great campaign and to gain
important victories is evidence of great ability in achieving physical
results by the organized agency and force of armies; it does not
necessarily follow that the great general is an able statesman or a safe
counsellor in the cabinet or in the legislative assembly. The functions
to be performed in the two cases are wholly dissimilar, if not actually
opposite in nature. War is the reign of force, and is essentially
arbitrary in its decisions and violent in its mode of enforcing them:
civil government, on the other hand, is the embodiment of law, and it
ought to be the perfection of reason; its instrumentalities are
eminently peaceful and antagonistic to all violence.
In times like the present, there is always a tendency to appropriate the
popularity of some great and patriotic soldier, and make it available
for the promotion of personal or party ends. Success in that sinister
policy will no doubt often prove to be only an aggravation of ordinary
party strategy, by which the vital questions of capacity and fitness are
made subordinate to that of availability. We have in our history too
many instances of such intrigues and their dangerous consequences, to
admit of their success at the present time, though they come in the
seductive form of military glory. The degenerate system of party
strategy culminated seven years ago in the election of James Buchanan.
In pursuance of the secret and treacherous preparations for the present
infamous rebellion, the people were ignorantly and blindly led by
cunning intrigue into that fatal mistake; but it was not less the
circumstances of the tunes and the sinister combination of parties, than
the weakness and wickedness of the man chosen, which gave him the
immense power for mischief which he wielded against his country. The
complications of the approaching crisis will not be less controlling in
their power to bring about the ruin or the restoration of the republic.
In the uncertain contingencies and possible combinations of opinion and
interest destined to grow out of the immediate future, no man can
foresee what dangers and difficulties will arise. The only path of
safety lies in the straight line of consistent action; avoiding sinister
expedients and untried men; despising the arts of the demagogue, when
they present themselves in the most specious of all forms, that of using
military success as the pretext for ambitious designs; and doing justice
to the great soldier, _as a soldier_, according to the value of his
achievements, not forgetting that 'peace hath her victories not less
renowned than those of war,' and that the faithful and able statesman
cannot be overlooked and set aside amid the glare of arms, without
danger to the best interests of the republic.
ASPIRO.--A FABLE.
Then my life was like a dream in which we guess at God-thoughts. I was
so completely absorbed in my love that I marked the lapse of time only
by the delicate varyings of my mistress's beauty, or the deepening spell
of her royal rule. I was delirious with the delight of her presence,
which comprised to me all types of excellence. Within her eyes the
sapphire gates of heaven unclosed to me; in the splendor of lustred hair
was life-warmth.
--And had I forgot?--the red lips I crushed like rose-leaves on my
own--the tender eyes that plead 'remember me'--the faded rosemary which
we culled together--the vows with which I said that love like ours was
never false, nor parting fatal. Had I forgot? Could this _Aspiro_ of my
worship quite dispel my youth-dream--had her infatuating presence quite
eclipsed my memory of Christine?--
Alas! I had not meant to be inconstant, but while I strove sullenly for
success in uncongenial occupation, _she_ came to me--Aspiro--came like
the truth and light, and taught me to myself.
For a long time I doubted and resisted; though she tempted me, making
real the dreams of my shy, worshipful childhood, teaching me the
meanings of treasured stories which I had listened to from flower-sprite
and river-god, leading and wooing me with lovelier lures than even
Nature's; for tropical bird-song and falling water was harsh to her
voice, and dew-dripped lilies dim to her brow. But I shut my dazzled
eyes at first from these, and strove to see only the face whereon, with
tender kisses, I had sealed my future--having narrow aims; till the
vision faded despairingly, and even closed lids would not recall it, and
my weak resistance seemed but to strengthen the sway that bore me
willingly away.
Over and over I told the rosary of Aspiro's charms. Hour by hour I
wearied not of her perfections. With burning vows and rapturous words I
pledged my life to her.
Once when the wind was sweeping her gay garments, like hope-banners,
against my limbs, and tangling her long, loose hair about me--once when
I was blind with the jewel-dazzle from her breast, thrilled by the
passion-pressure of her hand, she said, in saddest, sweetest tones:
'I am erratic, Paulo, and exacting--will you tire of me!'
O Immortality! Did not that seem sacrilege!
Like curlew's wings flapped the white sails of the ship on the blue
waters. Aspiro's eyes absorbed my mind and memory. The past was
voiceless--the future clarion-toned. So we loosed our hold of the real
past, and drifted toward an ideal future.
We wandered through apocalyptic mazes, startling the hush of mystery
with daring footsteps. We brake the bread of the cosmic sacrament in
sight of the Inaccessible.
In the metallic mirrors of Arctic lakes we watched the wind-whipped
clouds. Mute we knelt in the ice-temples of Silence, and where the
glaciers shatter the rainbows we renewed our promises.
Wet sat at the universal banquet, and drank deep of Beauty. Cheek
pressed to cheek, arms interlaced, we sighed in the consecrated throes
of its reproduction, and in the imagery of Art we lisped Creation's
lessons.
From height to height and depth to depth. Lagging in low canoes along
the black waters of silent swamps--life-left--seeing the far-off blue of
sky and hope between the warning points of cypress spires. Across the
stretch of yellow sands, seeking her riddle of the Sphinx, and asking
from the Runic records of one dead faith, and the sand-buried temples of
another, the aim of the True.
Or clouds or rocks or winds or waves, the mutable or the unchangeable
was in turn the theme of our reproductive praise. There were
transfigurations on the mountain tops, where the spirit of the universe
wore shining garbs and hailed us, their Interpreters. From every wave
stretched Undine arms to greet us, and tongues of flame taught us the
glories of the element.
Sometimes in giddy pauses shone sad eyes--yet not reproachful on me; but
if I sighed in answer to their shining, Aspiro dazzled in betwixt me and
my memory, and bade me 'cease not striving,' while her white finger
pointed farther onward. For our love-life was a striving, and life's
best porcelain was like common clay for fashioning vessels for its use.
I gave up all to her, time, talent, ingenuity. Studying for her caprices
and struggling for her pleasure. How fair she seemed, how worthy any
effort! If only I might hope that I, at last, should wholly win her
approbation and make our union indissoluble. Her radiant smiles, and
lofty, loving words, were hard to win, but then, when won--! Who ever
looked and spoke and smiled as did Aspiro?
There was neither rest nor dalliance on our way. Unrest lit meteors in
the heaven of my mistress's eyes, and I lost, at length, the delusion
that I should ever satisfy all her imperious exactions. Then I hoped to
make but some one thought or deed quite worthy of her favor, even to the
sacrifice of my life.
I strove my utmost in the Art we loved. The strife consumed the dross of
daily, petty hopes and fears, which make the happiness of common lives,
and left my soul a crucible receptive for refinement only; and Aspiro
tempted me to new endeavors by glimpses of the court which Nature holds,
wearing Dalmatian mantle and spray-bright crown, in realms forbidden
mortals.
'I thought, for my sake,' she would say, sadly,'you had already done
something better than you have.'
If my soul sickened then, my courage did not falter, nor did her
incentive beauty lose any of its charm.
I said: 'Give me a task, Aspiro, and I will please you yet.'
Then she pointed to me what I might do, and my work began.
In this work I reproduced my mistress's beauty and my love's
significance. Having learned the language of nature, I translated from
her hieroglyphic pages in characters of flame. With rash hands I
stripped false seemings from material beauty, and limned the naked
divinity of Idea. Shorn by degrees in my strife of youth and strength
and passion, I wound them in my work--toiling like paltry larvæ. And it
was done--retouched and lingered over long, apotheosized by mighty
effort. So I offered it to my Fate.
Never before, as at that moment, had Aspiro seemed so worthy to be won
at any cost. I trembled as I laid my work before her--she so transcended
Beauty. But still I hoped. I waited for her dawning smile and
outstretched hand, ready to die of attained longing when these should be
bestowed.
She, gleaming like ice, transfixed me coldly, and, slighting with her
glance my work, asked: 'Can you do no more?'
I answered with weary hopelessness: 'No more.'
How cold her laugh was!
'And have I waited on you all these years for this?'
I echoed drearily: 'For this.'
'Well, blot it out, and try again, if you would please me,' said Aspiro.
With spent strength I cast myself at her feet.
'You see,' I said,'I have mixed these colors with my life-wine.'
'Why, then,' she asked, carelessly, 'with your insufficient strength,
were you tempted to woo and follow me?'
So my life with its endeavors was a wreck. I thought of the good I had
sacrificed, of the hopes that had failed. The Past and Future alike
pierced my hands with crucificial nails, till, faint with the pain and
the scorning, I lapsed into a long prostration, from which I came at
last to the dawn-light of sad, once-forgotten eyes--to the odor of
withered rosemary.
'True heart that I spurned,' I cried, 'can you forgive? I will return
Aspiro scorn for scorn, and go humbly back, where it is perhaps not yet
too late for happiness.'
With dreary reproaches came memory, disenthralled. I dreamed of my
youth, its love, and its aim. I pictured a porch with its breeze-tossed
vines, a rocking boat on a limpid lake, a narrow path through
twilight-brooded woods, and each scene the shrine of a sweet face with
brown, banded hair, and love-lit eyes.
And these pictures were the True. My heart cleaved the eternity of
separation, beaconing my sad return to them, and I followed gladly, hope
being not yet dead.
The summer porch was shady with fragrant vines--but I missed the face. I
buoyed my heart, and said, 'Of course she would not have waited so
long.'
I went to the woods, through the narrow paths where of old the birds
twittered, and javelins of sunshine pierced--on, where we had gone
together long ago, till I reached the dell where we pledged our love.
Ah! I should find her here--
The sweet face where I should kindle smiles--the brown hair I could once
more stroke--the lithe form that I longed to clasp--the true heart that
should beat for me in a quiet home.
No. No waiting eyes--no true heart --no glad smile. But a cross and a
grave and a name:
'CHRISTINE.'
* * * * *
Aspirants of the Age! Offspring of Alo[=e]us I you have chosen a worship
that admits not a divided heart. But your faith, like the Mystic's,
shall also make your strength; and though _Aspiro_ stoops not to your
stature, yet she reigns, and she rewards. Be true. Be firm. Even if it
be upon the wreck of some frail, temporal heart-hopes, you _must_ reach
higher, till, in the sheen of the approving smile, you read the
world-lesson: Salvation through sacrifice. Through strife and
suffering--excellence.
THE RED MAN'S PLEA.
ALMOST LITERALLY THE REPLY OF 'RED IRON' TO GOVERNOR RAMSEY.
The snow is on the ground, and still my people wait;
They ask but their just dues, ere yet it be too late;
For we are poor, our huts are cold, we starve, we die,
While you are rich, your fires are warm, your harvests lie
High heaped above the hunting grounds, our fathers' graves,
We sold you long ago. Alas! our famished braves
Have sold e'en their own graves! When dead, our bones shall stay
To whiten on the ground, that our Great Father may
More surely see where his Dacotah children died--
His dusky children whom ye robbed, and then belied.
BUCKLE, DRAPER, AND A SCIENCE OF HISTORY
_THIRD PAPER_
In any classification of our intellectual domain which it is possible to
make on the basis of Principles now known to the Scientific world at
large, the most fundamental characteristic should be, the distinctive
separation of those departments of thought in which _Certainty_ is now
attainable, from those in which only varying degrees of Probability
exist, and the clear exhibition of that which is _positive and
demonstrable knowledge_, in the strict sense of the term, as
distinguished from that which is liable to be more or less fallible.
Although the precise point at which, in some cases, the proofs of
Probable Reasoning cease to be as convincing as those of Demonstration
cannot be readily apprehended, yet the essential nature of the two
_methods_ of proof is radically and inherently different, and is marked
by the most distinctive results. In the latter case, we have always
accuracy, precision, and certainty, _beyond the possibility of doubt_;
in the former, always the conviction that, how strong soever the array
of evidence may seem to be, in favor of a particular inference, there
still remains a possibility that the conclusion may be modified or
vitiated by the subsequent advancement of knowledge.
The Generalizations which respectively affirm that all the angles of a
triangle are equal to two right angles, or that the square of the
hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the
squares of the other two sides, rest upon an entirely different basis of
proof from those upon which the Generalizations rest which respectively
assert that water is composed of certain chemical constituents combined
in certain proportions, or that the nerves are the instruments of
sensation and of motion. The former are irresistible conclusions of the
human mind, because, from the nature of the intellect, they cannot be
conceived of as being otherwise. The Laws of Thought are such, that we
are unable to think a triangle whose angles will _not_ be equal to two
right angles, or a right-angled one, the square of whose hypothenuse
will _not_ be equal to the squares of the other two sides. So long,
therefore, as man is constituted as he now is--unless the human
organization becomes radically changed, these geometrical Laws cannot be
conceived as being otherwise than as they are. All men must apprehend
them alike if they apprehend them at all. So long as man lives and
thinks they remain unalterable verities, about which there can be no
shadow of doubt, no possibility of error.
The doctrine that water is composed of certain definite chemical
constituents in certain definite proportions, or the theory that the
nerves are the instruments of sensation and of motion, rests upon no
such foundation. Whenever water has been analyzed, it has yielded the
same separate elements in the same proportions; and whenever these
elements are put together in the same quantitative ratio they have
produced water; so that the conviction is proximately established in the
minds of all that water is invariably the product of these elements in
certain proportions. But this proof does not establish the
generalization as _inevitably true, nor show that it is impossible for
it to be otherwise_. It is _possible_, in the nature of things, for us
to conceive that the fluid which we call water may be produced from
other constituents than oxygen or hydrogen, or that such a fluid may
even now exist undiscovered, the product of elements altogether
unknown.
So in regard to the nerves. Observation and experiment have established
to the general satisfaction, that they are the instruments of sensation
and motion; but we are not _absolutely sure_ that this is the fact, nor
can we _know_ that a human being may not be born in whom no trace of
nerves can be detected, and who will nevertheless experience sensation
and exhibit motion. We may be as well satisfied, for all practical
purposes, of the nature of water and of the office of the nerves as of
the nature of a triangle; but the character of the evidence, on which
the convincement is based, is essentially different; being, in the one
case, incontrovertible and infallible; and, in the other, indecisive and
_possibly_ fallacious.
This repetition of that which has been substantially stated before,
brings us to the final consideration of the distinctive nature of
different departments of Thought, as indicated by the Methods of Proof
which respectively prevail in them; and hence as embodying either exact
and definite _Knowledge_, or only varying degrees of _Probability_. We
have already seen that in at least one sphere of intellectual activity
we are able to start from the most basic and fundamental conceptions,
from axiomatic truths so patent and universal that they cannot even be
conceived of as being otherwise than as they are, and to proceed from
them, by equally irresistible Inferences, to conclusions which are, from
the nature of the human mind, inevitable. It is in the Mathematics, in
which the Deductive Method is rightly operative, that this kind of
Proof--Demonstration in the strict sense of the term--prevails. The
various branches of Mathematics have therefore been appropriately
denominated the _Exact_ Sciences, in contradistinction from those
domains of Thought whose Laws or Principles are liable to be somewhat
indefinite or uncertain; hence, called the _Inexact_ Sciences.
Exact Science--in its largest sense, that which extends to all domains
in which the proper Deductive Method has been or may hereafter be
rightly employed--is therefore a _system or series of truths relating to
the whole Universe, or to some department of it, consecutively and
necessarily resulting from, and dependent upon, each other, in a
definite chain or series; and resting primarily upon some fundamental
truth or truths so simple and self-evident, that, when clearly stated,
all men must, by the natural constitution of the human mind, perceive
them and recognize them as true. Demonstration is the pointing out of
the definite links in the chain or series by which we go from
fundamental truths, clearly perceived and irresistible, up to the
particular truth in question_.
Thus far in the history of Science, Mathematics, as a whole, has ranked
as the only Exact Science; being the only department of intellectual
activity, all of whose Laws or Principles are established on a basis of
_undeniable certainty_. If, however, theories of Cosmogony and
considerations of Cosmography be excluded from the field of Astronomy,
this Science consists almost wholly of the application of the Laws of
Mathematics to the movements of the celestial bodies. Restricting
Astronomy proper to this domain, where, as a _Science_, it strictly
belongs, and setting aside its merely descriptive and conjectural
features, as hardly an integral part of the Science itself, we have
another Exact Science in addition to Mathematics.
Of still another domain, that of Physics, Professor Silliman says, 'all
its phenomena are dependent on a limited number of general laws ...
which may be represented by numbers and algebraic symbols; and these
condensed _formulæ_ enable us to conduct investigations with the
certainty and precision of pure Mathematics.'
The various branches of Physics have not hitherto been ranked as Exact
Sciences, because, as in Astronomy, unsubstantiated theories and
doubtful generalizations, incapable of Mathematical Proof, have mingled
with their _Demonstrated_ Laws and Phenomena, as a component part of
the Science itself. It has consequently exhibited an ambiguous or
problematical aspect, incompatible with the rigorous requirements of
Exact Science. Even in Professor Silliman's admirable work, _formulæ_
are given as Laws, which, however correct, have yet no foundation in
axiomatic truth; while Inferences are drawn from them which are by no
means capable of _Demonstration_. Strictly speaking, however, only those
Laws which _do_ rest upon a Demonstrable basis and the Phenomena derived
from them come within the scope of the _Science_ of Physics. So far as
these prevail, this department of investigation is entitled to the
Mathematical character accorded to it by Professor Silliman, and ranks
as an Exact Science.
Astronomy and Physics, viewed in the light in which they are here
presented, are rather special branches of Mathematics, than distinct
Sciences. But as we often speak of Geometry as a separate Science,
although it is in reality only a division of the Mathematical domain,
and is so classed by Comte; so there is a sense in which both Astronomy
and Physics, as herein defined, may be regarded as individual Sciences,
and in that character they will be considered in this paper.
We have, then, three domains in which the true Deductive Method is
active; in which we can start from universally recognized Truths and
proceed, by irresistible Inferences, to ulterior Principles and Facts.
In three Sciences, in Mathematics as commonly defined and understood, in
Astronomy and Physics as herein circumscribed, we are able to establish
starting points of thought with Mathematical certainty, and to deduce
from them all the Phenomena of their respective realms.
Within the scope of these three Sciences, therefore, our information is
clearly defined, positive, and indisputable. The conclusions to which we
are led by their Principles can no more be gainsayed than human
existence can be doubted. While time shall last, while mankind shall
endure, while the human Mind is constructed on its present basis; while,
in fine, there is a possibility for the exercise of Thought in any way
conceivable to the existing Mentality of the universe, the Laws of
Mathematics, of Astronomy, and of Physics can be apprehended in no way
different from that in which they are now apprehended. There is _no
conceivable possibility_ that subsequent investigations will show them
to be erroneous or defective. They stand upon a foundation of Proof as
unalterable as the fiat of Fate or the decrees of the Almighty, which
can neither be shaken nor destroyed.
It is between these three Mathematical Sciences, on the one side, and
all other domains of intellectual investigation on the other, that a
line of distinct demarcation must be drawn, in any Classification of our
so-called Knowledge, in accordance with any method of classification
known to the scientific world at large. Not that the Laws or Principles
which lie at the base of all other departments of the universe are not
as stable, as definite, and as infallible as those which inhere in the
Sciences which have been specially indicated. But that, as yet, the
endeavor to apprehend fundamental Principles, in other spheres than
these, has been attended with only partial success; and hence, the
ability to establish a Mathematical or Demonstrable basis for other
regions of Thought is yet wanting, so far as is commonly known.
When, therefore, we emerge from the domains of Mathematics, Astronomy,
and Physics, we are leaving the field of _positive assurance_, of
_undeniable_ truth, and entering the realms where opinion, conjecture,
and variable degrees of certainty prevail. _The Facts of Observation may
be, indeed, as plain here as elsewhere and as firmly established. But
the conclusions drawn from them, the Scientific Principles assumed to
be established, may be erroneous or defective, and the power of
prevision, the great test of Scientific accuracy, is proportionally
wanting._ Derived, as we have hitherto seen these conclusions to be,
from Phenomena, on the supposition that a given range of Observation
will secure all the essential Principles which appertain to the _whole_
of the Phenomena included in the range, we can never be _entirely sure_
that our basis of Facts is sufficient for our purpose, and hence the
_possibility_ of error always exists.
It is not to be understood, therefore, that first or observational
_Facts_ are not rightly to be known in other departments of
investigation than Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics; but that Laws,
Principles, or Generalizations which _relate_ Facts and serve as
instruments for penetrating into the deeper arcana of Nature, cannot be
precisely, accurately, and certainly _known_, in their relations and
belongings, until we are able to establish their connection with the
lowest, most fundamental, and self-evident truths, and in this manner
become competent to advance step by step from undeniable first truths to
those equally undeniable. In Mathematics, in Astronomy, and in Physics,
we are able to do this. We _know_ the Laws or Principles of these
Sciences, therefore, so far as we have developed the Sciences
themselves. We know the relations of the various Laws within the range
of each Science, and the relations of the different Sciences with each
other. We can advance, within their boundaries, from the simplest and
most positive verities, such as the whole is equal to all its parts--a
self-evident truth, which it is impossible to conceive as being
otherwise than as here stated--up to the most intricate ulterior Facts
of the universe, by Inferences which are as irresistible to the mind as
the axioms with which we started. In no other domains of Thought can
this be done by any methods now in vogue. In no other realms, therefore,
are complete precision and infallibility attainable. It is this which
constitutes the peculiar character of these three Sciences, and
distinguishes them radically from all others.
The whole body of our authoritative and irrevocably determinate
intellectual acquisitions lies, therefore, at the present time, so far
as is commonly known, within the range of Mathematics, Astronomy, and
Physics. These are in strictness the only _Sciences_ which we possess;
and the only domains in which _knowledge_, in the proper sense of the
term, is attainable. In passing their boundaries, we leave the regions
of positive _certitude_, and come into the domain where Conjecture,
varying from the strongest presumption to mere plausibility, is the
highest proof. Laws or Principles are yet undiscovered there, and in
their place we find Generalizations--Suppositive or Proximate
Laws--which are in process of proof, or already established by such
evidence as the Inductive Method can array, and which carry the
conviction of their correctness with varying degrees of force, to larger
or smaller classes of investigators.
These three branches of knowledge are unquestionably entitled to the
designation of _Positive_ Sciences; and to no others can it with justice
be accorded. To apply the name of _Science_ to domains in which real
knowledge is not attainable, is, in some sense, an abuse of terms. To
denominate _Positive Sciences_, domains which are not strictly
Scientific, and in which _positive_ certainty, in reference to
Principles and ulterior Facts, cannot be attained, is still more
incongruous. Comte's arrangement of the schedule of the Positive
Sciences, in which domains where Demonstrable knowledge prevails are
placed upon a common basis with those in which it does not, was probably
owing to the want of a clear perception on his part of the essential
difference of the nature of proof by the true Deductive Method and of
proof by the Inductive Method, of the _actual_ Certainty of the one and
the merely _proximate_ Certainty of the other.
If such were the case, his want of discrimination was rather due to an
overestimate of Inductive proof than to an undervaluation of
Mathematical Demonstration. That Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics
were more perfect Sciences than the others in point of _precision_, he
distinctly affirms, pointing out that 'the relative perfection of the
different Sciences consists in the degree of precision of Knowledge,'
that this degree of precision is in accordance with the extent to which
Mathematical analysis can be applied to the given domain, and that to
the above-mentioned Sciences only is its application possible.
Notwithstanding this apprehension of the different degrees of
_precision_ or _exactitude_ attainable in the various Scientific realms,
he does not seem to have sufficiently understood that there was also a
vast difference in the _nature of the evidence_ which went to prove the
truth of the supposed Principles and ulterior Facts of the various
departments of Thought, and hence variable degrees of _Certainty_ in
regard to the positive bases of the Principles themselves. He thus falls
into the same error which it was one of the main purposes of his
Scientific labors to correct--commingling problematical theories with
Demonstrable Truths, as equally entitled to belief--and ranks Sociology,
including _La Morale_, afterward called a distinct Science, with
Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics, as domains in which our reasonings,
in the present state of Knowledge, can be equally reliable.
It is barely possible that the purpose and design of Comte's
Classification had, unconsciously, much to do with its really
unscientific and incongruous character. The aim which he had in view was
to construct a Sociology or Science of Society which should be a guide
in the establishment of a new Government, a new Political Economy, a new
Religion, a new Social Life, a new Order of Things, in fine, to take the
place of the decrepit institutions, governmental, ecclesiastical, and
social, which he thought were fast approaching their period of
dissolution. The Generalization which had exhibited to him, that the
Laws and Phenomena of the various departments of investigation were
dependent on each other in a graduated scale, and had thus enabled him
to establish the _Hierarchy of the Sciences_, showed him that Sociology,
including as it does the Principles and Phenomena of the other domains
which he regards as Positive Sciences, must be based upon them.
Hence it became necessary to fix the Scientific character of all these
branches of intelligence, in order to create a Scientific basis for his
Sociology. It was, however, impossible for him to claim that a
Demonstrable or Infallible method of Proof was applicable to Chemistry
and Biology; while, on the other hand, to exhibit such a method as
introducing a certainty into Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics which
did not appertain to the other so-called Positive Sciences, would have
indicated too plainly the unspanned gulf which yawned between the
indubitable Demonstrations of the Exact Sciences and the merely probable
Generalizations of the others, and have exposed the fallible character
of his Sociological theories.
A Classification was rendered indispensable, therefore, which should
display uniformity in its character, and a sufficiently rigorous mode of
Scientific proof. To fulfil this end, the Inexact Sciences were accorded
a position of _certainty_ in reference to their Principles which does
not in reality belong to them; while the Exact or Infallible Sciences
were degraded from their peculiarly high state, and brought to the new
level of the former on the middle ground of the Positive Philosophy. A
quasi-Scientific basis was thus erected for the Sociological movements
of the French Reformer.
Had he been as _Metaphysically analytical_, _profound_, and
_discriminating_ in his intellectual development, as he was _vigorous_,
_expansive_, and _broadly generalising_, he would have discerned the
insufficiency of the bases of the structure which he was building. Had
he understood the Scientific problem of the age, he would have known
that until the task which he believed too great for accomplishment was
adequately performed, until all the phenomena of the respective Sciences
were brought within the scope of a larger Science and included under a
Universal Law, there could be no 'clearness, precision, and consistency'
throughout all our domains of Thought, and hence no _true_ Sociology.
Had he rightly apprehended the nature of 'The Grand Man,' as he aptly
denominates Humanity, he would not have failed to perceive that the
attempt to measure the capacities and requirements of Society by the
capacities and requirements of any individual or individuals, how
catholic soever they may be, is but the repetition of the Procrustean
principle on a broader basis, and that a reconstructive movement
established on such a foundation could not meet the wants of this
individualized epoch. That he should not have perceived that the capital
and necessary precursor of any true Science of Society must be a
Universal Science, a Science of Universal Laws underlying and unifying
Physics and Metaphysics, is not strange, when we consider his peculiar
mental characteristics. That he should ever have anticipated any
permanent acceptance of his Sociological Theories, or regarded his
Social Institutions as anything more than transitional forms, could only
have been due to a lack of the highest Scientific powers, and to an
earnest impatience at beholding Humanity crawling along the path of
Progress by the aid of obsolete instrumentalities.
The work which Auguste Comte accomplished was immense. Its value can
hardly be overestimated. Every modern Scientist and Thinker is largely
indebted to him for that which is indispensable to high intellectual
development and progress in thought. For the immense steps in Scientific
advancement which he took; for his love of his Race; for his really
religious spirit, exhibited in his utter devotion to that which he
deemed the highest right; the love and sympathy of every student of
Science and every devotee of truth is, and will be, forever his. That he
failed in achieving a permanent Scientific basis of a sufficiently
universal and unquestionable character--a real Universology, which
should exhibit the essential verity of the _religious intuitions_ of the
past, and should establish their inherent and harmonious connection with
the unfolding _intellectual discoveries_ of the present--is true. But it
should not be forgotten that every attempt, made in the right direction,
which comes short of the final result, is but a stepping stone for the
next effort, and, viewed as a single round in the great ladder of human
ascension, a success--an element without which the final achievement
would have been impossible. Without Comte there would have been no
Buckle, whose work furnishes another of these steps. Every page of the
'History of Civilization' exhibits the indebtedness of the English
Historian to the French Encyclopædist of the Sciences; while the
'Intellectual Development of Europe' bears evidence of a 'Positivist'
inspiration to which Professor Draper might have more completely yielded
with decided benefit. For the lift which the author of the Positive
Philosophy and the founder of the Positive Religion has given the world,
let us be deeply grateful; although we must reject, as a finality, a
System of Science which cannot _Demonstrate_ the correctness of its
Principles and Phenomena, or a System of Religion which emasculates
mankind of its diviner and more spiritual aspirations, and dwarfs him to
the dimensions of a refined Materialism.
In classifying our existing Knowledge, then, on our present basis of
Scientific acquisition, we must draw a distinct line between
Mathematics, Astronomy, and Physics, on the one side, and all remaining
departments of Thought, on the other, and set these three Sciences apart
as the Exact or Infallible ones, occupying a rank superior to the
others, by virtue of the Certainty and Exactitude with which we are
able, through the operation of the true Deductive Method, to ascertain
their Principles and Phenomena. We shall then be enabled--by the aid of
Comte's principle that the domains of investigation take rank in
proportion to the complexity of their Phenomena--to ascertain, after a
very brief examination, the place which History holds in the Scale, and
how much claim it can lay to a Scientific character.
Comte closes the Hierarchy of the Positive Sciences by adding to the
three which we have denominated _Exact_ Sciences, Chemistry, Biology,
Sociology, and _La Morale_, in the order in which they are named, as
indicated by the nature of the Phenomena with which they are concerned.
If we adopt this arrangement, and annex to each of these _general_
Sciences, as they are called in the language of Positivism, its derived
or dependent branches, we shall have the following order: Chemistry;
Geology; Biology, including Botany, Human and Comparative Anatomy, and
Physiology; Zoology; Sociology; and _La Morale_. Although this enlarged
scale is defective, many important departments, such as Ethnology,
Philology, etc., being left out, it is sufficiently correct to show the
complex nature of the Phenomena with which History must concern itself.
History--in its largest aspect, that in which we are now considering
it--is the record of the progress of the Race in all its various modes
of development. In it is therefore involved the examination and
consideration of all the agencies, Material or Spiritual, which have
operated on Mankind through past ages. Mathematical questions concerning
Number, Form, and Force; Astronomical problems on the relation of our
Earth to other Celestial bodies, and the effect thereof on Climate,
Soil, and Modes of Life; Physical inquiries into the influence of Heat,
Electricity, etc., on individuals and nations; Chemical investigations
into the nature of different kinds of Food, and their relations to the
animal economy, and hence to the career of Peoples; Geological
researches to discover the origin of the human Race, and its position in
the Animal Kingdom; questions of Physiology, of Social Life, of
Ethnology, of Metaphysics, of Religion; every problem, in fine, which
the world has been called to consider, forms a part of the record of its
progress and comes within the scope of History. As the Descriptology, or
verbal daguerreotyping of the Continuity of Society, and hence of the
Dynamical aspect of Concrete Sociology, History stands, then, in a
sense, at the head of the scale, omitting Theology, the true apex of the
pyramid of Sciences, which pyramid Comte has decapitated of this very
apex.
The problems which History is called to solve are therefore exceedingly
intricate and perplexing. The Generalizations of Chemistry, conducted,
as they must be, on our present basis of Knowledge, by the Inductive
Method, are involved in a degree of uncertainty, not only on account of
the complexity of their Phenomena, but also by reason of the absence of
any method of ascertaining when all the elements of a right
Generalization are obtained. In Geology, including Mineralogy, the
complexity increases, and the possibility of precision and certainty
decreases in the same ratio. This augmentation of complexity in the
Phenomena and proportionate diminution of exactitude and certainty in
respect to the Generalizations derived from them, continues at every
successive degree of the scale; so that when we arrive at History, all
hope of even proximate precision, and all expectation of anything like
positive Knowledge, except in the broadest outline and generalization,
by any application of the Inductive Method, has completely vanished.
The hopelessness of a Science of History prior to the discovery of a
Unitary Law and the introduction of the Deductive Method into all
domains of investigation, now becomes plainly apparent. Until the
occurrence of that event we shall look in vain for a true Science of
History. With the advent of such a discovery, it will be possible to
carry the precision and infallibility of Mathematical Demonstration into
all departments of Thought, and to subject the Phenomena of History to
well-defined and indubitable Laws.
We must guard, however, against entertaining the supposition that a
Unitary Science will bring _all_ the Phenomena of the universe within
the compass of _Demonstrable_ apprehension. The province of Science is
not infinite, but circumscribed. We are limited in the application of
Mathematical Laws, even within the sphere of Pure Mathematics; general
equations of the fifth degree having until recently resisted all
attempts to solve them; and fields yet remain into which we cannot
advance. The power of the human mind to analyze Phenomena ceases at some
point, and there our ability to _apply_ Scientific Principles, however
indubitable in themselves, ends. It is the office of Exact Science to
furnish us with a knowledge of the inherent Laws which everywhere
pervade the Universe and govern continuously and unalterably its
activities. To the extent to which it is possible to trace the
constituent elements of Thought or Things we can have the guidance of
these Laws or Principles. But when we reach that point in any department
of investigation where the complexity of the Phenomena renders it
impossible for the human intellect to successfully analyze it and
discover its separate parts, the sphere of accurate Scientific Knowledge
is transcended. The Intuition--the faculty which apprehends what we may
call the spirit of _Concrete_ things, which goes to conclusions by a
rapid process that overleaps intermediate steps, which is our guide in
the numerous decisions that we are called to make in our every-day life,
and which perceives, in a somewhat vague and indefinite manner--becomes
our only guide in this Realm of the Inexact.
The advent of a Unitary Science and the inauguration of a true Deductive
Method in all domains of Thought, will, indeed, completely revolutionize
our Scientific bases, and render precision and infallibility possible in
domains where now only conjecture and probability exist. It will enable
us to establish on a firm and secure foundation the _Laws or Principles
of every department of the Universe of Matter and of Mind_, and to
penetrate the Phenomena of all realms to an extent now scarcely
imagined. It will furnish us the 'Criterion of Truth' so long sought
after--a ground of intellectual agreement in all the concerns of life,
so far as this is essential, similar to that which we now have in
Mathematics, where difference of opinion is impossible because _proof is
of a nature to be alike convincing to all_.
But, as in Mathematics a limit is reached, beyond which the finite
character of our intelligence does not permit us to _apply_ the Laws
which we are well assured still prevail, so there is an outlying circle
of practical activity which no Science can compass. The various tints of
the autumn forest are probably the results of Mathematical arrangements
of particles; but to how great an extent we shall be able to discover
what precise arrangement produces a given shade of color, is doubtful.
Some delicate varieties, at least, will always be beyond our definite
apprehension. Whether we shall dine at one hour or another, whether we
will wear gray or black, and innumerable other questions of specialty,
do not come within the range of Scientific solution, and never can. So
that when every domain of human concern is solidly established on a
basis of Exact Science, there will still remain a field of indefinite
extent, in which the Intuitive application of eternal Principles will
furnish an unlimited activity for the Practical, Æsthetic, Imaginative,
Idealistic, Artistic, and Religious faculties of Mankind.
The task which Mr. Buckle set himself to accomplish was, in a marked
sense, original and peculiar. Although several systematic attempts had
been made in Europe, prior to his time, to investigate the history of
man according to those exhaustive methods which in other branches of
Knowledge have proved successful, and by which alone empirical
observations can be raised to scientific truths, the imperfect state of
the Physical Sciences necessarily rendered the execution of such an
undertaking extremely defective. It was not, indeed, until the vast mass
of Facts which make up the body of the various Sciences had been
included within appropriate formulæ, and until the elaborate
Classification of Auguste Comte had separated that which was properly
Knowledge from that which was not, with sufficient exactitude to answer
the purposes of broad Generalization, and had established the relations
of the different domains of intelligence, that such a work as the
'History of Civilization' was possible.
Previous Historians, with these few exceptions, had contented themselves
with the narration of the _Facts_ of national progress, the merely
superficial exhibition of the external method of a people's life, and
had almost wholly neglected or greatly subordinated the Philosophical or
Scientific aspect of the subject, namely, the causes of the given
development. Separate domains of History had, indeed, been examined with
considerable ability; but hardly any attempt had been made to combine
the various parts into a consistent whole, and ascertain in what way
they were connected with each other. Still less had there been any
notable effort to apply the whole body of our existing knowledge to the
elucidation of the problem of human progress. While the necessity of
generalization in all the other great realms of investigation had been
freely conceded, and strenuous exertions had been made to rise from
particular Facts to the discovery of the Laws by which those Facts are
governed, Historians continued to pursue the stereotyped course of
merely relating events, interspersed with such reflections as seemed
interesting or instructive.
Up to the period when Mr. Buckle essayed his 'History of Civilization,'
few, if any, of the well-known modern Historians had conceived that an
acquaintance with all the departments of human intelligence was a
necessary accomplishment in a writer on the past career of the world,
and no one of them had undertaken to write history from that basis.
'Hence,' says the author whom we are considering, and who makes, in the
first pages of his book, substantially the same statements concerning
the condition of Historical literature which are made here--'hence the
singular spectacle of one historian being ignorant of political economy;
another knowing nothing of law; another, nothing of ecclesiastical
affairs, and changes of opinion; another neglecting the philosophy of
statistics, and another physical science; although these topics are the
most essential of all, inasmuch as they comprise the principal
circumstances by which the temper and character of mankind have been
affected, and in which they are displayed. These important pursuits
being, however, cultivated, some by one man, and some by another, have
been isolated rather than united: the aid which might be derived from
analogy and from mutual illustration has been lost; and no disposition
has been shown to concentrate them upon history, of which they are,
properly speaking, the necessary components.'
The work which Mr. Buckle contemplated was designed to supply this
_desideratum_ in respect to History. It was an endeavor to discover 'the
Principles which govern the character and destiny of nations,' an effort
'to bring up this great department of inquiry to a level with other
departments,' 'to accomplish for the history of man something
equivalent, or at all events analogous to, what has been effected by
other inquirers for the different branches of Natural Science,' and 'to
elevate the study of history from its present crude and informal state,'
and place 'it in its proper rank, as the head and chief of all the
Sciences.'
At the outset of his undertaking, we have ample evidence that the
capacious-minded Englishman had fixed upon no less a labor than '_to
solve the great problem of affairs; to detect those hidden circumstances
which determine the march and destiny of nations; and to find, in the
events of the past, a key to the proceedings of the future, which is
nothing less than to unite into a single science all the laws of the
moral and physical world_.' He was thus bent, doubtless with only a
vague apprehension of the nature of the problem, on the discovery of
that Unitary Law, whose apprehension is so anxiously awaited, _which is
to cement the various branches of our Knowledge into a Universal
Science, and furnish an Exact basis for all our thinking_.
The Method which Mr. Buckle employed in the prosecution of his
magnificent design was the Inductive. He made 'a collection of
historical and scientific facts,' drew from them such conclusions as he
thought they suggested and authorized; and then applied the
Generalizations thus obtained to the elucidation of the career of
various countries. When we consider the nature of the work undertaken
and the means by which it was to be achieved, we can hardly deny, that
this attempt to create a Science of History was, in a distinguishing
sense, the most gigantic intellectual effort which the world has ever
been called to witness. The domain of investigation was almost new. The
point of Observation entirely so. Vast masses of Facts encumbered it,
aggregated in orderless heaps--orderless, at least, so far as his uses
were subserved. Comte had, indeed, brought the different departments of
inquiry into proximately definite relations in obedience to an
_abstract_ and _Static_ Law; but while this labor was, in other
respects, an essential preliminary to Mr. Buckle's undertaking, it was
of little _immediate_ value in an attempt to secure the direct solution
of the most intricate and complex questions of Concrete _dynamical_
Sociology, involving the unstable and shifting contingencies of
individual activity. The whole of the intellectual accumulations of the
centuries may be said to have been piled about the English Thinker, and
he was to discover in and derive from them the unerring Law or Laws
which should serve to explain, with at least something approaching
precision and clearness, the kaleidoscopic phases of human existence.
Only one generally known effort in the realm of Thought bears any
comparison to this, examined in reference to the vigor, breadth, and
variety of the mental faculties which it called into requisition. Viewed
in connection with the work of the founder of the Positive School, we
may say, without any disparagement to the comprehensive abilities of the
French Philosopher, that the task undertaken by the English Historian
required a tenacity of intellectual grasp, a steadiness of mental
vision, a scope of generalizing power, an all-embracing scholarship, a
marvellous accumulation of Facts, and a wonderful readiness to handle
them, which even the prodigious labors of the Positive Philosophy did
not demand. Comte had, indeed, like Buckle, to arrange the Facts of the
universe into order. But in his case they were only to be grouped under
appropriate headings, and, as it were, quietly labeled.
With the author of 'Civilization in England' it was otherwise. In the
_actual_ careers of men and of nations, Facts do not stand related to
each other and to human actions in the distinct and distinguishable way
in which they appear when correlated, as by Comte, in accordance with
general Laws. The domain of the _concrete_, or of practical life, has
always a variable element which does not obtain in the sphere of
generalizing Principles, and which immensely complicates the
investigation of the problems of real existence. Comte purposely
excluded the realm of the _concrete_ from his studies, and therefore
simplified, to a great extent, his field of labor. Yet even in his
attempt to bring order into this curtailed department of inquiry, he
professes, not merely his own inability to accomplish, but his
conviction of the inherent impossibility of the accomplishment of that,
for the _abstract_ only, which Buckle really undertook for the
_concrete_; namely, the reduction of the Phenomena of the Universe to a
single Law; or, what is synonymous, the integration of all the laws of
the moral and physical world into a single Science.
The character of his undertaking compelled Mr. Buckle, on the contrary,
to stretch his mental antennæ into every department of mundane activity,
to hold the Facts there discovered, so far as he might, collectively
within his grasp, and to draw them by an irresistible strain into
gradually decreasing circles of generalization, until they were brought
to a Central Law, which should contain within itself the many-sided
explanation of the intricate ramifications of individual and national
careers. The difference in the work essayed by the two distinguished
Thinkers whose labors we are considering, is somewhat analogous to that
which exists between the profession of the apothecary and that of the
physician. The former must know the range of _Materia Medica_, and the
contents of the _Pharmacopæia_, so far as is necessary to arrange the
various medicines in order, and deliver them when called for. The latter
must hold the different remedies in his knowledge, not as classified
upon the pharmaceutist's shelves, but as related to the various forms of
constantly changing vital Phenomena, in the midst of which he is to
detect their applicability to different forms of disease. Still more
analogous is Comte to the student of Natural History, whose business it
is, preëminently, to distribute and classify the Animal Kingdom, in
accordance with Generalizations which relate mainly to the form or type
of organization; while Buckle resembles the student of a higher rank,
who endeavors, in the midst of the play of passion and the actual
exhibitions of life itself, to read the nature of the mental and moral
development which exists beneath them and controls their workings.
It is evident that, up to a period subsequent to the publication of his
first volume, the writer of the 'History of Civilization' entertained
the fullest confidence in the ability of the Inductive Method to cope
with the ultimate problems of the Universe, and had high expectations of
being able, through its instrumentality, to reduce the whole body of our
Knowledge to a systematic whole, and to establish a Science of Sciences
which should be a Criterion of Truth, and the crowning intellectual
achievement of the ages. Whether Mr. Buckle fully comprehended the real
nature of the Science toward which he was aiming; whether he entirely
appreciated the radical and important change which its discovery would
necessarily introduce into our Methods of Investigation;--whether he
saw that it would be the inauguration of a true Deductive Mode of
reasoning, which would enable us to advance with incredible rapidity and
certainty into the arcana of those departments which he was then obliged
to explore with the most tedious research, the most plodding patience,
and the most destructive intellectual tension, in order to accumulate a
limited array of Facts, is somewhat doubtful.
The significant sentence which occurs in the second volume of his work,
closely following the announcement of his disappointment at being unable
to achieve all that he had expected and promised, and which states that
'in a complete scheme of our knowledge, and when all our resources are
fully developed and marshalled into order, as they must eventually be,
the two methods [the Inductive and the Deductive] will be, not hostile,
but supplementary, and will be combined into a single system,' seems to
indicate that at some period prior to the publication of the second
volume, and subsequent to the issue of the first, the insufficient
nature of the Inductive Method as a Scientific guide broke upon him, and
some conception of the nature of a Mode of Reasoning which should
combine the two Processes in just relations, began to dawn into his
mind. That he obtained anything more than a faint glimpse of the true
Method, is not likely. Had he done so, he would certainly have made some
statement of the great results which would follow its inauguration, even
if he could have refrained from bestowing one of his glowing and
enraptured paragraphs upon the fairest and most entrancing vision of
future achievement which the devotee of intellectual investigation will
ever witness.
It is probable, that in carrying on his investigations after the
publication of the first volume of his work, finding it impossible to
handle the accumulations of Facts necessary to his purpose, and
discovering the inexactitude and insufficiency of his Generalizations in
the ratio that the bounds of his field of inquiry enlarged, he was led
to perceive the essential weakness and inadequacy of the Inductive
Method, and the probable certainty that, at some future period, the
progress of our Knowledge would lead to the establishment of positive
bases for all departments of investigation, and thus furnish an
opportunity for the harmonious and reciprocal activity of the two
hitherto antagonistic Methods. That he had any definite idea of the
precise nature of the bases on which this union would take place, that
he perceived the exact character of the Science of Universology which it
would create, or contemplated the subordination of the Inductive Process
to the Deductive, there is no indication.
But whatever may have been Mr. Buckle's understanding or expectation in
reference to the future, it is certain that between the publication of
the first and second volumes of his History, the hope which he had
formed and announced of being able to create a Science of History had
vanished, and his efforts were confined to a less extensive programme.
The pages in which this change of purpose is made known display, in
touching outlines, tinged with a noble sadness, that the soul of the
great Englishman was, in all the attributes of magnanimity, at least, a
fitting mate for his intellect.
A storm of obloquy had assailed him at the outset of his labor.
Beginning with the time when the first instalment of 'Civilization in
England' was given to the public, passion, prejudice, and pride had
strained their powers to vilify his character and heap abuse upon his
name. The Press, the Pulpit, and the Lyceum, with rare and brave
exceptions, met the formidable array of Facts with which the work
bristled, by sciolistic criticisms, bigoted denunciations, or timid,
faint praise. Conservatives in Politics and Religion exhibited him as a
dangerous innovator, a social iconoclast, the would-be destroyer of all
that was sacred in Institutions and in Religion. Theologians branded him
as immoral and atheistic, and poured upon him a torrent of vituperation
and hatred.
The only public reply which the English writer condescended to make, is
contained in the closing pages of the fourth chapter of the last volume
which he published. Every line of this answer, which is transcribed
below, breathes the spirit of Him who, when he was reviled, reviled not
again--the spirit of forbearance, of generous forgiveness, of
magnanimity, of unruffled dignity. Buckle had learned, indeed, from his
own investigations, that he who would elevate mankind must expect, not
only its indifference to his labors, but its positive abuse. He knew,
that the individual who, like Jesus, attempts to promulgate new truth,
either moral or intellectual, must expect to array against himself the
greatest portion of the human family, incrusted in their prejudices,
their ignorance, their interests, or their feelings, and must be content
with the appreciation and sympathy of the few who are wise enough to
understand him, truthful enough to accept his doctrine, however
unwholesome to their tastes, and brave enough to avow it. Perhaps he had
also learned the fact, that, in the present state of humanity's
development, few, very few, even of the best of mankind, love truth,
chiefly _because it is truth_, and are hence eager to know their own
shortcomings; but that those truths only are, for the most part, capable
of being acceptably presented to individuals, which it is more
satisfactory to their personal feelings, more comfortable to their own
inherent peculiarities of disposition, to conform to than to reject. Be
this as it may, the reply which he makes to the outrages showered upon
him is evidently the language of a man whose thoughts are far removed
from the arena of petty spite or private resentment, the expression of
one who knew the grandeur and usefulness of his labors, who expected, in
their prosecution, to be misunderstood and calumniated, and who, yet,
was incapable of other than the most generous impulses of a noble
philanthropy toward his maligners and traducers.
In the announcement of his inability to fulfil the great promises made
in the former volume, we find, likewise, the indications of a nature
full of lofty grandeur. He who has known the scholar's hopes, the
student's struggles, and the author's ambition, may form some faint
conception of what must have been the feelings of the great Historian
when the conviction came to him, first faintly foreshadowed and then
deepening to a reality, that the prize for which he had contended--and
such a prize! which had seemed, too, at times, almost within his
grasp--was destined forever to elude him. Frankly to acknowledge failure
in such a struggle, was in itself great; to acknowledge it when the
cries of his assailants were still ringing in his ears, and when it
might have been measurably concealed, was still greater; to acknowledge
it in words which betray no trace of disappointed _personal_ ambition,
but only a regret that the final avenue to truth should not have been
opened, was heroic even to sublimity. The pages of Buckle's 'History of
Civilization' which record the answer to his traducers and the
acknowledgment of his disappointment in relation to what he should be
able to achieve, will stand in the annals of literary history as a
memorable instance in which is significantly exhibited one factor of
that highest religious spirit so much needed in our day--_devotion to
the intellectual discovery of all truth for truth's sake_.
The following is the passage in question:
'In the moral world, as in the physical world, nothing is
anomalous; nothing is unnatural; nothing is strange. All is order,
symmetry, and law. There are opposites, but there are no
contradictions. In the character of a nation, inconsistency is
impossible. Such, however, is still the backward condition of the
human mind, and with so evil and jaundiced an eye do we approach
the greatest problems, that not only common writers, but even men
from whom better things might be hoped, are on this point involved
in constant confusion. Perplexing themselves and their readers by
speaking of inconsistency, as if it were a quality belonging to the
subject which they investigate, instead of being, as it really is,
a measure of their own ignorance. It is the business of the
historian to remove this ignorance by showing that the movements of
nations are perfectly regular, and that, like all other movements,
they are solely determined by their antecedents. If he cannot do
this, he is no historian. He may be an annalist, or a biographer,
or a chronicler, but higher than that he cannot rise, unless he is
imbued with that spirit of science which teaches, as an article of
faith, the doctrine of uniform sequence; in other words, the
doctrine that certain events having already happened, certain other
events corresponding to them will also happen. To seize this idea
with firmness, and to apply it on all occasions, without listening
to any exceptions, is extremely difficult, but it must be done by
whoever wishes to elevate the study of history from its present
crude and informal state, and do what he may toward placing it in
its proper rank, as the head and chief of all the sciences. Even
then, he cannot perform his task unless his materials are ample,
and derived from sources of unquestioned credibility. But if his
facts are sufficiently numerous; if they are very diversified; if
they have been collected from such various quarters that they can
check and confront each other, so as to do away with all suspicion
of their testimony being garbled; and if he who uses them possesses
that faculty of generalization, without which nothing great can be
achieved, he will hardly fail in bringing some part of his labors
to a prosperous issue, provided he devotes all his strength to that
one enterprise, postponing to it every other object of ambition,
and sacrificing to it many interests which men hold dear. Some of
the most pleasurable incentives to action, he must disregard. Not
for him are those rewards which in other pursuits the same energy
would have earned; not for him, the sweets of popular applause; not
for him, the luxury of power; not for him, a share in the councils
of his country; not for him a conspicuous and honored place before
the public eye. Albeit, conscious of what he could do, he may not
compete in the great contest; he cannot hope to win the prize; he
cannot even enjoy the excitement of the struggle. To him the arena
is closed. His recompense lies within himself, and he must learn to
care little for the sympathy of his fellow creatures, or for such
honors as they are able to bestow. So far from looking for these
things, he should rather be prepared for that obloquy which always
awaits those, who, by opening up new veins of thought, disturb the
prejudices of their contemporaries. While ignorance, and worse than
ignorance, is imputed to him, while his motives are misrepresented
and his integrity impeached, while he is accused of denying the
value of moral principles, and of attacking the foundation of all
religion, as if he were some public enemy, who made it his business
to corrupt society, and whose delight it was to see what evil he
could do; while these charges are brought forward, and repeated
from mouth to mouth, he must be capable of pursuing in silence the
even tenor of his way, without swerving, without pausing, and
without stepping from his path to notice the angry outcries which
he cannot but hear, and which he is more than human if he does not
long to rebuke. These are the qualities, and these the high
resolves, indispensable to him who, on the most important of all
subjects, believing that the old road is worn out and useless,
seeks to strike out a new one for himself, and, in the effort, not
only perhaps exhausts his strength, but is sure to incur the enmity
of those who are bent on maintaining the ancient scheme unimpaired.
To solve the great problem of affairs; to detect those hidden
circumstances which determine the march and destiny of nations; and
to find, in the events of the past, a key to the proceedings of the
future, is nothing less than to unite into a single science all the
laws of the moral and physical world. Whoever does this, will build
up afresh the fabric of our knowledge, rearrange its various
parts, and harmonize its apparent discrepancies. Perchance, the
human mind is hardly ready for so vast an enterprise. At all
events, he who undertakes it will meet with little sympathy, and
will find few to help him. And let him toil as he may, the sun and
noontide of his life shall pass by, the evening of his days shall
overtake him, and he himself have to quit the scene, leaving that
unfinished which he had vainly hoped to complete. He may lay the
foundation; it will be for his successors to raise the edifice.
Their hands will give the last touch; they will reap the glory;
their names will be remembered when his is forgotten.
'It is, indeed, too true, that such a work requires, not only
several minds, but also the successive experience of several
generations. Once, I own, I thought otherwise. Once, when I first
caught sight of the whole field of knowledge, and seemed, however
dimly, to discern its various parts, and the relation they bore to
each other, I was so entranced with its surpassing beauty, that the
judgment was beguiled, and I deemed myself able, not only to cover
the surface, but also to master the details. Little did I know how
the horizon enlarges as well as recedes, and how vainly we grasp at
the fleeting forms, which melt away and elude us in the distance.
Of all that I had hoped to do, I now find but too surely how small
a part I shall accomplish. In those early aspirations, there was
much that was fanciful; perhaps there was much that was foolish.
Perhaps, too, they contained a moral defect, and savored of an
arrogance which belongs to a strength that refuses to recognize its
own weakness. Still, even now that they are defeated and brought to
nought, I cannot repent having indulged in them, but, on the
contrary, I would willingly recall them if I could. For, such hopes
belong to that joyous and sanguine period of life, when alone we
are really happy; when the emotions are more active than the
judgment; when experience has not yet hardened our nature; when the
affections are not yet blighted and nipped to the core; and when
the bitterness of disappointment not having yet been felt,
difficulties are unheeded, obstacles are unseen, ambition is a
pleasure instead of a pang, and the blood coursing swiftly through
the veins, the pulse beats high, while the heart throbs at the
prospect of the future. Those are glorious days; but they go from
us, and nothing can compensate their absence. To me, they now seem
more like the visions of a disordered fancy than the sober
realities of things that were, and are not. It is painful to make
this confession; but I owe it to the reader, because I would not
have him to suppose that either in this or in the future volumes of
my History I shall be able to redeem my pledge, and to perform all
that I promised. Something I hope to achieve which will interest
the thinkers of this age; and, something, perhaps, on which
posterity may build. It will, however, only be a fragment of my
original design.'
In estimating the extent to which Mr. Buckle succeeded in consummating
the labor which he undertook, we are not, therefore, to measure his
results by the standard of the first, but by that of the second volume.
It is not, then, the Science of History which he is striving to write;
but only something 'which will interest the thinkers of this age, and
something, perhaps, on which posterity may build.' His task, as thus
abridged, was confined to the endeavor to establish the 'four leading
propositions, which, according to my [his] view, are to be deemed the
basis of the history of civilization;' that is, the basis of a Science
of History. These propositions, given in a previous article, may be here
repeated:
'1st. That the progress of mankind depends on the success with
which the laws of phenomena are investigated, and on the extent to
which a knowledge of those laws is diffused. 2d. That before such
investigation can begin, a spirit of scepticism must arise, which,
at first aiding the investigation, is afterward aided by it. 3d.
That the discoveries thus made, increase the influence of
intellectual truths, and diminish, relatively, not absolutely, the
influence of moral truths; moral truths being more stationary than
intellectual truths, and receiving fewer additions. 4th. That the
great enemy of this movement, and therefore the great enemy of
civilization, is the protective spirit; by which I mean the notion
that society cannot prosper unless the affairs of life are watched
over and protected at nearly every turn by the state and the
church; the state teaching men what to do, and the church teaching
them what they are to believe.'
In the first paper of this series, which was devoted to the examination
of the third proposition as announced by Mr. Buckle and substantially
affirmed by Professor Draper, together with the consideration of the
fundamental Law of Human Progress, the error into which both of these
distinguished writers had fallen in regard to the relative influence of
moral and intellectual truths, was pointed out; as also the
misconception under which they rested concerning the Law of Human
Development. This misconception, it was then shown, arose from an
incorrect understanding of the essential character of the Law itself,
and could be traced, basically, to the same source whence sprang their
mistake in reference to the comparative power of moral and mental
forces. It is to a misapprehension, analogous to that which brought him
into error concerning these two important points, that the radical
defect of Mr. Buckle's first and fourth propositions is to be traced, as
will be hereafter exhibited.
The complete and exhaustive consideration of the second proposition
demands a range of Metaphysical examination which cannot be entered upon
at this time. For our present purposes it may be dismissed with the
following remarks:
That before men begin the investigation of any subject _deliberately_,
_reflectively_, and with a _fixed_ and _intelligent_ purpose of
ascertaining the truth concerning it, there must arise some feeling of
doubt in their minds in relation to the given subject or to some details
of it, is certainly true, and needed no array of evidence to prove it;
but that prior to such _conscious_ and _intentional_ effort at
exploration, there exists an _unconscious_ or _automatic_ action in the
mind, an instinctual and passive kind of thinking, a vague floating of
ideas _into_ the mental faculties, rather than an apprehension of them
by an active and deliberate _tension_ of the intellect, and that it is
through this kind of _intuitive investigation_ that the 'spirit of
scepticism' primarily arises, is equally true; though not, perhaps, at
the first blush, so apparent. In this sense, the statement of Mr. Buckle
is simply one half of a truism, the other half of which, not enunciated
by him, is equally correct.
Whether the spirit of scepticism--which then undoubtedly aids in the
investigation--_is afterward aided or fostered by it_, depends upon the
nature of the question investigated. If this be one which has hitherto
been considered as established upon a basis that was in every respect
right, and if errors are revealed in the process of the examination,
then, indeed, the spirit of scepticism is strengthened. But if, on the
contrary, the investigation be in reference to a range of thought which
rests upon a basis that is, in all ways, sound--concerning Mathematical
truths, for instance--then the sceptical spirit is _not_ aided by it,
but is, contrariwise, weakened.
In respect to the field of inquiry covered by the author of
'Civilization in England,' it was seen that numerous statements had been
accepted as true in early times, which closer scrutiny at a later period
showed to be erroneous. Hence there came to be a want of confidence in
the general basis upon which knowledge rested; and, as continued
research served to confirm the doubts previously existing, investigation
did aid, in this great department of thought, covering indeed the entire
history of the past, the spirit of scepticism. As a _fact_, therefore,
_in relation to this special sphere of inquiry_, Mr. Buckle's statement
is correct; as a universal _Generalization_ derived from this Fact, it
may or may not be true, according to the subject of examination to which
it is applied.
This proposition is, therefore, like that in relation to the moral and
intellectual elements--as previously shown--and like all Mr. Buckle's
Generalizations--as will be hereafter shown--a half-truth, a correct
statement of one side of a verity, good so far as it goes, but
essentially false when put for the whole, as in the present instance, or
when held so as to exclude the opposite half-truth.
It is this fact, that basic truth is everywhere made up of a _union of
opposites_, each of which seems, at first sight, to exclude the other,
which the Historian himself so forcibly expresses when he exclaims: 'In
the moral world, as in the physical world, nothing is anomalous; nothing
is unnatural; nothing is strange. All is order, symmetry, and law.
_There are opposites, but there are no contradictions.'_ Had he
understood the full meaning of this statement of the _inherently
paradoxical nature of truth_, and been able to give the Principle which
it establishes a universal application in unfolding the various domains
of human intelligence and activity, he would have grasped the Knowledge
for which he vainly strove, would have discovered the veritable Science
of the Sciences, the long-sought Criterion of Truth. In the absence of a
right understanding of this complex fact, that fundamental truth has
always two sides affirming directly opposite half-truths, he fell into
the error of mistaking the moiety for the whole, and has left us a world
in which, with all the aid that he has afforded us, we still fail to
discern the 'order, symmetry, and law' which undoubtedly pervade all its
parts--a world in which there is still exhibited, so far at least as
governmental, religious, and social affairs are concerned, an
'anomalous, strange, and unnatural' aspect.
Such consideration as it is feasible to give the first of these
historical propositions in these columns, was, for the most part,
included in that portion of the examination of the positions of our two
authors, which was contained in the opening paper of the series; though
no special application of Principles there elaborated was made to this
formula. It was there pointed out, that intellectual forces constitute
only _one_ of the factors in the sum of human progress, and that _moral_
forces are equally as important, being the second--the opposite and
complementary factor. In the light of that exposition, and of the brief
consideration here given to the second Generalization, it is perceptible
that the defect in this proposition consists, not in what it affirms,
but in what it does _not_ affirm. 'That the progress of mankind depends
on the success with which the laws of phenomena are investigated, and on
the extent to which a knowledge of those laws is diffused,' is a
statement which is undeniably true. It does not, however, contain the
_whole truth_ in relation to the subject of investigation. It is just as
correct to say that the progress of mankind depends on the success with
which the moral or religious faculties--faculties which instigate
devotion to our highest perception of right--are cultivated, and on the
extent to which they are practically active. For it is not in the
inculcation of intellectual truth alone, or preëminently, nor in the
cultivation of moral strength alone, or predominantly, that the progress
of mankind is secured; but in the developing vigor of _both_ mental and
moral forces, and in their mutual coöperation and assistance.
The proposition, as announced by Mr. Buckle, is, therefore, either a
half-truth, which does not sufficiently explain the cause of 'the
progress of mankind,' which the Historian avers that it unfolds, or it
is actually false, accordingly as it is understood to state a verity
which does not exclude the _affirmative_ statement of an opposite and
apparently antagonistic truth, or as it is interpreted to be the
explanation of the whole or main cause upon which the advancement of
society has depended. That the author of 'Civilization in England'
regarded it in this latter light, is plainly apparent. His whole work is
an elaborate attempt to establish the invalid theory, that human
progress is due _almost exclusively_ to the enlightenment of the
intellect, and in a very minor degree only to the cultivation of the
moral or religious nature. In a certain sense it is indeed true that
_all_ social elevation is the result of intellectual growth; but it is
only in that _absolute_ sense in which the Intellect is used for the
totality of human faculties, and of course includes the moral faculty
itself. In this sense, it is just as true to say that all progress is
through the Moral Powers, using this term to include the whole of the
human Mind, and consequently the intellectual forces. In either case,
the question still remains, of the relative effect of the Intellectual
and Moral powers upon the career of humanity, when considered as not
including each other. It was in this _relative_ point of view that Mr.
Buckle entertained it.
With this cursory examination of the first and second propositions,
their distinctive consideration will close. Some things, however, that
will have to be enunciated in the investigation of the English
Historian's Generalizations as a whole, are also necessary to a clear
understanding of the merits and defects of each one taken singly.
Additional light will also be thrown upon them in the course of our
analysis of the fourth proposition, which practically touches more vital
and important questions than are involved in the others. Contrary to
previous announcement, want of space will prevent the examination of
this Generalization and of Dr. Draper's work in the present paper.
After this article was put in type, the writer received a letter from a
friend, a distinguished member of the Positive School, in which occurs
the following sentence:
'I notice in your ... article on 'Buckle, Draper, and a Science of
History,' one inaccuracy. You say: 'History, while it is the source
whence the proof of his (Comte's) fundamental positions is drawn,
finds no place in his scientific schedule.' In the positive
Hierarchy of Science History _is_ included: it constitutes the
Dynamic Branch of Sociology. As in the Science of Life, Anatomy
constitutes Biological Statics and Physiology Biological Dynamics,
in Sociology we have Social Statics--the Theory of Order, Social
Dynamics--the Theory of Progress = the Philosophy (Science) of
History.'
The kindly criticism of the writer arises from that fruitful source of
misunderstanding--a wrong apprehension of terms.
History, as it has been hitherto written, has been--_First_, a narration
of the supposed facts of the past, without any especial attempt to
investigate the proximate causes of national characteristics or mundane
progression. _Secondly_, an account of the life and vicissitudes of
states and communities, accompanied with an inquiry into the proximate
causes of national peculiarities. These two Branches of Investigation
have been included under the common appellation of _History_, when they
related to a special portion of the globe; and of _General_ or
_Universal History_ when, theoretically at least, the whole earth was
under consideration. _Thirdly_, the examination of the past progress of
the Race, with a view to the discovery of the fundamental Cause or
Causes which control or direct the Evolutions of Time, or the Principles
in accordance with which nations and civilizations have developed. This
Department is denominated _The Philosophy of History_. From it are
excluded all those investigations of an individual or national character
which comprise _History_ in the ordinary acceptation of the word.
Such a complete and exhaustive consideration of the Facts and Causes of
Human Progress as would suffice for the construction of a _Science of
History_, would necessarily include _all_ the Branches of Inquiry above
mentioned. While, therefore, _History_, as it has been used in these
papers, and as it is especially exhibited in the present one, has had
this comprehensive signification, the term is not applied by Comte to
any of the Departments of which he treated; and a very different
meaning, and one much more circumscribed, attaches to the qualified
expression which he uses in its stead. The Dynamic Branch of Sociology
does not appertain, even in his own estimation, to _History_ proper, but
to _The Philosophy of History_, which is the title by which he
designates it. Strictly speaking, it does not appertain to that, in any
broad sense. It is mainly an inquiry into the Theological, Political,
and Social Principles of the Past and Future, and leaves unnoticed many
questions of equal importance with those discussed, and which, in the
constitution of a comprehensive _Philosophy of History_, would occupy an
equally important place.
But leaving this point aside, it is sufficient to indicate the fact that
Comte, in conformity with the plan upon which he proceeded in the
investigation of other Departments of the Universe, eliminated from his
Historical examination all _concrete_ questions, everything relating
primarily to individuals or nations, or to the causes of their peculiar
development; on the same ground on which he set aside Botany, Zoology,
Mineralogy, etc. In the beginning of his treatise on Social Dynamics, he
says:
'We must avoid confounding the _abstract_ research into the laws of
social existence with the _concrete_ history of human societies,
the explanation of which can result only from a very advanced
knowledge of the whole of these laws. _Our employment of history in
this inquiry, then, must be essentially abstract._ It would, in
fact, be history without the names of men, or even of nations, if
it were not necessary to avoid all such puerile affectation as
there would be in depriving ourselves of the use of names which may
elucidate our exposition or consolidate our thought.... Geological
considerations must enter into such _concrete_ inquiry, and we have
but little positive knowledge of geology; and the same is true of
questions of climate, race, etc.'
And again he says, the inquiry is to be conducted 'stripped of all
circumstances of climate, locality, etc.'
It will be sufficiently evident from this brief statement, that _The
Philosophy of History_ (not _History_, as the letter says) which
constitutes the Dynamic Branch of Sociology in the Positive System is,
in Comte's own intention and showing, a series of bald abstractions from
which the _substantial_ or _concrete_ elements of individual and
national activity, the proximate causes of Human Progress, are dropped
out; and that _History_ in the ordinary sense of that term, or in the
broader sense in which it has been used in these papers, as referring to
a possible Science, finds no place in his Scientific Schedule.
The error into which our critic has fallen, in this case, undoubtedly
resulted in part from the unfortunate confounding of the words
_Philosophy_ and _Science_, which pervades the Positive System.
Philosophy and Science are not, in any proper use of the terms,
synonymes. They relate--as it is designed at some future time to
show--to equally true and important, though _opposite_ aspects of the
Universe, considered either as a whole or in relation to its parts.
Comte, as has been heretofore exhibited, degraded Science from its
_Exact_ and _Certain_ position, in order to include Domains of Inquiry
which did not have and to which he could not furnish a truly scientific
basis. In like manner, after discarding a false Philosophy, unable to
institute a true, or at least a sufficiently comprehensive one, on the
foundation which he had reared, he gave the name of _Positive
Philosophy_ to his incongruous coordination of Scientific and
Unscientific Departments of Thought. The terms _Science_ and
_Philosophy_, thus wrenched from their legitimate uses, are therefore
loosely understood and indiscriminately applied by the students of his
System and the followers of his social theories, in ways which are
productive of numerous misunderstandings, though not perhaps of
unprofitable criticisms.
In a subsequent letter, the same gentleman calls attention to another
supposed error--the omission of _La Morale_ from the Positive Hierarchy
of Sciences--and adds:
'Although this final Science was in a manner involved in Sociology
as treated in the _Philosophy_, its normal separation was yet a
step of Capital Importance; sufficiently so to make the enumeration
of Comte's Theoretical Hierarchy without it equivalent to a
misrepresentation.'
For the purposes of the article in question--the exhibition of the
incongruous, and hence really unscientific character of the
Hierarchy--the Positive S
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